flash fiction 12

The whine of the heavy old springs resonated a gentle waking sensation beneath their body,light crept into the large room padded by long square tiles.

“Wake up, I need you now.” Fingers filthy, running along the walls to fill in the space of worn paint and holes.

Remain quiet, but recall how to breathe. Remain calm, wait for the burning to pass, the warm fluid will fill in soon and the wound will close up. The morning light is brighter. The air is cold, the wound is bleeding now without a single thought or memory of where and when this came and went.

In their left hand the smaller end of the digit was cut in half with a strong black mark numb to the touch. Taking another deeper breathe, remain calm.

They had no legs, they had no way out.

“You look so precious, please, I want to taste you.” A torrent of pain lashed out, a splitting fire that cut through the synapses, a clean wound that breathed in the cold air, naked a moment before the wash of pain came on overwhelming them.

If I had arms, I would protest. I suppose you won’t have me any other way.

 

—-

music inspires. I will return to this one day.

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