When I wake, I'm in a white room. There are almost millions of machines pumping various liquids into my veins. I do not feel anything, except for a numbness that causes me to also forget the presence of my limbs. There are heavy bandages all over my body, why, I cannot fathom.
Then it all comes back in flashes. Kissing Secrets before bed last night, Topic screaming for Haven, the cops at the door this morning, getting shot in the hand, a tiny furry dying with Topic by it's side, running into a crowd of police officers with their guns raised, Secrets and I's last moments, getting riddled with more bullets, and passing out. What happened after that last glance of Topic screaming into the phone that someone was dying is beyond me. All I know is, I need to get out of here. It looks too much like the room I went in before the games, where they ripped the hair off my legs and pulled and pinched my body until it hurt to move. I start ripping the tube out of my arm, and feeling slowly returns. By the time I rip out the blood drip, it hurts so much I have to bite the bed sheets. A window is on the other side of the room, but I'm too weak to make it there myself.
I grab the metal pole that the blood drip is still attached to, red blood flowing from the tube, and lean on it to stable myself. When I reach the window, a few agonizing minutes later, I pick up the metal pole and smash the glass. An alarm goes off, sending waves of a headache through my brain, but I have to get out of here.
I can't think straight enough to tell how much time has passed, but eventually I fall out of the two story window. I land on my feet, immediately sinking to my knees and curling up on the ground for a while. The headache gets worse, and I can't see anything except black, but my body seems to be working properly, despite the weakness.
"Kenny!" Anna...wait...Annabeth? Am I hearing things now? I just groan.
"Kenny, oh my God, come on." Someone lifts me off the ground. At first I thrash. Every time someone's taken me before this, it hasn't been even near decent. Basically I end up half dying. But I only get one measly kick out before I hear Annabeth again.
"Hey, it's me. I'm going to take you to Secrets. He's in prison. Maybe they'll let him out if you tell them. It's okay." I sigh, trying to think. Secrets. Prison. Secrets is in prison. Secrets is in prison because of me.
Annabeth sits me up on the motorcycle, wrapping my hands around her waist and holding them there tightly with one hand while the other steers.
My vision slowly comes back and the headache fades by the time we screech to a halt in front of a giant prison. A few guards stand, heavily armed, in the front. These are the people keeping Secrets. I jump off the bike as fast as I can, the ache filled with blind rage.
Next thing I know, I'm unconscious. Not the kind of unconscious where all you see is black, but the bad kind. The kind where you can hear everything that's going on, but too close to death to respond. There's a deep pain in my stomach, and I'm thrown against concrete. I can't tell if it's a concrete wall, and I'm standing, or a floor, where I'd be lying, but either way it's painful and hard.
There's a slam, then a low growl. I've heard it before, but I can't place it. My brain won't work. But then a small sliver of my eye opens, and in the darkness, I see fur. The kind that Secrets has. Not the rough, scratchy stuff, but the soft, comforting fuzz.
"Secrets." I try to say, but it comes out a straggly whisper. "Secrets. It's m..me."
"Oh, you're not real. My imagination must be getting the best of me. I'm going crazy." A single tear rolls down my face. I don't know why, maybe it's like the shot at the doctors office, where it doesn't really hurt, but tears spring to your eyes in response. Or maybe it's more. Maybe it's me.
"Shut up!" The fur moves, and I see his face. The dried tear marks, the red eyes, the bared teeth. I cringe even more. His hands, claws open, slashes towards my face, but doesn't touch me, just barley.
"Secrets!" I cry, for the fist time fearing something. Fearing him.
"Kennedy?" His hand touches my waist, and the longer he leaves it there, the more I cry. He looks at me, confused, then he cries too.
"Kennedy, I'm so sorry. Oh my God, are you okay? You shouldn't be here! I'm going to get you out." He slides his other hand under my head and pulls me to my feet. I almost fall, but his strong arms are already there.
The wosrt pain I've ever felt, maybe, spreads throughout my stomach. When I look down, blood has soaked my shirt. Gunshot wound. I reopened it. Shit. Wrapping my hand around it, I try to keep myself together. To my disappointment, Secrets notices, and lays me back down.
"What's wro-" He lifts my shirt, revealing my would, which gushed blood. He quickly goes to work, taking off his own shirt and wrapping my tightly in it. Due to his sheer size, and my smallness, he's able to wrap the one shirt around my waist three times.
Secrets looks me in the eyes, and I see the message he's sending me.
I just got myself into prison, and I will most likely die.