Lost Memories

Sweating, dizzy, and struggling to focus on the dials and lights in front of him, Frank gripped hold of the handles as hard as he could, as his whole world shook violently around him. Barely able to think above the cacophanous roar of the machinery rattling and scraping and whirring louder than it seemed possible for such tiny contraption, he attempted to focus on the blurry swirls flying past the tiny glass window in front of him. Reds and oranges flowed and merged as his ears were blasted with the shrill whines of electronics, apparently the only noise louder than the grinding of the metal box he was trapped in. The warm patterns gave way to cold and pale blues as it continued, far less extravagant than his previous view, but no less impressive. Suddenly the palid weave was snaked with purple streams, the ambient glow through the viewport grew swiftly darker, and just as the last of the light was fading, the scene exploded into a halcyon tempest once again.

Frank would have thought it beautiful, had he not been fighting so hard to stay conscious, his tongue pushed hard into the roof of his mouth being careful not to bite it as he gritted his teeth, eyes barely open under the weight of their lids. Occasionally he would realise they were closed as the nautiousness swelled in his head and stomach, and would open them wide in defiance of this living hell he found himself in. Despite the numerous straps entangling him he did not feel the least bit safe. Their heavy leathery embrace felt suffocating before the test had begun, but now he found himself gripping onto the metal shapes by his hands so tightly they hurt.

The pain was good. The pain in his hands was something to focus on instead of the heat or the pain in his head. The doctor had told him to focus and think of what he would do when he arrived. At the time he thought it was ridiculous, as if he'd forget why he had signed up for the experiment, but he had already started to wonder why. Something about the past... Something that was bad... Pain... He grunted as he struggled to remember, already losing himself.

He was getting angry now, angry at the noise, at the shaking, at the pain. He started to strain more, as the shaking somehow increased, as the noises were louder. He pushed his face forwards into the restraints on his head and chin, the blood pressure rising as the veins started to throb above his skin. Panting hard through his teeth as the heat in the chamber climbed higher, drool running down his chin, any pretense of coping with this ordeal was gone, but he forced himself to read the panel below the window. Cold green lights flashed by quickly on the black screen, but not as quickly as earlier, he could see them now, the numbers, but what were they for again? His head spun with the attempt at making sense of his situation. The numbers kept getting slower, but the heat had made the air too thick, he couldnt breathe. Why was he here? Why did he do this? Someone must have done it to him. Yes... from before... he remembered thinking of a man, a young man who had no right to put him here, in this box, how dare he make him suffer like this! Frank's rage had peaked now, as he realised he had been trapped here, tricked, robbed of his freedom by some little bastard who thought his life was worthless. He would change that, he would escape this prison of and teach him a fucking lesson, wipe the smile off his stupid fucking face and...

As Frank's revenge became the only thing in his mind, the green numbers slowed more and more, and the machine began to rupture. Cracks quickly jumped across the tiny window, fractures and splits ran across the ceiling and floor, inevitably meeting up in the middle. His straps loosened as the guerney came away from its fixtures and in his apoplectic fury Frank struggled out of his steel cocoon in a waterfall of heat and schrapnel. Staggering forwards, legs wobbling everywhere now finally finding solid ground again he saw the man in front of him.
He looked younger than he remembered, and surprised, face painted with disbelief and confusion, but that didn't matter to Frank, he saw his opportunity and knew he was there to kill this arrogant little shit of a boy. Frank lumbered towards him as he scrabbled backwards, but it was too late, even on his uneasy legs he charged him off of his feet winding the youth. In a moment of clarity, Frank realised he was succeeding in his task and let out a long gutteral scream, staring unflinching into the teenager's eyes before throwing down heavy fists into his face.

Grunting and spitting as he pounded against wet, bloody, softened flesh, Frank began to go numb. His head was swimming from the journey, but the fresh air outside the cage was helping, he wasnt as warm as before, the breeze drying the blood on his sore hands making them feel sticky. He began to hit the boy anywhere he could now he had started to defend himself a little, but moving his arms was getting harder, they were sore and not moving right, and his face was numb, he could only feel the breeze on one side of his face. He stopped flailing as the moment passed, and his back began to seize up. Touching the numb side of his face and tracing his fingers across his lips, his gums also felt strange, and just as he was about to touch his front teeth to see if they were sore, they fell out, landing in the pool of blood that had amassed from the boy he'd been assaulting. Horrified, he left out a concerned noise and jumped up off of him, almost falling over in the process. Seeing the boy's face again looking up at him through puffy eyes stained red and purple from blood and bruise sparked his rage again and he swiftly stuck a boot into his ribs causing the boy to curl into a ball, but the kicks came again and again into his side and back. Finally Frank was exhausted, and launched one last boot to the face of the boy, knocking him out. He staggered backwards, barely staying upright as he stumbled through the wreckage of the infernal carriage that had brought him there. Why was he there? What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't remember much of anything now, other than his time with the machine.