P R O L O G U E
710 Words
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Breathe.
The constraints wedged deeper into his wrists, melding like lava into his flesh. Each miniscule, minor movement he made resulted in spasms of pain throughout his nervous system. His muscles pulled and twitched from standing hours on end. The silver sizzled and scorched his skin. Bishop almost buckled from severe tiredness, nearly stumbling off the beam; he struggled to regain his posture. Though weak, he couldn't give in to the need.
I want to sleep.
No. Insomnia was his friend. Sleep was his killer. One misstep and he'd fall in. Yes. Yes. He had to stay awake. He had to stay wide awake no matter what.
There was a sudden metallic taste in his mouth.
Blood.
He couldn't tell if it was coming from the internal bleeding or from biting his cheeks to stay awake. Either way, the taste caused him to gag. It was too strong. It scratched his throat when he swallowed it. Bishop trembled violently against his will.
She will find me.
He may not know where he was but he had to keep hope. He had to stay alive. Bishop choked in a breath and straightened his knees. The balance beam was supposed to be cold, he knew this, but the searing heat from the silver metal boiled his feet. Yet through the pain, he stood up straight. He was just so tired. And the anguish was becoming too much for him to bear.
Gathering the strength alone to hold himself up was difficult. It took everything in him, right down to his very soul. He could feel his own body eat away at every fat and muscle it could find to protect the meat of his brain. Soon, they'd start eating his vital organs. And then his heart. These were the stages of starvation.
She will come.
Bishop opened his mouth, begging. A warm liquid was poured in; a bitterness soured his tongue and he immediately spat it out. Vinegar. He was so thirsty, yet all they gave him was vinegar. Bishop felt close to tears, if he could cry any.
He didn't know how long they'd held him for. It felt close to years. Never did he ever think in his entire existence that he'd desire to sleep so much. He felt regret mock him for all those all-nighters he pulled, playing video games and watching movies. Bishop just wanted relief. His heart beat against his caving chest. He mumbled incoherently, the agony finally piercing through his mental defenses.
She always finds me.
The muscle spasms and cramps began again and this time, Bishop couldn't fight against the need to rest. He felt sorry. He wanted to apologise for his weakness. To anyone. To her. But he couldn't hold on. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hold on.
And he was so empty. There was nothing left inside him. Everything he was, his mind, his soul, his being, was sucked out of him through a straw. No, apologising wouldn't be enough because he wasn't the same person any more. He couldn't love her the same..
Would she love him, now that he's changed, become less of what he was before?
Would he let her?
Bishop felt his knees about to — the beam shook. The beam...it shook... He was sure of it. He felt it. The beam vibrated under him.
Suddenly, two hands grabbed his sides, digging something sharp — claws, sharp enough to enter easily into his ribcage. Bishop cried out. Who ever had him shook him, as if trying to forcibly pull him out of his restraints. But then, the claws let go... no, they were ripped away, and the sheer force of it caused Bishop to lose his footing.
She's coming.
Bishop quickly stuck out one foot in front of him to balance on the beam. But, there was no beam left. He had been standing at the very edge. The chain pulled against his wrist, and for a split second he thought they were going to hold him up, but they didn't. They offered little resistance, before completely dropping, all the weight bringing him down with it.
Bishop fell.
She's here.
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- Writer
