Amissis Imperium

Mora Mora Mora

Everything hurts.

I was hunched over the toilet bowl, spewing up my guts.

I hadn't been able to leave the bathroom, the door being cracked open in allowed some of the red, dull lighting from the bedroom to be flooded in. I was glad for the dull, haunting lights for once since it had helped with the loud thumping that seemed to have penetrate my skull. 

My head had been hurting, the sides of my head had been pounding since the instant I woke up this morning...or night.

Once more I had no concept of time in this place -- Evan would never let me be aware of the time, or the days...I had thought that it was the same month, but even that I wasn't too sure about. 

I wasn't sure about anything anymore.

I decided to leave the bathroom light off, since I was extremely sensitive to strong lights in general. Though...I wasn't sure if I would be able to have the energy to move my arm up to turn on the switch anyway.

Opening my mouth, I gripped the toilet seat tightly in my hands, ignoring the slashes and cuts at each joint of my fingers. They were prominently visible on my skin -- a daily reminder of my betrayal against Evan. 

I hoped that if I ignored them that they would be less painful.

Feeling a wave of nausea forming in the pits of my stomach, I lurched forward, doing it again for what seemed to be the tenth or eleventh time since I had woken up. I was hoping to see something come out of my mouth. 

I dry heaved for a few seconds, my short hair almost getting caught in my mouth. 

After a few attempts of the same result...I realized that there was nothing more to puke up.

It was just bile and whatever liquid I had resting in my stomach – it wasn't even food, but that wasn't surprising since I scarcely ate anything since I've been here. At the last dinner I vividly remembered, I had mostly just ate mashed potatoes, and that had escaped out of my throat the very first time I vomited. 

I wouldn't eat anything even if my body had craved the nutrition -- even if I could barely hold myself up. I held onto the resolution that I wouldn't eat a full meal and pretend that any of this place was normal --

I didn't want to give Evan the satisfaction that I accepted my place.

I breathed in deeply, feeling my eyes begin to water. 

Snot was building up in my nose, making it extremely hard to breathe. It seemed like my nostrils were completely clogged from just how violently I was throwing up. I blew outwards in an attempt to dislodge the snot, but it wouldn't budge, causing me to open up my mouth and breathe through it.

I slowly reached over towards the toilet paper holder.

My armpits and inner elbow screamed out in pain – a sharp throbbing and unpleasant burning sensation was coming from where Evan had expertly sliced. I let out a guttural sob, reaching the toilet paper. My fingertips touched the sheets, and I didn't want to exert any more energy on moving my arm...

It hurt too much.

It would stretch and pull on the wounds.

I pulled on the roll and brought the wad over to my nose, the toilet paper still being attached to the roll. There was no way that I could rip it off from the roll at the distance that I was, and I didn't see the need to. 

I didn't care to be hygienic or well-kept after I had been tortured. I really had just wanted to wither away at the spot that I was at and pretend that my wounds hadn't bothered me -- that they hadn't hurt and weren't still hurting as they continued to heal.