Oh, God.

There was unimaginable pain and blood.

Blaring fluorescents would periodically blind him as he struggled against some unknown force. Something held him down, but his body strained against it. Rory convulsed over and over again. He'd scream with agony and then laugh.

"Kill me. Kill me," he repeated and then laughed again.

He felt his skin crawl, and then ripples of pain as every inch of himself tried to pull itself apart. Bones, muscle, blood, all pulling apart.

"AHHH—AHHHHHH!" he heard another man screaming.

Darkness. Light. Darkness. Light. He either saw too much or nothing at all.

"Shut up! Hahahaha—make it stop. I can't... I can't...." he begged. Images flickered, nurses, doctors, all in masks. Soldiers. Guns. Guns pointed at him. He vomited on one of them and cackled.

The darkness spread and began to strangle him. He tried to tell them he couldn't breathe, but it pressed him down... down... down... and then there was nothing but silence.

Dying. He was dying.

Are you only beautiful? Or is there something more... laying dormant... deep within...

The darkness echoed and then tucked him in. 

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Published by Raven's Hollow Art and Publishing

©Raven's Hollow Art and Publishing.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.