"Why is everything so fucking bright?" Cael groaned, one arm flung over his face to shield his eyes from the light that was stabbed into it, the other groping for his blanket to cover his face, his hands came up short.
His skull felt like it had been used as a drum in a particularly violent war chant. His mouth was dry, throat parched like he had been swallowed sand before he fell asleep.
What the hell? He said as smelt unfamiliar surroundings, his nose twitching.
He blinked slowly, forcing his eyes to adjust. The ceiling above him wasn't familiar. High, white, sterile. A slow, crawling realization began to settle into his bones. This wasn't his bed. It wasn't even his house.
He sat up with a grunt, his entire body protesting the motion. The sheets slipped down, revealing his bare torso, alerting him to the fact that he was in nothing but boxers. He stared around confused. He rubbed his temples, heart thundering. He had blacked out. That never happened.
