Oneshots! (Mostly Hermitcraft)

Letting Go [EvilXisuma]

[POV: Evil Xisuma (Xander), 1st person]

TW: injuries, gore, death (traditional hard angst)

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It's so quiet and peaceful. There's a soft hum in the background, comforting and warm. The air around me is chilly, but pleasantly so, like a fall breeze coming to knock leaves to the ground. Although it's pitch black, there's a light source somewhere, allowing me to view myself. I'm not in a good condition, but I'm well enough to make sarcastic comments about it. I'm still ruggedly handsome, though. Write that down.

It would be perfect if the Void wasn't throwing me around itself like a cat teases a mouse. It flings me in every direction at once; not exactly up and down, or left and right. It's a never-ending ride of nausea and pulling forces. I had fun at first. It was unpredictable and wild, something I suppose I had been lacking while on Hermitcraft.

Long story short, it got old. I got sick of the perpetual motion and blood rushing to my head. The constant knocking about of my body is beginning to ride on the edge of unbearable. It's been going on for too long. It may never end. It's a roller coaster to hell I never thought I'd have. It's a torturous roller coaster I'm not sure I ever wanted.

The Void slams me into a wall. Well, half of me. I'm a sarcastic man. I need these moments of hilarity. My chest plate cracks, falling off from the forces of the Void continuing to swing my ragdoll body.

It slams me again. This time, I feel several of my ribs crack as I hit the invisible barricade. My head follows a millisecond later, smashing into the wall. The glass on my visor shatters, raining shards onto my face and peppering it with tiny cuts. I reach up, battling the force trying to pull my arms outward. I unbuckle the article, allowing it to spin away into the Void and wipe my face.

Blood drips into my eyes, stinging as I blink furiously to clear them. The Void continues to tumble me about, the motion feeling more and more like I was stuffed into a washing machine and someone turned it on. Whatever the heck a washing machine is.

It's probably a weird modded Minecraft thing.

I brace myself for another impact and it comes, starting this time on my arm. The impact tears my arm behind me, bending it into an impossible position. I feel my shoulder dislocate, the humerus being forced out of the socket. I scream as it pulls further, tearing the muscles and skin. Blood spills from the split skin, warm and wet against my skin.

The wall moves away. Or maybe I moved away from it. Strangely, the hurling has stopped. I lean back, allowing the peculiar floating sensation to seep into my body. I manually forced every screwed tight muscle in my body to relax, knowing this might be the only opportunity to rest until it resumes.

A hand grabs my arm, wrenching at the dislocated joint. I scream, quickly falling silent as the pain increases with the sound. The secure floating feeling disappears as the hand yanks me onto a solid surface. Cortisol floods my system, lighting up fight or flight. I twist my body, swinging my foot around to hit the person behind me. They block my kick effortlessly and purple magic floods the area, pinning me to the insubstantial floor.

A sword is pressed against my throat, and the shadow whispers into my ear.

"You know where she is, Xander," it hisses. "Show us how to get in."

Without context, I know what they want. "Why?" I demand, glaring daggers at the shadow. It moves, fast enough to be on the cusp of teleportation. The tip of the sword drags lightly on my skin down my shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood. I strain against the bonds holding me to the floor, my dislocated shoulder screaming as blood continues to flow from it.