Chapter 8

9 0 0
                                    

Evan lost count of how long he had been in the basement. The time unending with no light and no windows to tell the difference in time. 

He knew it had been a while since the man had come to see him. He was weak from not eating much. He had awoken to a single water bottle beside his mattress. He figured the man didn't want him to do, but he wasn't doing anything more than that. He drank slowly through the day and night, only taking small sips because he didn't know when the man would return. He knew it had to have been at least two days. He had been sleeping for a while and would wake weak and unsure of how much time had passed. 

He stood up slowly using the wall as a crutch. He was weak, his legs barely supporting him. He hasn't had much to eat and now without having anything in days he legs were shaky. He managed to make it to the bucket and started the slow walk back to his mattress. He ended up sinking to his knees and crawling back to bed. 

He was shaky and freezing. He knew he must have a temperature. The thin blanket did little to keep the coldness of the room from seeping into his bones. He huddled in the corner with the blanket wrapped around him. His arms were tucked tight against his chest with his legs brought up curling into a ball. 

He couldn't stay awake much longer, drifting off again into uneasy sleep.

*******************************************************************************************

Evan jerked awake, teeth chattering. It was the third time that he had awakened from the cold. He tried to turn over moaning as his body was aching. His head was hurting so bad he couldn't open his eyes. His entire body was achy and the constant shaking from being cold was not helping matters. He could feel tears sliding down his face but had no energy or desire to wipe the tears. He truly felt like he would die down there, alone. 

He reached his hand around the blankets and found his water bottle. There wasn't another one which meant the man still had not return. He drained the last of the bottle while lifting his head just enough to not choke. He laid back down and drifted again.

********************************************************************************************

The next time Evan woke, he was even weaker. He couldn't move. His head was hurting so bad he could only whimper. His mouth was dry and could not form any words. His lips were chapped and his tongue was stuck in his mouth. He started crying again trying to beg for help. 

"M...mm.. Master... P..ppplease. Help me" His words came out hoarse and barely above a whisper. He did not think he would get heard. His eyes opened slowly. The room remained the same. The same everything and nothing was going to help him. He couldn't make it to the bucket and ended up soiling himself in the mattress he lay in. He couldn't move from the spot and felt shame and utter embarrassment.

Unable to extend any more energy, the tiredness grew with the dizziness until he fell asleep once more. 


*********************************************************************************************

This time when Evan was coming out of his nap, he was delirious. He could only make out small noises and whimpers. His bed was wet, cold, and he couldn't do it anymore. He could feel himself begging, pleading with every whimper and cry that escaped his lips. He was dying. No one would ever know what happened to him.

Going in and out of consciousness, Evan couldn't understand the sights he was seeing. One time opening his eyes he could see shapes in the corners. He couldn't determine if they were real, or fake. He wondered if they were waiting for him to die so they could take him. Other times he saw darkness, shadows creeping across the floor to cover him until he was out again.

Waking again he could feel himself being carried. Was it time? Were they finally taking him away from this hell? 

"You are sick and dirty. I have to get you clean. " The words barely made any sense. Was he getting clean to be taken away? Why would it matter? 

He could feel himself being lowered. It was warm. So overly warm that it made his body better but the sickness worse. He could feel his head spinning again. He cracked his eyes open and saw the man standing above him. 

He could barely get the energy to wonder what was happening. Why was he there? He had left him to die. Before he could think more thoughts the sickness won, pulling him into darkness where he hoped that he would not wake up into again. 

Never letting you goWhere stories live. Discover now