( @hxwlett )

           HE FEEL THE CARMINE substance trickling cross his temple ( dripping down off his chin into diminutive bath pooled on the concrete floor ) from lacerations & blemishes beaten into his temple & jaw. Staggered gasps breach from tremulous lips with spurt of cruor debauching formal wardrobe. Bound against chair he shivers, not from chilled metallic frame pressed to anatomy, but by means of GRASPING to keep ascendancy over fleeting consciousness ( recollection transpiring alike water streaming through cracks ).

                      Where was he? He’s merely an examiner for a research corporation?
                       That’s all anyone knew - that’s all he ALLOWED anyone to know.

            Impuissant to resolving current predicament he deters convergence from malady to objects scattered about the room…DAMN IT! ——– – that he WOULD if those who had assailed he were improvident to renounce any information freely that may cinch a glimpse. Other than stockpile of chains in a corner & various appliances in disarray about the corridor, NOTHING. The more he’d contend to discover something that could be of aid to liberation to more he’d strain his exertion. Fuck. Heavy eyelids veil apperception from being rehashed & he’s hassling, struggling to hold on.

                                                     This was going to be a onerous conundrum to work out.