Starter Call | @whistleblcwer | Accepting
He had no idea how long he had been here. He was cold and exhausted. He knew that first drop had certainly broken a rib or two, the pain nearly blinding when it first happened. Cuts, bruises, and worse were starting to burn. The worst though was the most recent, his fingers. The pain had been the worst he had ever felt in his life, the only reason he was still standing was because of survival instinct numbing the pain. Now that Trager was dead and things seemed to be quiet, it all came back. Hopelessness was trying hard to grab him and pull him under.
At this point, every single injury was hurting him severely. The fingers were the worst, looking at them made him feel nauseous. He found himself in a bathroom, trying to get his horrible injury at least somewhat washed off. His luck, it would get infected and he’d die or lose his arm or some shit. Sickness kicked him hard and he lost control, his body leaning him over the dirty sink and heaving. He didn’t have anything in him to really throw up, but it hurt his broken ribs.
He hoped he hadn’t been loud. The sting of the water hitting his wound made him hiss. Dizziness swept over him and he had to grip the sink to stop from collapsing. Maybe he was gonna bleed to death. That would be perfect. He shivered a little, using all his strength to stay awake. But he wasn’t strong enough.
His arm felt like noodles suddenly, he lost his grip. A cold blackness went over him, and he thought he was dying.
But he opened his eyes. He almost hoped this had all been a nightmare as his waking mind noticed the pain less. It also didn’t notice the other person in the room. Of course, being numb only lasted a few seconds before it all returned. “Fuck….!” He breathed out.
His blurry vision cleared up enough, AND he heard someone. His heart skipped a beat.
