Immaculate Misconceptions Motionless In White

run

He could feel himself waking up... His eyes lids felt heavy and something about his body felt awfully numb. His vision was blurred and the dim lights seemed brighter than they should've. The room continued to spin and he let out an audible groan as he moved himself...

Memories flashed through his head and Chris found himself jerking upwards, fully alert. Something about the movement sent his world spinning, he could feel his chest and stomach tighten suddenly, lurching himself forward, his lungs emptied themselves of the water that had threatened to suffocate them. He hacked and sputtered as everything seemed to pour out in continuous streams. He coughed and wheezed as there was some kind of relief coursing through him.

He was alive.

But was that really something to be relieved about?

He was shaking now... What they did to him... My God, what they did to him. Did he dare look down?

He squeezed his eyes shut as he seemed to sway, humming a melody that he found comforting in his current time of need. Did he dare? Did he want to know? They stripped him of everything he was, they ripped the identity from his body and now... What was left?

With eyes still shut, his shaky fingers hugged his upper arms...

The skin...

It felt crisp, almost leathery. It felt as if there was a film lying over the wrinkled skin.

It felt disgusting.

His lip quivered as he focused on what his finger tips were feeling, shribbled skin that was burnt to the point he could feel some of the tendons of his muscles. The skin was raw with a clear film accumulating over it in a weak attempt to mock the skin he lacked.

Don't you dare open your eyes.

Open your eyes.

He let out a frustrated scream, "Argh!" But it ended in a choked sob as he looked down at his arms, his legs, his thighs, his hands. Even the skin itself had a disgusting wrinkled look to it... Lumpy and uneven. Red and purple and just... just ugly.

He felt ugly.

He covered his face with his hands to mute his own cries. He wanted to scream and curse and pound at the ground but what good would that do?

He took deep breaths, he couldn't break down now. Not here, not now, not ever. He can't keep thinking that this is just about him because this was about way more than just him and his music. He was fighting for so much more, for so many kids, people, and outcasts.

The film cracked and sent small stings of pain along his arms and shoulders as he started to push himself up from the ground. He was so tired but there was an advantage here... They must've thought Chris wasn't going to wake up for a while or that he wasn't going to last the night because his arms were free. There were no heavy chains to hold him down and he wasn't strapped down to anything. They just threw him on the harsh ground like a piece of garbage.

He'll show em.

He's stronger than they think he is because unlike them, he had an amazing family. He had amazing people waiting for his return and right now they were all screaming in his head.

Get up.

Chris "Motionless" Cerulli, Get up.

Get.

Up.

He staggered and his first step sent him crashing down onto the floor, his chin skidding across the dirt but with a growl he shoved himself back up and forward with enough force to propel himself forward. He struggled to keep his balance but managed well on his own, only faltering to wince as his skin cracked and began to bleed.