A/N: As usual, I would recommend putting the video on loop.

A splitting pain seared through his head. It felt as though the sensation was burning through his skull. His throat felt parched, and an awful taste coated the inside of his mouth. Lips dry, he wet them with his tongue, which was an immediate mistake. The awful taste grew stronger, and he gagged. He tried to spit it out, but his saliva was hard to form until he finally managed to expel a ball of it. Almost, he made the error of licking his lips again.

Avoiding that, he tried to remember what had happened. He had been about to leave Delain and start up a practice in a safer location, so why was his back leaned up against something hard? Why was his bottom on something that felt like the same surface against his back? The vet furrowed his brows as images of what had happened trickled into his mind. As they crept in, his eyes widened in horror. That was all it took for the memories to flood his brain.

Nearly, he vomited more when he recalled the contents of that ball of flesh. He forced himself to swallow even if his throat was somewhat scratchy. Right now, he needed to get out of wherever he was. That thing ... that monster was probably going to come back. (F/n) (L/n) most likely was dead, and he yelled at himself for not caring too much about her recovery at the time. If he had spent more time on treating her, she might be alive, and he would be on his way out of Delain; he might even have been settled in his new home!

Wherever he was, there was no clock, and there were no windows, but there was a door. He had to escape. Most likely, he would be on the run for awhile, but he didn't care; he just wanted to live. His chances of survival were slim, but (L/n) and Calamiss had made it out of Cankerfell ... Still, their luck might not extend to him.

Heart beating faster, he examined his surroundings further to try and find a way out of the room. He already knew that the door was locked. There was no way that the creature would leave it open for him to waltz out of unless the creature ... The vet gulped; the creature was known for its sadistic treatment of his victims. His head hurt all the more at the negative possibilities of his future, and he rubbed his temples to try and ease the headache.

Instantly, he moved his hands away from his face. His hands ... They were ... They were free! No way, he was going to let that go. Any advantage he had, he would utilize so that he could live. Slowly, he stood up from his seat, which he found to be an old porcelain toilet. A disgusted scowl met his face. Dirt, at least he hoped it was dirt, was encrusted on the toilet, and pieces of the toilet were chipped off.

Looking around the rest of the bathroom, he noticed that the sink was in a similar position, and the mirror had pieces of glass missing from it. Those absent sections weren't on the floor, which he was grateful for. He did note the various small cuts on his arms and legs from when it had thrown him into the broken glass at his office. Most definitely, he would need to disinfect his wounds if he made it out of his present predicament alive.

His parched throat, though, caused his eyes to linger on the rusty sink faucet. Never would he drink from such a thing under normal circumstances, but he was thirsty. He figured that he must've been out for several hours if not more. There also was the fact that he felt a cakey covering on his face. Again, his memories rammed into him, and he visibly winced. The vet's right hand rose to the back of his head and rubbed the area. Vomit and bile were on his face. At least, it was his own, and that would explain the awful taste on his lips.

Desperately, he wished to wipe it off, and he could do that with the sink water. A drink was his top priority out of those two, but he wanted to find a way out first. If the thing wasn't back by then, he would take a quick sip. Washing his face probably wouldn't happen.

Before he could take another step across the broken, dirtied tile floor, he heard a rattling in the room. Given how quickly the thing had moved previously, he whipped around to find the source of the sound. In the process of doing so, he discovered the true producer of the noise. Wrapped around his right ankle, there was a chain. The other end was attached to the back of the toilet. "D*mn it," he cursed quietly as he combed his right fingers through his gelled hair. Loose strands of brown and grey fell down around his face, and he figured that the gel in his hair had worn out a little bit during his capture.

Testing out how much room he had to move, he continued to walk forward. He could reach the door, but that meant little if he was chained to a toilet. There was no tool to cut through the thick metal either. Unfortunately, it wasn't rusty, so breaking it probably was out of the question too unless he had a sledgehammer. No such item existed in the room. Of course, it wouldn't.

Despite his restrained ankle, he grabbed the doorknob. It ... turned. He hadn't been expecting that. Turning the knob more, he opened the door. Beyond it, a sea of darkness greeted him. The dull bathroom light illuminated some of the scenery, but he mainly just saw tiles and a pillar. When he squinted, he just could make out ... Oh no. Tracks. That thing had taken him into the abandoned subway. No one ever checked there! Most thought that the entrance was blocked off by tree roots anyway. "Sh*t!" he yelled quietly.

There was a very slim chance that he was in a different abandoned subway, but what did that matter?! He doubted that anyone would find him, and shouting loudly for help might just notify that thing that he was up. Closing the door, he noticed the small dial on the knob. Was that ... Testing it out, he turned it, and the door clicked locked. Was the thing stupid?

No. It was mocking him. A locked door couldn't keep it out forever. If anything, it just sealed him into a small prison. At least, there was water. He could think up some plans for escape once he quenched his thirst. Forgetting about the chain, he walked over to the sink at a normal pace. Even that, though, almost caused him to fall face first onto the ground when the chain roughly tugged him back.

Balancing himself, he breathed a sigh of relief. He tested the chain again. It wouldn't let him move forward anymore. "That b*st*rd," he grumbled as his fear presently was diminished. As long as the creature wasn't nearby, he could stay relatively calm.

Keeping his right foot in place, he performed a lunge. His left arm stretched out towards the faucet, but his fingers couldn't reach. He kept trying, but he was met by the same result every d*mn time. "Come on," he muttered as he moved his right foot again. The chain tugged back on him, but when he continued to fight back, the chain dug into his skin. It hurt, but it was tolerable. He would receive a bruise later, but that was miniscule, if not insignificant, to receiving a death sentence.

Going as far as he could, his left fingers brushed against the faucet. His hand waved up and down as he tried to flick it on. After several attempts, he finally turned it on. Water flowed out, and it was surprisingly clean. Thankfully, the rust only was on the outside and not inside or around the rim of the hole where the water came out. Now, it became a question of how he was going to drink it when his fingers barely reached the faucet. There were no cups nearby, and even if there were, he questioned using something like that in the subway. Then again, he was about to drink water out of an abandoned bathroom.

Cupping his hand under the water would be next to impossible unless he could move his foot against the chain more, but he doubted that. Still, he tried, but the metal only dug into him, which hurt especially against the bones there. The vet didn't give up, however. Instead, he moved back, and the chain eased its hold on him. He gave a sigh of relief and managed not to lick his lips at the sight of the flowing water.

If he plugged the sink, he could fill it with water. It might overflow eventually, but he would be able to get a drink and wash his face. The dirt coating the porcelain of the sink, though, was ... He would line the sink, and that should reduce some of the contamination if he was lucky. Checking himself, he saw that he still had his brown winter coat on. He slipped it off, didn't worry about being cold at the moment and tossed it into the sink.

Creating resistance between the chain and him again, he did his best to stuff part of his coat down the drain. The rest coated the interior of the sink. That should help some. Already, water was beginning to collect at the bottom. Once enough had filled the coat, he was able to scoop his hand in and collect a little bit of water. Carefully, he brought it to his lips. When the doorknob rattled, however, he jumped slightly, and the water spilled from his hand. He didn't even curse as his terrified brown eyes stared at the door. Banging resonated in the area, and he prayed that the door wouldn't give in. "I hear water. You reached the sink still?" Its tone was bored, and he knew that it was just trying to get a response out of him; it wanted to guarantee that he was in there, mess with him.

"I would be impressed if I wasn't so disgusted by you." Again, he didn't respond. The doorknob rattled, and he thought that it might be torn straight out of the door. He gulped. "I can hear your heartbeat. You're really scared." Mentally, he cursed, and his eyes scanned the bathroom hurriedly in a last attempt to find something to protect himself with.

"Well, locking the door won't do much." A scream parted from his parched throat and mouth when the doorknob did get ripped from its home. Metal clanged against tile, and the vet watched the door, utterly terrified, waiting for it to open.