Dark.
It’s dark, here in this cell.
Yes, it was a cell.
A dingy, dirty, smelly, cell.

It was small, and the air was cold. Very, incredibly cold.
He lay there in his raggedy blanket, tattered and worn from age and use. It barely covered his limbs, but was still large enough to wrap himself up in, if he hunched himself over. The wind was rustling outside, and the sound of gushing water was soothing.
A growl and groan quietly broke the silence, followed by a sharp pain in his side.
He was hungry, but there was no food.
He coughed, his frame trembling with each huff, and then a series of wet drips came up from his throat. He sighed, and noticed the wetness dripping from his nose and mouth. He looked down at his hands.
Red, his palms and fingers were red, and more was dripping onto his pants.

He sniffled, unsure of what was happening.
The dripping was coming from him.
His lips were cracked by now, but the wetness did nothing to soothe them. The red stuff tasted weird, and smelled weird too. It was metallic, and foreign, but at the same time, it was familiar.
Another low groan escaped his stomach, only this time is more painful.
He winced, holding his torso as he tried rubbing it to lessen the pain.
It didn’t work.
His throat then started feeling scratchy, and another coughing overcame him. He hunched over, and huffed constantly, more red stuff was leaking out; small, sticky globs at first, but now there strings. Loose, wet strings of red stuff.
He huffed again, and the force of this cough was enough to make him topple over, knocking his head against the wall with a resounding thud. He winced, tears forming in his eyes. His head was ringing, and his vision was blurry. He lay on the floor, on had gripping his head, while another gripping his stomach. He gritted his teeth, more red stuff dripping from his nose and mouth.
He head was throbbing, and now his chest was burning.
His muscle felt like they were jumping out of their skin, shaking and trembling as the ringing in his head increased intensity.
He was on his side, the arm that gripped his head was now under his chest, clutching his sternum. His chest was heaving, and his heartbeat was skipping, slowly, but rhythmically.

Cold.
He suddenly felt cold.
He blinked, his sight watery and wavy. Tears were streaming down his young, sunken face. He huffed, and another glob of red stuff dripped from his lips.
He looked up at the wall, it was tall, and solid, with no window, a large handle.
It hurt the way he banged his head.
Inaudible sounds came from the other side. He couldn’t make them out.
His hearing was fading.
 
“Kari phas n’ygukt vraqis?” (Am I, going to die?), he asked to the air, his voice tiny and soft.
A whisper in the wind.
He sighed, lips cracked in a small smile. His free arm, small and frail, weakly reached toward the wall with the handle.
No, it wasn’t a wall. It was a door, a big, metal door.
Scrih! Scrih!
Scrih! Scrih!
Kyuh! Kyuh!

He chuckles despite himself.
“Ikyut vraqis-at… padek.” (It looks like I really am… going to die.)

Then.

Shunk! Clunk!
Hs vision blurry and glossy, his hearing partially impaired, he doesn’t hear the sound of the door open, nor notice the garbled voices that pervade him. A bright white light cracks into the cell from the door, exposing the entirety of the room to everything outside. A small blobby figure enters his field of vision, but his vision has long since failed him.
His eyes are open, but he couldn’t see anything.

He huffs again, and another glob of red stuff escapes his lips, flopping on the stony floor. A small, wet, slippery thing, taps his thin cheeks, followed by a kyuh. Strange, he thinks, that sound in particular is familiar; but from where? He blinks, and few seconds later several large black blobs converge on him, their voices hardly legible.
He blinks, and sudden a weightlessness elevates him, before the sensation of a firm, but gentle, loving touch, holds him closely, caressing his face and features. His eyes are hollow, and his limbs are cold.

The voices are a bit clearer now, or at the very least he can understand them to a small degree.
“Stalin! Uzbek! Get a medic team over here now!”
“Saman! Adele! Search the other cells, there maybe more hidden in the dark, hurry!”
“Ire! I need you!”

The blob of mass the held him was yelling, barking at everyone. He blinked, his vision temporarily clearing. He saw, a man, young man with a strong face, his eyes were fierce, and his teeth bare. He huffed, and a glob red stuff bubbled up from his lips. The man heard him, and looked him at him, his eye were silver, and wide. He was afraid of something, the pain in his irises were all too clear.
His mouth was moving, but there was no sound.
His vision flickered, unable to understand.

And then.

“—ame.”
“Un’gwa?” (What?)
“n—Ame.”
“Gyn’yu… Dan’qya..” (I don’t… understand…)
“Name! Kid! Tell me, what is your name!?”

Name, he thought, I have… a name?
I…
I don’t… remember…
My…

“A..ten”, he responded his voice cracking, growing soft.
“Wait… stop, stop!”, the man shouted, “I said wait goddammit!”
“Sten..a.”
“What? Speak up. Please! Please say something!”
“Sten-a….”
“…!”

Silence.

“Astena.”

Then everything went black.