
“Darkness.
Sheer emptiness.
Devoid of hope or anything really.
How long had it been, a year? Ten? A hundred perhaps?” he couldn't help but wonder out loud. Besides, no one could hear him, not even if he shouted till his voice went hoarse.
The gods made sure of it.
Bloody bastards.
He stood up and started walking, increasing his place to the point where it became running till his feet collapsed. He knew that he probably hadn't moved even a single inch. In another life, shedding a tear would have been disgraceful, a bold sign of weakness. In here he cried freely. Not his first time, definitely not his last.
Pathetic.
This was worse than that time he whored himself out for food. At least then he had a life. He was with people. He was not alone.
Forcing himself from that chain of thought, he did the one thing that gave him comfort. He remembered the only people who ever truly loved loved him.
His children.
He remembered their faces every time he came back home. How they'd run to him. How they'd all jump on him and tell him stories of how their day was. He hated how he didn't pay the finest attention to their ramblings. The things he would do just to remember everything about them. He remembered those rare times he played with them. He remembered...
Was was that?
Has someone picked my book?
There is hope after all.
“Soon, I will be out once more and I will cherish every second since I know, it will probably be my last time. Outside”

