Ficly

#32

32 sat up quickly, disoriented and in shock, he confusingly looks down and starts pulling unfamiliar wires away from his body. His gurney like bed was sunken and filled about an inch high with a pastey clear liquid substance with a density similar to molasses. He didn’t know where he was, or even what his name was, but noticed on the under side of his left wrist was a number that seemed to illuminate from within his skin. It read 32.
Before he could even wonder what 32 means, a loud thundering sound came from behind him. He quickly turned and saw 3 men running towards him from across the hall, holding something in their hands, that kept lighting up respective to the loud Bangs he was hearing. Then he felt it, a sharp pain in his right arm, and looked to see his flesh being ripped off his arm. Instinct kicks in and he dashes towards the closest door, pulling the remaining wires from his body as he ran. His wound healed before he got to the door.
“What the hell is going on? Where am I? Who am I? 32? … Run!”

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