Post by Deleted on Feb 18, 2014 1:11:35 GMT -5
Dark, dark, dark. Down, down, down. For the third time today. Yesterday? Tonight? His breath becomes a whisper, forced back and down his throat. Slow, slow, slow. It was no longer out of place. Was no longer met with as much resistance. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could suffocate himself. The pressure would build inside his chest. Every ounce of self preservation screaming at him for more. Oxygen. He was fighting slowly to cut off all air flow. To slow his heart to the point of stopping completely. It never worked. To his relief and dismay. His world was a paradox. He wanted to be free. He wanted to get out. However that occurred. Whichever came first. He would accept it. In whatever form it came in. His only hope; his lungs collapse under the pressure he would so regularly put them under. Time so far had proven fruitless.
Cold. Everything was cold. The torch mounted just beyond his reach only served to mock him. There was no warmth here. No light. Nothing. He was no one, living no where. This was not existence. This was an abyss. Dull blue eyes, once bright with curiosity, a fire burning to learn and to know, stared into the darkness. How long had it been? He could not tell. Memories of someone else's life haunted his restless sleeping. Who were those people? Who made his heart swell with longing, the smell of parchment and ink heavy, nearly seductive. Pulling him into a world he had forgotten existed. Hadn't he always been here? Chains so heavily clamped onto his wrists and ankles. He had always been this way. He would always be here.
Down, down, down. Indecipherable noises assaulted his mind. His stomach dropped to the disgusting ground upon which he sat. His resolve was fleeting under the strength of the figure who stood just outside the cell door. A small noise brought his eyes up. The small boy cowered in his corner. He didn't know the rules yet. He didn't know that they were being saved for a different kind of torture. But Kendall knew. A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes. His name was Kendall. He kept his eyes down. Knowing well not to let the monster in front of him see his fear. They had to eat. He and the boy. They were worthless dead. Memories ghosted inside of a fractured mind. He fought at first. Hoping to starve himself. That was not an option. The keepers were not above force feeding. They were not allowed to touch. But they were cunning beasts, able to warp and bend the rules just enough. A shiver ran down his spine. The noises to the left of him drawing him forward. The little boy was screaming, pleading, a sickening high pitch that plucked at Kendall's eardrums. Muffled sobs were followed by a sharp thud. Then. Silence.
Dark. This place was worse than any hell Kendall had ever heard of. It was as if he were blind. This darkness so complete. This was despair. This was hopelessness. End? Dare he wish for it? It would not come. This was the end. Endless darkness. Endless pain. Scars that healed only to be reopened as he changed position on the floor. The cries of lives being stripped away, of souls being torn to pieces. It was a fate worse than any in all of his nightmares. Fear dug it's poisoned claws into his heart, breeding a disease that drove him to madness. To trying to suffocate himself. But this was his paradox. Holding your breath is unrealistic. As well he knew this. No. He didn't want to die. He just wanted out. Wasn't there a time, once? So long ago, he was intelligent? He knew things. It all seemed so useless now. His attempts of suicide were half hearted. It was something to do. Or was he really trying to leave this place in the only way he himself knew how? Down, down, down. Everything spiraled down into the abyss. Into nothing. He had become a part of it.
Cold. Everything was cold. The torch mounted just beyond his reach only served to mock him. There was no warmth here. No light. Nothing. He was no one, living no where. This was not existence. This was an abyss. Dull blue eyes, once bright with curiosity, a fire burning to learn and to know, stared into the darkness. How long had it been? He could not tell. Memories of someone else's life haunted his restless sleeping. Who were those people? Who made his heart swell with longing, the smell of parchment and ink heavy, nearly seductive. Pulling him into a world he had forgotten existed. Hadn't he always been here? Chains so heavily clamped onto his wrists and ankles. He had always been this way. He would always be here.
Down, down, down. Indecipherable noises assaulted his mind. His stomach dropped to the disgusting ground upon which he sat. His resolve was fleeting under the strength of the figure who stood just outside the cell door. A small noise brought his eyes up. The small boy cowered in his corner. He didn't know the rules yet. He didn't know that they were being saved for a different kind of torture. But Kendall knew. A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes. His name was Kendall. He kept his eyes down. Knowing well not to let the monster in front of him see his fear. They had to eat. He and the boy. They were worthless dead. Memories ghosted inside of a fractured mind. He fought at first. Hoping to starve himself. That was not an option. The keepers were not above force feeding. They were not allowed to touch. But they were cunning beasts, able to warp and bend the rules just enough. A shiver ran down his spine. The noises to the left of him drawing him forward. The little boy was screaming, pleading, a sickening high pitch that plucked at Kendall's eardrums. Muffled sobs were followed by a sharp thud. Then. Silence.
Dark. This place was worse than any hell Kendall had ever heard of. It was as if he were blind. This darkness so complete. This was despair. This was hopelessness. End? Dare he wish for it? It would not come. This was the end. Endless darkness. Endless pain. Scars that healed only to be reopened as he changed position on the floor. The cries of lives being stripped away, of souls being torn to pieces. It was a fate worse than any in all of his nightmares. Fear dug it's poisoned claws into his heart, breeding a disease that drove him to madness. To trying to suffocate himself. But this was his paradox. Holding your breath is unrealistic. As well he knew this. No. He didn't want to die. He just wanted out. Wasn't there a time, once? So long ago, he was intelligent? He knew things. It all seemed so useless now. His attempts of suicide were half hearted. It was something to do. Or was he really trying to leave this place in the only way he himself knew how? Down, down, down. Everything spiraled down into the abyss. Into nothing. He had become a part of it.