Sleep finally came. But other things came along with it. Dreams, horrible dreams. Newt knew they weren't real, but they felt as real as the memories he had lost long ago.
He lies, immobile in a dank and dark environment. Fear-he feels fear, but he doesn't know why. However, something keeps him there, a burning curiosity. Of what? He still doesn't know.
Voices make their way toward him, and he prays they will continue on past him. But why?
Newt tried to stop the dream, latch on to reality, but it simply dug him deeper into his thoughts.
His senses are more aware now-he not only feels, but smells the thick, overwhelming sterile smell of an operation room.
Anesthetic. It's anesthetic. He tries to move, but nothing happens.
It was just a dream, it was only a dream....
He hears a slamming door and loud voices, getting louder and louder until they are right above him.
"Ink." Someone says. Whether it's a male or female, he can't tell. "Needles.