this is somewhat a continuation to my post about whumpee and carewhumpee, but it can be read as a standalone for the most part.
whumpee stumbles into their cell, barely aware of the hands that shove them onto the cold stone. carewhumpee is sound asleep on their side of the cell— it's a rarity to see them truly knocked out, only the rise and fall of their chest distinguishing death and deep sleep.
it's not all that uncommon, other inmates passing away whilst out to the world. someone might get a little too handsy, a rib puncturing an organ— or plain old untreated pneumonia, amongst many other afflictions. lives down here are as expendable as they come, and it's in your best interest that you start hoping for death by the first night in this hellhole. being a little too different, in any form or manner, well.
their lips are still shut together. the right side of the cell was empty for months, before carewhumpee. like a reminder, the fear buzzes— constant and steady. always, always, always— death will be better than whatever fate those inmates have in store.
they stopped fighting long, long ago.
whumpee sits down on their side, their eyes trailing the multitude of bruises, burns, gashes littering carewhumpee's skin illuminated by the dim light coming from the corridor. everytime carewhumpee leaves, whumpee feels like they can barely breathe. they lash out at every possible opportunity, refuse to give up, bleed and bleed and bleed and then spit blood in the guards' faces.
it's no wonder that even after nearly fifteen days past their arrival they haven't been given a blanket. just being in carewhumpee's vicinity is dangerous— their eyes are too wide and their grin is too sharp. their words are too kind, and they've never really starved. they spell trouble with a capital T. it shows, in every inch of carewhumpee's demeanor, that they don't even entertain the idea of giving up yet, when anyone else might have been grovelling at whumper's feet by now.
whumpee know they'll end up being one of the special ones. but that would mean that carewhumpee will leave, and they won't be able to share their part of the meal, wrap their more bloody wounds up, or just talk and talk and talk to them— chasing the unending silence away. it's a relief, to be able to hear something other than their screams and whumper's incessant taunts.
they really, really don't want carewhumpee to go. this is a secret they hide firmly behind their ribcage, and even if one of the guards were to break it open, it would be lost in their blood and viscera. it's invisible and impossible and a death sentence. forming attachments here has never served anybody anything good.
but carewhumpee's eyes have been feverish as of late, crazed and out of their mind as whumper continues to lay into them. life seems to be draining out of them drop by drop, and so.
so, whumpee can't help but crawl over to carewhumpee's side, placing the antibiotic in their mouth, tilting their neck up and rubbing at their throat until they swallow. whumper seems to have truly tired them out, as they don't even twitch as they settle back. whumpee couldn't have given them this with them awake, though. too risky.
they sleep fitfully, wondering how long it would be before someone notices the stolen pills.
