When Adam wakes, it's with a strangers face still prominently displayed in his mind's eye. When he wakes, his heart is racing and he isn't sure why. Adam used to have dreams, sometimes still does, that made his heart race. This, even though he has no idea how the half-monster half-man got in his subconsciousness, has done the same. It's an unnerving feeling, a feeling that implies that someone has been in his head, poking around where Adam doesn't like for people to see.
Adam knows that face because he pays attention. He's a professional people watcher. He's also very good at going unnoticed while he watches people, learns their behaviors, knows their names and routines before they even know he exists. That's why when Adam enters the commissary that morning and he sees that very face sitting at a table eating breakfast, he marches right over to the table and sits down across from him. Normally, Adam might not be so bold, but he's just unnerved enough by his dreams to throw everything off-kilter.
The bruises on Adam's face have dulled to a barely visible yellow, sickening looking, but almost healed. He's slim and is best described as a sepia photograph, all except his brilliant blue eyes, the eyes of a nineteen year old who was forced to grow up way before he should have had to. They're the eyes of an old soul in a young, beat up body. Those eyes stare at the stranger across from him for a few moments before he leans in and whispers accusingly.
"What did you do to me?" The moment the question is asked, Adam averts his gaze. He's never been able to hold eye contact for very long for all the wrong reasons - beginning and ending with his father.
morning;
Adam knows that face because he pays attention. He's a professional people watcher. He's also very good at going unnoticed while he watches people, learns their behaviors, knows their names and routines before they even know he exists. That's why when Adam enters the commissary that morning and he sees that very face sitting at a table eating breakfast, he marches right over to the table and sits down across from him. Normally, Adam might not be so bold, but he's just unnerved enough by his dreams to throw everything off-kilter.
The bruises on Adam's face have dulled to a barely visible yellow, sickening looking, but almost healed. He's slim and is best described as a sepia photograph, all except his brilliant blue eyes, the eyes of a nineteen year old who was forced to grow up way before he should have had to. They're the eyes of an old soul in a young, beat up body. Those eyes stare at the stranger across from him for a few moments before he leans in and whispers accusingly.
"What did you do to me?" The moment the question is asked, Adam averts his gaze. He's never been able to hold eye contact for very long for all the wrong reasons - beginning and ending with his father.