Of Monsters And Men | Discontinued |

Episode Seven - Paralyzed

Her throat that feels broken, her body whimpering in agony. She can't even make her eyes open as she lays still, a small whimper tearing from her throat. That Thing beneath her skin growls and the feeling makes her chest feel hollow and reverberate through her bones. She hates it, hates everything about it; hates that there's nothing she can do against it.

"Had us scared, for a while. You wouldn't stop screaming." She peels her eyes open, gaze meeting with a nurse who eyes her skeptically. She groans, trying to summon the will to speak. "Mike isn't here right now." The woman huffs. "I thought you died when you finally stopped screaming."

The person speaking, a woman, stares at her as she slowly pushes herself up on quivering arms. The Thing growls, and all of the aches are gone, even the hunger in her stomach. She doesn't know whether to be thankful or terrified of the power it holds over herself. She doesn't even know if the Thing will kill her- if it thirsts for her blood, tentative touches ghosting her organs, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

"So, you do drugs?" The woman asks, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed.

"No." She whispers, voice scratchy. That thing inside of her isn't moving, not right now, and she finds herself more relieved than anything, even overcoming fear. Even if the Thing does bring pain, she supposes it took her from the hospital that wasn't real, and managed to get her to the city when she couldn't move. She doesn't even know how. She was so hot she was trying to scratch her own skin off, then the Thing forced her nails away and into the dirt, making her move. There aren't even scratches on her, yet she felt her blood stain her hands.

"You look like one. Skinny, shaking, screaming. Frankly, I almost didn't let Mike bring you in until he said you threw something up, then it sunk back into you through skin. Wanna tell me about that?"

She shakes her head, balling her fists. She doesn't even want to remember. She doesn't know her own name, yet she's stuck with something alien and wrong inside of her. Something that can take over her flesh.

"Why not?" The woman presses.

She simply pulls her legs to her chest, slowly, crossing her arms around herself and tucking her head between her knees. She stays like that, hardly able to hear anything else the woman says above the phantom screams in her ears and the agony that she saw with her own eyes, stuck in a glass cage until it was finally her turn. Her turn for the Thing beneath her skin to slip into the glass tank she was trapped in, like a fish too stupid to realize that there was no way out as she desperately screamed and hit the glass, even as the container holding the throbbing, dark green mass, rolled into the room-- holding the Thing that threw itself at her, sinking into her clothes then her skin, then her spine. She could feel it sinking into her, curling around her bones.

'Host.' A voice growls between her own ears, gravely and deep and she would have screamed if her voice suddenly failed her and she couldn't even move, the Thing sticking to her muscles and the underside of her skin, keeping her glued into place.

Her heart hammers in her chest, slamming against her lungs, and everything starts to hurt again and she can't move. She can't move. She tries, she tries so much her head aches with the effort from even just trying to twitch her finger, until she gives up, letting the Thing control her own body once again.

"You okay?" The nurse asks, placing a soft hand on her knee, wrapped in gauze, even though it doesn't hurt anymore. If she peels it off, she'll see unbroken skin. The thought of it makes her stomach flip.

She can't even reply. Not even as hours pass, that Thing forcing her to stay immobile and completely still, hardly able to breathe until panic fades into blank terror that brings her to the brink of exhaustion once more. Then, finally, the hold releases. Suddenly, too suddenly. She coughs, lungs aching as she takes in a large breath, ribs shuddering as she leans back, head falling onto the pillow, curling onto her side.

The window shows that it's night. She shuts her eyes, clenching them shut tightly, trying to ignore the images of bloodshed that scatter in front of her eyes, trying not to whimper at the mere prospect that the Thing beneath her skin is sentient, alive, using her as a home. It makes her feel sick to the core, even as she sleeps, cemented into place by her concrete limbs.

She only awakes when the Thing wakes her. It nudges her into wakefullness from the inside, pushing against her skin, forcing her eyes open and her head to clear, vomit climbing her throat.

She lifts her head, slowly, nothing quite hurting anymore as she slips her feet to the floor against her own will. The Thing inside of her twists and pushes, sending her careening towards the door, only keeping balance because of the Thing. She steps quietly, frowning when she peers around the side and spots Claire on the floor, men on top of her holding her down, pointing guns at her head and murmuring to each other.

The Thing beneath her skin roars and she finds herself being forced forward, tackling one of the men to the floor. Something reaches from her back, extending from her spine, and the feeling makes her feet fall back a few steps, head swimming, before the force, the Thing, sends her back to punching the man on the floor while it tugs at her back, too, and eventually everything subsides and it slams back into her.

She throws up on the unconscious body below her, bile spilling onto his shirt and soaking through it. The Thing tugs at her again and again, covering her hands in the thick slime, ripping into the neck of the man.

She backs away, eyes burning with tears that feel like acid.

The Thing purrs.

"What the hell?" The nurse asks, voice soft. She turns, staring right in the stranger's eyes. She can see the pure terror that she feels, even now, with the Thing purring between her ears.

She finds herself fleeing, forcefully slamming through the door, leaving it broken behind her. Something in her is telling her to run, to run to someone who holds power within the city, yet she can't remember who he is, where to find him. The Thing is making her go fast, faster than she's ever run before, down the hall and slipping down the steps so fast that she feels her knees and ankles crackle. She trips over her own toes, slamming against the stairs and landing in a heap at the small break at the next floor.

The Thing picks her up, bones that had cracked or broken snapping into place and forcing her onwards. She can't help but flinch at the feeling, like warm water rushing through her, trickling down the inside of her skin.

"Why are you doing this?" She mumbles, voice hoarse and scratchy, breaking onto the dark street. She hesitates, looking both ways, before the Thing forces her to move into a certain direction, down the street, into the blinding city that's too loud, even at night, and onwards. People stare at her and whisper to themselves, even those hidden in the shadows. She doesn't want to be found or recognized. Not yet. Not ever. Not until she's her again, with her memories back in her head and not the haunting nothing.

Drug addicts move out of her way, flinching, and even the homeless stare accusingly after her. She doesn't want to be taken back to that glass cage. She doesn't want to be a lab rat again. She feels weak even thinking of them looking at her. The feeling makes her skin crawl.

'Hungry.' It replies, voice course once more, the feeling of it controlling her receding when it pushes her through the glass doors of a store that's too bright and too crowded and it makes everything hurt again. People look at her, look at her dirty clothes and sweat stained skin, heavy black bags beneath her eyes and her greasy hair. They eye the bandages wrapped around her head and her knees, the rest hidden beneath her shirt. Her stomach rumbles. She searches her pockets, heart falling when she feels nothing- not even a few coins clatter against each other. Yet, something in her, somewhere in her head and chest, nearly revels in the need to steal. A shot of adrenaline claws down her spine. It unsettles her. The thought of stealing makes her uneasy, now.

That's just another way for her to get caught.