Solitary II: The Release

The sharpened rib jutted from the guard's throat; the wound spewing blood like a spigot.
The shaggy, wilted thing that had once been Grayson Nettles, hunkered in the corner.
He hadn't anticipated the light of the hallway being so damned bright!
"Fixed'im!" he muttered, rocking on his blood-spattered haunches.
The world waited outside the doorway, beckoning him to come and show the evolution of his being, but that blasted light!
His milky eyes teared with each glance at his awaiting freedom.
"Soon," he moaned, his hand shading his face.
Footsteps sounded in the hall; he readied himself to spring.