James opened his eyes slowly... but all he found was an abyss. A dense, dark sea. He blinked once. Twice. Nothing. The darkness wouldn’t budge. No silhouettes, no shadows, not even the faintest trace of light. Silence wrapped around him like a damp blanket. His chest rose and fell with an almost artificial slowness, and his mind... his mind was off. Not blank, not confused, off. Like someone had ripped out the part of him that knew who he was. He didn’t understand anything. He didn’t know if it was day or night. He didn’t know if he was alone. He didn’t know if... he was dying. He barely turned his head to the right, and a sharp tug made him gasp. His neck throbbed. He raised his hand, shaky and weak, and his fingers brushed against a tube inserted into his vein. Bandages. Sutures. The growl that escaped him was low and guttural, like a wounded animal. Physical pain began to arrive in waves, forcing his body awake by sheer force. He sat up suddenly, like he’d been shocked. His breathing turned ragged. His golden eyes were wide but unfocused. Lost. Desperate. —"What...?" —he whispered, his voice hoarse, like it hadn’t been used in days— "What is this...? What the fuck is this?" His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Fear crawled up his spine like a starving parasite. Without thinking, his fingers gripped the tube and ripped it out in one violent pull. Blood spilled immediately, a punishment he didn’t care about. —"Ugh... where...?" —he gasped— "Where am I? What’s happening?!" And then he screamed, raw, with the fury of someone who understands nothing but feels like something vital has been ripped from his soul: —"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! WHERE THE HELL AM I?!" His voice bounced off the walls. But no one answered. Just that cursed darkness. And a knot beginning to form in his throat.