Grandeur Defector

VI

It had been a week by now, he was sure of it this time.
Eleven tried moving himself; slowly and weakly, his body shook with sickness as it shifted. He coughed hard at the effort, so much so that he felt out of breath.
Everything hurt.

I hope I wilt and weather away like a dead weed in the wind, gone and forgotten.

He hadn't ate the entire time, recalling the taste of the bird he had while he was alone in the wilderness. It had been tough to chew and yet barely cooked, but still sustenance he could somewhat trust... the blank stare of death haunted his mind, as did every other stare of nothingness had before.
Prisoners are usually poisoned to keep quiet. Their deaths are ruled as 'unknown', their lives disregarded. Am I even a man to Flip... Flippy? That's his name, right? Or was it Jacks?

"Hey."

No. Nope. I'm going to die, don't stop nature.
His eyes felt weirdly heavy. With a sudden flop, he lost what little balance he had left sitting up and was stuck laying down. He groaned.
Ouch.

"...Prisoner?"

Was someone talking? He couldn't really see, his eyes ached. The pain in his belly from the lack of food was severe by this point, like he'd swallowed an entire bee's nest whole. His head throbbed painfully as he lay there, unable to move.
It'll be over soon.

Someone is... calling him.
Eleven didn't know who, but didn't care anymore. Was that the sound of a door? He wanted to rest himself. Sleepy, he closed his eyes, then flung them open as his body spasmed painfully from another coughing fit.
Sleep, sleep... sleep, forget.
Forget that you're a monster awake, forget that you're afraid of your sins at night. Forget the world is beyond saving, forget that blood is on your hands.

"Tiger...?"

Do I deserve to be a tiger, proud and shameless? I am neither of those. I don't deserve to even breathe.
As he dozed off still in pain, the distant sound of someone sounding concerned buzzed in his ears.
Give up on me. You don't care. You are just assigned to care about me. It's not real.
You're not real.

The voice got louder, and he felt something gently poke his side. It felt rough, but not unbearable.

Give up, would you? You should hate me.
He spasmed again, harder than before. For a split second, his vision faded to black and returned, replacing his normal vision with tainted red.

I'm...dying. You're too late.
Give up. Go home, have a good life unburdened by me. You probably have parents waiting for you. You have friends, a lover maybe. You have so much.... I have nothing.
Let this happen.
Set me free.

Something— or rather someone— shoved him.
The voice kept calling to him, becoming progressively more panicked as it spoke. It sounded muffled in comparison to the ringing in his ears.
Why do you keep trying? If I died, you wouldn't deal with me anymore. So why try? Why...?

He was being pushed back upright by an outside force. The scent of food wafted in the air. Eleven drooled uncontrollably, a little coming out of his mouth.
No.... damn it.

The voice was much louder this time, as if right next to him.

"...Hey. I never introduced myself. My name is Flippy Ursidae, I'm uh... a soldier here."

Give up. I can't be saved.
The scent of food got stronger as Eleven listened, just barely making out Flippy's words.

"I'm 18 years old, not that it really matters for this I guess. I was allowed into the military when I was 17, isn't that crazy? Father trained me well enough that I was allowed in sooner. I've... always found the idea of serving for Animalia to be kind of cool. My mom is supportive of me, and well—heh— maybe she thought it was a good way to humble me. But anyways..."