-( T e t h e r e d )-

[SHIVERS]

-( T e t h e r e d )-
#01: Cascade
CW: Mild violence, panic attack

---

Sight.



I am seeing.


The eyes of the body on the table had opened.

Its chest rose and fell.

It stared at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, otherwise unmoving.



I feel the air.


I feel something else.


Body.
From the inside.


I am pinned.


Or can I...


Its arm lifted, moving over into its own view.
It watched.
The fingers moved, tendons pulling like puppet strings.


...This is not mine.


The figure pressed the claw of its thumb up against its pointer finger.

But it acts accordingly.


The hand shook as more pressure was applied.


It suddenly stopped.

Negative.

...Pain?

I believe so.





Why don't I know?






Why am I questioning?



Something is wrong.

Something is wrong.


Raspy coughs leaked out of the body, its breathing hoarse.

Pain.
Or different.


Choke.

It broke into a fit of coughing, its arms going around its throat, instinctively attempting to stop it.


Need 

something.




Water.


Where?

Waterfall? 
Lake? 
River?

Its head turned side to side, scanning the room.


Indoors.

Look for a spout instead.


Among the glass cabinets and instruments around the room, an oddly-glowing, ribbon-like structure was caught in its gaze.

It flowed out of the wall, as if blown by a light breeze, and was receding back into it.

Spout?

No.

None of this is.


The glow fully disappeared within the tiles.


Hard to see.

Perspective.

Need to move the body.
Get up.

The body sat up and swiveled its legs off the side of the metal table in a strange motion, like it was lagging behind itself, head not fully upright.

It tried to stand, but toppled.

The figure landed against a side table, knocking a bonesaw along with a tray of surgical tools into the floor.

Loud.
Head is... bad... connection?

Dizzy.

Tired.

But busy.



It looked around the room, putting all its weight on the table as its legs shook.

The buzzing fluorescents illuminated the wall's dull green tiles and the drain on the floor.

Indoors.
But no spout. No sink.
Need to leave. Or need assistance.

As the body turned, a windowed wall with double-doors at its center came into view.
Through them were other bodies, looking entirely similar to this one.
They hung from the ceiling, each wrapped in a kind of airtight, clear, plastic-ish material.


Others. People.
I can use this body to communicate.

The body held one of its arms up in an attempted wave, having to take care not to fall.

It watched the hanging bodies in silence.


...Can they see me?
They--

The door opened.
The body's head turned to face it.

An orange pockitt in a white coat and rubber gloves stood mid-motion, frozen.


This one does not move, either.
I can try again.

The body's arm raised, its face expressionless as it clung to the side table.

The pockitt yelped and scrambled down the hall.


...Fear?
Inappropriate. 
And unnecessary.
Is this body the source of the reaction?
Is there an issue with it?


The figure looked itself over, taking in the indigo-grey of its body, its claws - hands and feet - its long tail that was just a bit heavy, and the white, circular stripes scattered around various extremities.

I don't see anything frightening.


As its line of sight shifted back upwards, it caught its own reflection in the metal side table it leaned against.




It watched.






I don't like this.

What is this feeling?



The eyes stared into themselves.



Its breath quickened.



Horror. 

Dread.


Something. 

Is wrong.



It wheezed, one of its paws snaking up its chest.




Cramped.



Cramped.

Room feels small.
Can't move.
Can't breathe.
Choke. 
Different.

Can't think.


It clutched at its own throat with both hands, as if trying to pull away something clamped on.


Terror.
Panic.
Hurts.
Need.
I need.

Need.



Help.






It finally turned its head away, wheezing and coughing.






Focus.

I still need to find water.


It took a few shaky, experimental steps, managing to make it to the exit doors.
The body leaned on one of them, carefully pushing through.

A short hallway - white tiles and white walls with a single turn at the end - laid out before it.

A green stripe along the wall caught its attention, the figure finding clustered white scribbles at the end of it, just a couple of feet away.



Why am I fixated on this?

Does this have some-

Wait.


The body squinted at the scribbles.

'STORAGE'

Why do I think of this word when I look at it?





I read it.
It's language. Writing. 
Printed text, or maybe painted.



...I shouldn't bother with more questions.
I need to find water.


It continued down the hall, using the wall for support.

After rounding the turn at the end, it spotted a room just down the hall, at the next fork:
A bathroom.

The light was off, but a sink was still fully visible despite the dark.


There.


It shuffled along towards the bathroom, managing to let go of the wall and walk on its own, being careful not to fall.

It neared the fork.


A reverberating jolt of pain traveled through its right leg.

The figure stumbled back. 
It caught itself on the wall with one paw, reaching down to its leg with the other.

Pain.
Lots of it.
What--

The pockitt stared at the body, bat at the ready, their eyes wild with fear.

This one again.
Still afraid.

"Yeah, stings, don't it?!"


Extremely inconvenient.


"Don't get any closer. You hear me?"

I need to come closer to get water.

...But this one doesn't understand that.

I can communicate.
It seems to prefer verbal, I can try to respond in kind.


The body opened its mouth, but only a wheeze came out.


Can't speak.
Maybe water would help?
But I can't get-

This is

frustrating.



The pockitt took a step forward.
"Now BACK up!"

I need to communicate. Somehow.
I can at least show that I am listening.


It tried to step back.
Its face scrunched up in a wince.


Pain.
Pain.

"I TOLD you to back up!"
The pockitt advanced on the body, bat pulled back and ready to strike.


This is dangerous.
If the body is hurt too badly, it will die.
If I am in the body, and it-

Don't think about that.
Focus.
Need to communicate.
No speech...


...Gestures?
What gesture?

The pockitt took another step forward.
The body gripped the wall.

What ideas do I need to communicate?
What would work?


"I'm warning you!"


It's scared.
Jumpy. 
If I raise my arms at all it could misjudge it as an attack.

Deliberate communication may frighten it further.

What's the solution?


They took another step.
"LAST chance!"


If not deliberate, 
then--

The body's eyes rolled back, then closed.
Its feet slipped out from under it as it crumpled to the floor, landing on its back.

It fell still save for the rise and fall of its chest.



Feigned, and a little painful, but hopefully convincing.

Entirely non-threatening.
This body is not conscious, you see?
You have control here.

You are safe.

Now please settle down.




There was quiet.





You have new information, so you're now reassessing the situation.
It wasn't what you thought, was it?
But you are fine.
Now, what should you do?



Quiet footsteps were heard, drawing closer to the figure on the floor.



Correct.
This person is not a threat to you.
They are lying on the floor, unconscious.
So, then--

The body felt the bat poking its side several times.



...It's ...not dead.
Why would you think...?

You can see it breathing.
And clearly this person needs help, right?
So--

Quick footfalls left the hallway, rounding the corner and trailing off into silence.









...Well.

The body opened its eyes and got up slowly, using the wall.

Not ideal, but I can get water now.

It tried somewhat successfully to use its left leg for support as it limped towards the bathroom.
Crossing the fork, it could hear the pockitt speaking down the hallway, but the voice was too distant to make out anything specific.


Need to hurry.

It stumbled upon entering the bathroom, but caught the sink with one arm.
It pressed its left leg down firmly to steady itself, taking great care to avoid eye contact with the mirror.

"...-idn't leave the clinic yet."
The voice down the hall grew closer. 

"...One of the blank bodies, man, I told you! You didn't see anything weird with 'em this morning?
...Well it's UP and walking around!"

Hurry.

...These are operated... by...

"I mean it was until I hit it with the bat. 
...Yeah, well it came in handy, didn't it?"

The body grabbed one of the handles.


"No, it's not someone in a damn costume! I was barely gone for a sec, they wouldn't have time to-- Oh shut up. I'll send a picture of it right now."

The pockitt's voice was just outside the bathroom.


"Okay yeah mayb--oh  FUCK.

It's gone, man, it--"

The handle turned.
Water poured into the sink.



The pockitt's phone clattered against the tile floor.



The sink shut off.

March stared into the open bathroom, unflinchingly.



To her horror, two white eyes glowed in the darkness.


She readied her bat, resisting the urge to scream.



The bathroom light turned on, illuminating the figure inside.
It wiped away water from its muzzle.

A massive bruise was visible along its right leg.



It took them a few seconds of coughing before they were able to speak.




"Hello.

I think I need a hospital."