As soon as Chase hit the floor he rolled onto his side with the intention of pulling himself up on his hands. He didn't make it that far, trying to inhale as much air as he could through the coughing. Red mixed in with the water under his face, but he didn't have time to process it before the kick to his stomach.
He grunted in pain as he was dragged by his hair, and in the few seconds it took for Simms to close the cell door behind them, his mind cleared enough for him to contemplate going for the other half of plastic tucked into his boxers. Before he could coordinate himself that hand was back on his throat, his hands clawing at Simms' wrists until he could see spots in front of his eyes.
He was only peripherally aware that they'd left the cell block, and as much as he tried to focus on where they were actually going, his head was spinning too much to process anything useful.