There was shrieking from a distance, heading in his direction at a tremendous speed. It sent a thrill through him, even through the haze of pain and blood loss. He can never forget that sound: a call of a thousand wraiths came to escort him to hell.
A smirk crossed his
lips unbidden. How flattering, hell sending that many of its minions for a monster like himself.
His instincts screamed at him to get away, to put considerable distance between himself and what was coming. But it was too late; there was nowhere else to go.
So he stood his
ground, even as his body was starting to fail him.
Closer.
Closer...
Cl—
...
Floating.
Everything felt muted, his body prone and seemingly suspended. He couldn't remember how he came to be underwater.
breathe
He resisted. Common sense told him that if he did, he'd take in
water, not air.
Breathe...
He didn't feel the ripples, no tides crashed against his body. He supposed it was safe to—
BREATHE
Blessed cool air filled his lungs, but it stung his parched throat. It sent him coughing, his upper body surging forward.
That's when he became
aware of other sensations. Pain, radiating from everywhere, even if it was… muted. He suspected he was on something.
Then there were these tiny hands—ropes? wires?—holding him by the arms, shoulders, face and legs, keeping him prone. He quelled the panic welling from his gut,
struggling to control his breathing. If he was captured, he needed to assess his situation and formulate an escape plan...
The thought caught him by surprise, amazed at his own calm. Why was he thinking like that...? It was a sensible thing to do, wasn’t it? Familiar, even.
Still...
What happened?
A shadow loomed over him. He risked opening his eyes, only to be met with harsh white light spearing into his retinas. He blinked against it, opening his eyes slowly, and finally made out a dark blob before him. A weight pressed on his shoulder.
"Easy
now, you're safe. Just breathe." The voice was calm. Male. Unfamiliar. He couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment at that.
"It was touch and go there," the voice continued, as the weight on his shoulder—a hand—gave him a reassuring pat. "Welcome back to the land of the
living, Mr. Reese." ^
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh