Maks was retrieved from the boulders under the bridge. He shuddered at the massive burns on his face, his skin felt like warm adhesive. He couldn't feel anything except for the pain deep down. His arm was blistery. He could barely swallow. His head reeled from dizzy spells, up was down, down was up, and phantom pains on his missing finger. The room he was in didn't paint a very pretty picture, he spilled his guts. With a shaky breath, he assessed the room, his chest tightened, there were lemon-green walls, and the floors were covered in an ugly beige rug. A rickety old red nightstand was there too. "Help!" He glanced at the walls and the ceiling, he clutched his stomach with his good arm, he ground his teeth at the sudden pain mounting in his stomach, and he jolted up at the terror on every side. He broke out in a sweat, short of breath at the cage, as the dog seemed to take on a more fantastic appearance. It grew gills and shadowy skin. It approached him. The walls came up in flame
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