Bound to love |BxB|

Prologue

Only a few knew what it felt like.

There were a lot of ways people have described it; a bright light at the end of a tunnel, a gentle hand that grasped you and pulled you to the other side, or just a sheer void that led you into a calm serenity. For some, it came suddenly, and others knew when it was going to happen.

Mine was none of the above.

I didn't find warmth, safety, or contentment. I didn't find a staircase that would point me toward a cloudy, marble-white kingdom– I didn't go unconscious and forget all about the pain I was enduring. It didn't come in a blink, nor did I ever get to sigh from relief, knowing I was going to be free.

No.

Every time I was ruthlessly pulled back, more and more agony and torment planted in my body. No matter how hard my brain tried to pull the cord, it couldn't. The damage wasn't enough.

It was torture, and they were enjoying it.

The way I would plead; my lungs mutilated to the point where instead of words, I would only cough out bubbles of blood– the way I would scream and wither every time I was kicked or pulled– the way I would go motionless and they had to poke me with sticks to ensure I was still somewhat alive...

They thought it was funny.

I didn't understand it, understand how I could deserve all of this. If there really was a God... how could she watch me and not interfere? How was it okay for me to go through hell before these monsters did?

"Hellooo?"

My eyes snapped open abruptly, though I couldn't see anything even then. They were too swollen and bruised, only a fracture of the forest around me distinguishable. That's when I realized that it had happened again.

Oh, no, no, no... no!

Waves of pain washed over me, every single ounce of my consciousness returning to the present. I wasn't inside my head anymore, I couldn't separate myself from my body. I was to feel it. Again.

"I don't know man, he looks really fucking bad."

The voice that had awoken me continued to speak somewhere above me, a miserable whine leaving my throat. I couldn't say anything, I wasn't sure if I even remembered how to use my vocal cords. Every fucking part of my body was wailing in pain.

"Well, he's still breathing, right? It doesn't matter what he looks like," another voice jumped in, this one sending jolts of fear through my head. He was the worst of them all.

You know the cliché American bully from the high school movies that would beat the nerds in the backyard every recess? The one who always had some kind of cringe nicknames for his victims and laughed at the most childish shit imaginable? He was one of them.

Expect ten times more cruel.

I didn't just have bruises here and there, or I didn't get my lunch stolen or my underwear pulled.

No, I was so pummeled that you couldn't even recognize me from my face. I had broken bones, dislocated limbs, open wounds, burn marks– and the list goes on and on. My left shinbone was sticking out for fucks sake, a puddle of blood seeping through the thick layer of snow I was laying on.

Somewhere you could only see flesh, and somewhere there was nothing left.

I was a guinea pig.

They brought out tweezers and picked my skin off. They brought out wrenches and snapped my tendons apart. These people were immoral. You think you know how it could feel like, but you don't.