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Tumbling down, uneven cemented ground tore into her skin. Hands scrambled and clawed, nails bending threatening to crack and snap. Chin cracked against the floor and teeth jarred.
Her knees ached from the impact and her elbows protested when she struggled to push herself up, liquid slowly dripping down from the tear under her jaw. Her effort was useless when she was quickly forced back down. The wind left her lungs instantly and she floundered to breath. Her back throbbed, spine unable to support herself against the pressure that dug into her, pressing down against her muscles and bones.
The weight of the foot was unimaginable for someone of her age and feeble size and the wounds that bleed through the shirt burned immensely at the touch.
The strikes were relentless.
The pain festered and ate her, drowning her in blood. Her fleshes writhed and twisted, breaking apart.
It hurt hurt hurt hurthurthurthurthurt –
She can't breathe.
Something was barking across the room, shadow stretched and loomed over her with too sharp teeth.
She can't scream.
She wants the pain to stop.
She wants to breathe.
She wants to scream.
She want to –
She can't breathe.
She can't –
Breathbreathbreathbreathbreath –
She can't –
.
.
.
.
.
.
Breath.
Miharu lurched up, awakened with an arched back and a loud gasp, hands clawing at the blanket covering her chest. Brunt nails digging and pressing, unable to ground herself to reality.
She coughed harshly, quickly flipping over and forcing herself up, clambering onto her knees, careless of her body's protest at the sudden move as she bent and tore into her bed sheet with her fingers. Her throat burns with each gasp and cough, the rough exhalation and inhalation scratch ruthlessly and mercilessly.
