just some whump that wouldn't leave my head. i'm on an AU kick. 2 pieces in a day!! woo!!! also posted a catharsis chapter earlier :D
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It was day one-thousand one-hundred and thirty-three since they’d left Kane in the sun.
Unlike in his cell, it was easy to count the days out here. Impossible not to, unless he lost count amid the endless pain. He couldn’t see, hadn’t opened his eyes in years, but fire licked at his toes once more, slowly working its way up.
Kane did not scream. The last time he’d screamed, a hunter had wrapped a cord around his throat and threatened to leave it there forever if he made another sound, leaving his lungs perpetually empty. That was day 14.
He had air. As his already burnt-beyond-recognition body lit up once more under the unforgiving heat of the sun, Kane reminded himself he could breathe. It was the only thing he had left.
It hurt. It hurt, hurt, hurt, always. There was no end to it, not even at night, when his wholly maimed form was given far too little time to even start to heal. There was only agony at night and more agony in the day.
He missed his cell. He would do anything to go back to his cell, in the blessed dark.
The morning sun rose enough to reach his face, his entire body once again swallowed as he burned alive.
Please. Please make it stop. Please, somebody help me! I’ll do anything. I just need it to stop. Mercy.
Every day, the same wish, unanswered. Kane was left to his unbearable existence, forgotten.
-
Somebody touched him. It was the first time Kane had been touched in over three years.
It was a light touch, just the graze of what he thought to be a hand to his jawline. Not enough to make it hurt more than it already did. Whoever it was said something, but he couldn’t make it out. Melted flesh had filled his ears for quite some time.
Kane did not move. He didn’t think he was capable of moving, anymore. But he had to do something. Maybe if he did, they’d let him inside, just for a little. Just for a few days. He would do anything to be allowed inside for a few days, even if they tortured him.
Please, I need help, please help me! Make it stop!
A small, raspy whine escaped the back of his throat, muffled further by his sealed-shut lips. It was all he could manage.
The hand retreated.
If Kane was capable of crying, he would. If Kane’s tear ducts hadn’t melted away under the sun years ago, he’d never have stopped.
Please. Please. Somebody. Help me.
His heart cried out, yearning for the touch to return. Even if they never helped, even if they hurt him. He just needed to feel for one moment like he wasn’t alone.
He keened again, a quiet thing, though he tried. Wordless begging to not be left.
The hand returned to his cheek, and he quieted once more. If the agony never stopped, at least he had this. The ability to breathe, and one gentle touch.
Without warning, something pierced his chest, and his cursed consciousness was blissfully lost.
-
Kane did not wake outside.
His arms and legs were no longer spread into the corners of the board, ensuring every vulnerable inch of his front was exposed to the sun. The board no longer touched his back, in fact. Instead, he laid on something soft. The sun did not shine.
Either it was nighttime, or he’d been allowed inside.
It was almost unthinkable that he’d be allowed to rest on something soft and let inside. Surely, it had to be nighttime.
Despite his relative freedom–he could still feel a shackle on one ankle, not silver, but nothing else–he was far too mangled to move around. He simply laid there, trying to bask in the wonder of the soft thing.
“Kane?” a voice asked, hours later. He could hear it, he realized. His ears were cleared.
He knew that voice. That was the human’s voice. Jim’s voice.
The fragile hope that he might be allowed to remain on the soft thing vanished.
“Are you awake?” Jim asked. “I saw you… twitching and stuff.”
He would cry if he could. He was crying, he realized, tears falling down his burnt-up cheeks.
“It’s okay, don’t be scared. I mean, that’s–that’s a tall order, yeah. You’re not going out there again. You’re gonna be okay.”
That gentle hand returned, to his hair this time. There wasn’t much of it left, he was reasonably sure. Jim stroked what was there, his touch feather-light, like he was afraid Kane would break into pieces.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. It’s over,” Jim promised. His voice shook like he might be crying, too.
Kane wanted to believe it so, so badly. It was everything he’d ever wanted, for someone to help. Finally, finally, for the pain to end. It hadn’t even ended yet, his body was a horrific mess of seared skin, but it had been promised. No one had ever promised to help before.
He couldn’t be dreaming. It never hurt this badly in dreams, his only refuge.
“Can you open your mouth?” Jim prompted.
No. He couldn’t. He tried, just to prove it, and…
His lips popped open, revealing a perfectly-preserved, unburnt mouth.
How long had he been out? Days? Had he not been touched by the sun for days?
“You’re doing great,” Jim encouraged. “I know you’re hurting pretty bad right now. So, um, I just…”
“Here, I’ve got it.” A different voice, female, unfamiliar. Before Kane could even worry about who she was, a lid opened with a pop, and the smell of blood filled the air.
Kane did manage more than a whine, then. A desperate howl of need.
The blood poured into his mouth, cold and refreshing and salty and sweet. There was so much of it. He drank and drank and drank until there was no more. He was actually sated for once.
“That’ll help him heal faster?” Jim asked.
“Yeah. Should do the trick.”
“...Do you think he’ll be mad at me?”
Mad? How could he possibly be mad? Jim took him away from the sun. Jim let him inside. Jim gave him blood. He was going to be allowed to heal!
“I think he’ll just be happy to be out of the sun,” the other voiced his thoughts.
There was a creak on the soft thing–a bed? A couch?--as someone sat next to him. “Three years ago, the hunters told me they had you,” Jim said.
Three years. That was the end of it, then? Kane had paid his price, he wouldn’t have to do it anymore? It felt too good to be true.
“I told them to kill you,” he continued. “I was scared. I thought you would be like… before. I thought you would come after me. I didn’t know what they were doing, and they told me they’d done it. I thought you were dead. I never wanted you to suffer, not like this.”
Did that mean no more? It was truly over?
“No m-more?” Kane rasped out, his voice struggling to find itself after so long.
“No more.” That gentle touch returned to his hair, and for the first time in years, there was hope.
Hey any tips on coping with extreme isolation and saying productive? I haven't talked to anyone in weeks and it started getting to me... But I can't afford to fall behind in college!
Hi! I’m no psychologist but when it comes to my own experience: the usual productivity tips still apply. You should definitely have a routine and a schedule to keep the momentum going. I have tons of other tips on my blog!
When it comes to the isolation, it gets more difficult. Try to talk to someone, anyone. Call your friends or family. Message them. It is also quite fun to plan like a group call or talk in a group chat. That way you don’t have to actively talk all the time but are still with people. In case you don’t have anyone to message, you can talk to me or other people on this site!
Either way do your best to get in as much socialising (distanced still) as you can! You can even connect work with socialising by studying with someone else. Their presence is still better than nothing. People are social animals and loneliness can literally kill.
I hope I helped and in case you want to talk, feel free to do so!
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Please see the link :- http://mbimph.com/index.php/AJOAIMS/article/view/2486
Me and my #marjoram The #upsides of #isolaton - you get to count all grains of rice in your household, or something similar :) (at Anna's Reality) https://www.instagram.com/p/B94MfK0F1rh/?igshid=mea6khy09ofm
