Renaissance of Chaos

VII

!!WARNING: ABUSE PRESENT IN THE LAST PARAGRAPHS.!! It's not fully described, but it's there nonetheless.

Your insides were on fire. Pain ravaging your abdomen as iron and rot rushed to your mouth, burning your tongue and throat in their way to the outside. You felt the urge to scream, but when you opened your mouth only waste came out, mixed with pitiful wails of distress. Your head felt as if someone continuously bashed it with a hammer, on both the inside and outside of your skull, and the stench of bile and dirt didn't make it any better, nor the screams surrounding you. You couldn't breathe, nasal airways blocked by snot and each mouthful of air igniting a new fire in your esophagus. Your eyes stung from the tears mixed with dust, but you couldn't stop crying. Sweat rolled down your back, cold, and slick, your clothes sticking to the skin in its wake, highlighting the cold shivers taking over every cell in your body.

You were dangling on the edge between consciousness and a blackout by a very thin thread threatening to break any second and let you fall into the void below. A sound, a familiar voice, you sought for something to anchor you to reality, ugly as it was. You could distinguish your friends' voices through the cacophony of noises echoing through the room like a horde of angry bees. See them, you could not for your eyes were squeezed shut from the headache and pain, but you could feel their hands on you, trying to help you up, aid you in any way they knew. However, each touch brought only more pain to your already injured body. Yet, it was better than nothing. You held onto them, struggled to climb up, pull yourself away from the Abyss, but each effort only caused the thread to thin even further and lower you deeper in the darkness.

"I...I can't hand on anymore! Dear Lord! I can't hand on anymore! " you realized with horror, hands aching and begging to release their burden. You glanced once more at the Abyss, fright gripping your being with its freezing claws like a beast eager to devour its prey.

You didn't want to fall! You didn't want to fall! You didn't want to fall! YOU DIDN'T WANT TO FALL!

You shouted prayers to the Lord above, pleading for strength, for power to hold on until someone came to your rescue. Your requests fell on deaf ears, however, and with each passing second, you lost more and more strength, sweat forming on your palms and making you slip. Your eyes began to water and grow wide with horror as you watched yourself lose grip on the thread and slowly descend into the Abyss.

A sharp scream escaped from your mouth, as the thread finally snapped, letting you succumb to the embrace of the void.

℘♦℘

"Is everything ok?" the store clerk asked, her brows furrowed in concern.

"Ah... yes... I'm alright. Sorry about that. Ah, yes, what was I saying again?" James replied, trying to change the subject.

The woman sighed in relief and went over the list of things he had asked her for, commenting on some of the flowers and offering alternatives for those they didn't have in stock. James listened, agreeing, or disagreeing now and then, but it would be a lie to say he was completely focused on her. Something wasn't right. He couldn't say exactly what, but he felt a certain shift in his mind, something throbbing in the back of his head, aching, and pulsating like an infected wound. An ill-fated feeling began to fester into his being. He ignored it to the best of his abilities, putting on a smile and paying attention to the store clerk's words.

However, the sensation didn't go away nor dimmed as he made the purchases. He didn't know what could cause it, which only added more to his anxiety.

What could have changed? Why this strange feeling of swimming through muddy waters all of the sudden?

Suddenly, his attention was drawn by the TV. It was a rerun from that morning news about a showman coming to the city and hosting a show on Friday night. James couldn't deny being interested, with everything being said and praised about it, but there was no way he would be able to go. He still had to look after the bugs and help them accommodate to the changes. He couldn't really complain about it, for it was funny in a way, to watch them try and maneuver through the hallways, while claiming they needed no help from him. He sought to make their journeys more feasible by using plastic tubes to make sure they could walk around without fear of being stepped on, building elevators and trams together with the Pale King. Even so, those paths lead only to the kitchen and few to the living room and were used by a few designated individuals, which were all subordinates of the Wyrm, since they were both the neediest and were in the best position.