#thetorture

Through the caked on dried blood, he moved the tie that had been fastened over his sight. It barely budged but enough for him to make out a blurry shape of the door. 

He pulled his favorite tie and, slowly but surely, it slipped from his head with a loud cry of pain on his part. Where was he? What was he doing... Wait... He.. he was going to investigate an anonymous tip... about... about an... an android? 

34 steps... Turn... 20... 23 steps... Turn... Door. Stairs... The words he had been repeating to himself all last night still blazed in his memory. He had been taken... He... He had to think. Where was he? 

He tried to retrace his attackers steps from where he had been snatched. Not that it would do much good. His gun, radio, and phone were... His phone... They could trace it. They would be near by. He only hoped he had left a trail of blood, red dots spaced apart but... Perhaps useful of stopped. He had to. He had to get home. He had to get out.

Sterling wobbled to his feet, nausea washing over him from disorientation, smell of blood, He managed to make it to the stairs before he fell the first time, coughing and panting. The room swirled. 

What time was it? We're his sisters ok? He said... He said he was going to find them!

Sterling pulled himself up again and crawled up the steps to the door. Locked, naturally. He banged against it. 

"HEEEEELP! LET ME OUT!" Sterling looked around for windows. He looked around for something to break the knob. He could barely stand but he tried kicking down the door. Nearly falling down the steps kept him from trying again. He tried slamming his shoulder against it but that just made his head pound more. He was stuck. He was hurt. He was sick. He was disarmed. And he was without a form of communication. 

Erikson stood panting, his shoulder hitting the door once more in pathetic defeat. Slowly he slid down and pressed his back against it. He felt so stupid for being caught. All that training and he got taken down so easily. Sure, the guy was an android but... He should have been better prepared. He was weak. Tired. Hungry. Thirsty. 

He lost a lot of blood and he could see on his bed he had lost more while he slept. Spinning. Spinning.

Focus!