Aug 15, 2018
March 14, 1979
@mxflyy
He could barely see. He’d barely gotten trousers on in the freezing cold. He was sick. So sick. Something in the potion he’d drunk was still poisoning him, and he was bleeding from... he didn’t know how many places. Too many to count.
He could be dying, but he wasn’t coherent enough to figure it out. All he could do was put one foot in front of the other, but he kept falling.
He wondered how many times he could fall before he wouldn’t be able to get up again.