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Cath Delaney (dian_cecht) wrote in inpoormerit,

Cathair concentrated on breathing and keeping his head down. He felt faint and ill and the combination was never good. While he'd never been concussed this badly before, he'd had seen other men experience it.

Luckily, the man decided to stay a fair distance away. Until he had better control of himself, that was likely for the best.

Not raising his head, or moving it, he managed to croak out a reply. "She was in the closet." Which had to sound strange, but nothing about this was normal by anyone's definition. "They're experimenting- on us. Making monsters."

And all that could be dismissed as rubbish, but right now, he didn't care. He was more concerned about Eden and what had been done to her. Where she was.

Saints, if he got his hands on these bastards, he'd show them fucking torture. Slow, painful, humiliating death. The thought was making him feel a bit better, which was frightening enough in its own way, he supposed.