Feliks hadn’t been in the hospital room long before he started to get restless. He had completely exhausted everything there was to do in the small, white room, from flicking through the 5 channels he could get on the TV to moving his bed up and down with the remote he found wedged in the side of the bed. (The nurses hadn’t been very impressed when they found him sitting on the chair by his bed with it nearly folded in half. They had said it was a blatant disregard for hospital property. Feliks had said it was a blatant disregard for the amount of boredom he was facing.)
And this was not to mention the fact that, because his writing hand was bandaged, he couldn’t even catch up on all of the work he was missing at university. He didn’t even want to catch up on work he was missing at university, but at least that would be better than sitting around here all day. His roommates wouldn’t come visit him anyway, so he didn’t even know what he was missing.
Stupid roommates. Stupid nurses.
It was for all of these reasons that Feliks had escaped his hospital room. He was fairly certain, as he walked down the corridor feeling a little like a super-spy, that no one had noticed he was missing yet. People didn’t check on him that often, only every couple of hours to change his bandages, and he had made sure to leave soon after they had been changed last, so he had enough time.
So there he was, finally stretching his legs after ages of lying down, (and the corridors really weren’t much better than his room when it came down to it but at least it wasn't the same four walls hour after hour) when he heard something that didn’t sound quite right. Banging and thuds were echoing out from a supply closet just a few metres in front of him. Now, he was no expert on hospitals and supply closets, obviously, but Feliks was fairly certain that they weren’t supposed to be making that noise. Unless, you know, someone (or two people?) was inside them.
He stood outside the door to the closet, staring at it for a moment and debating whether or not to open it, in case he came across anything disturbing, before his curiosity got the better of him and he swung the door open. Inside, awkwardly squished against the side wall, was a man Feliks didn’t recognise. He was in a wheelchair, one of his legs in a cast, shoved into a postion that really didn't look very comfortable whatsoever, and Feliks took from this (and not to mention the ugly hospital robes) that he was a patient, but that didn’t really explain what he was doing in the supply closet.
“Like, what’s with all the noise?” Feliks asked, walking towards the man. Unfortunately, the door decided at that moment to swing shut behind him, shoving him into the closet and he grunted as the air was knocked out of him. A clicking noise alerted him to the door’s lock mechanism working and somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered he was trapped.
This was really not how he had planned for his escape to go.