It doesn't take Merritt long to lose hope. Moving at all means losing oxygen, the chain around his neck pressing against his throat. His hands and feet go numb first, and then it starts creeping up his arms and down his thighs. He can't see the bruises forming, at his broken finger, at every point the chains touch, but he thinks he can feel them, and he swallows hard against more panic, more tears.
He counts his breaths to distract himself, to remind himself he can breathe, but when he reaches the thousands, he has to stop, the distraction turning into just another reminder of how trapped he really is.
By the time he hears footsteps outside the room, Merritt is staring blankly at a point on the opposite wall, defeated. For a moment, he doesn't register that there are footsteps - but then he hears the door jolt, and he has to force himself not to startle, to hold still.
Dylan's appearance is no relief, and he swallows again as best he can with a mouth left dry by the combination of his own panic and the conditioned air, slumping back into the chair, eyes refixing on that vague point across the room. He has nothing to say, and even if he did, he doesn't have the air for it.
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Date: 2016-06-16 04:24 pm (UTC)He counts his breaths to distract himself, to remind himself he can breathe, but when he reaches the thousands, he has to stop, the distraction turning into just another reminder of how trapped he really is.
By the time he hears footsteps outside the room, Merritt is staring blankly at a point on the opposite wall, defeated. For a moment, he doesn't register that there are footsteps - but then he hears the door jolt, and he has to force himself not to startle, to hold still.
Dylan's appearance is no relief, and he swallows again as best he can with a mouth left dry by the combination of his own panic and the conditioned air, slumping back into the chair, eyes refixing on that vague point across the room. He has nothing to say, and even if he did, he doesn't have the air for it.