Rook POV
Nothingness. The absence or ending of life or existence. A concept that has been argued about and studied for ages. A theory that has yet to be proven, and yet, that is where I found myself. I felt nothing, thought nothing, wanted nothing. There was no past, present, or future. I had no corporeal form to reach out with my senses. Nothing tethering me into place. I was nothing, and nothing was me until I wasn't.
Pain. Excruciating, mind-numbing, blinding pain. It consumed my entire sense of being. I wasn't dead. I wasn't alive. I was pain. After experiencing nothingness, all I knew now was pain. It was the only thing that registered across my synapses and identified as my consciousness. There was nothing else. Reality didn't exist. Time didn't exist. Only pain existed. Only when my body and mind could no longer sustain themselves did the pain release its grip, and I lapsed into nothingness again.
It became a seemingly neverending cycle. I went between pain and nothingness countless times. Slowly, the consumption of both eased, and awareness returned. Just little things. Sensations with no thought. The feelings broke into the cycle, settling themselves between pain and nothingness. Grew larger as it consumed the darkness and battled against the pain, attempting to ground me in the physical, in reality.
The pain woke me again, making me whimper. The sound barely registered through the blood pounding in my ears. The pain was still excruciating, but it had lessened enough for me to know I wasn't dead. But anything more complex than basic instinctual thoughts was still out of my reach. I felt myself levitate, and something cold pressed against my lips. Instinct had me clamping my mouth shut, stalwartly refusing whatever it was. I felt something tighten around my jaw, forcing my mouth open. Something slid against my tongue, making me want to gag and spit it out, but I was forced to swallow. Within seconds I floated down, and the darkness consumed me once again.
I wasn't sure how often I woke up in pain and was forced to drink something, but my mind cleared a little more each time. Becoming more aware of my surroundings, I realized I was no longer in the forest or the dropship but somewhere else. That I was being cared for and my wounds treated by someone. I could feel a softness beneath me and a warm weight covering most of my injured body. I could hear a fire crackling nearby and the occasional footsteps and voices that spoke in a language I didn't understand. All of this came in bits and pieces until I finally woke up one day and stayed awake and aware.
I winced at the light and blinked a few times as I adjusted to the dim lighting of the room. The interior was bathed in fire and candlelight, lighting the wood of the walls with a warm glow. Gazing upward, I could see that the roof was made of rough-hewn wood, blackened by years of smoke. I turned my head towards where I usually heard sounds coming from and saw a large man standing at a table doing something. I felt fear course through me seeing the man. He was bigger than anyone I'd ever seen before, with long dark hair in dreads and wearing dark clothing. I tore my gaze from him and resolutely continued inspecting where I now found myself. Looking around the room, I saw a lit fireplace to his left, and I felt a slight draft reaching me occasionally from a door or window behind me. There was another cot, a small round table with chairs surrounding it. A darkened space looked as if it opened into a hallway. A set of tall shelves held glass jars of various sizes and pouches; hanging from the rafters and walls were bundles of aromatic plants.
Attempting to see more, I shifted and moaned in pain, causing the man to snap his head around. I recoiled, catching the side of his face covered in ink. A beard covered the lower half of his face and trailed to his chest. Our eyes locked for a long moment before he shifted to the fireplace. I fearfully watched as he poured something from a kettle hanging there into a mug. Then he was coming towards me with a determined look. I tried to back away from him, but the pain and my injuries prevented me from moving, and he quickly lifted me and pressed the cup against my lips.
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Scars to Your Beautiful (New)
FanfictionRook didn't have a good life on the Ark. Abused by her parents, invisible to the Ark's residents, and bullied until she snapped. At 14, Rook found herself in Lockup where she gained a reputation as a fighter. A brawler to the guards and a protector...