A Living Shield (John Price x OC/Reader slowburn)

6) The Illusion of Time

[Song 🎵: Borrowed Time - Straight Shot Home]

The ache that settled on your chest was heavy, deep. 

As your brain struggled to push through the thick haze, it was the first thing you felt. For a moment, waking up was all you could muster. Until the rest settled in, faster than you wanted. The pain that radiated from your nose was horrible. 

You were slowly coming by after Diaz had knocked you out, not sure how long ago that was. You tried your best to inhale sharply, clearing the blood in your nose but tears stung from the corners of your eyes when a searing pain rose through your entire face. Your nose was shattered.

You were definitely not trying that again.

Ragged breathing was all you could push out. Whatever extra punches Diaz had given you as you lay knocked out had really done you in. You felt exhausted. Not really willing to move. Your hands felt numb as you tried stretching them a little. Continued strain from hanging bound for an unforseen amount of time behind your back, had left them feeling foreign to your body. Like separate attachments.

You'd never admit it, but you longed for just a moment of freedom. Just to feel what your shoulders felt like in their natural position. What your face felt like, breathing normally, no swelling in your line of sight. You would never ask for mercy, they didn't deserve that satisfaction, but what you wouldn't give to just be home for a second. 

Sat on the sofa in the shared livingroom with the others, talking about literally nothing, just bulshitting. You felt yourself getting sentimental.

It was stupid of you, to think about all the things you were missing. All the things you wished to feel and unfeel. You realised it meant your minds stability was wavering. Your goal hadn't changed, you weren't going anywhere. But your mindset was slowly being torn down with every hit to your temple and every punch to your gut.

Stop being a bitch. It could be worse. They could have cut off my fingers one by one by now. It's too late for self pity.

Your fatigue and deeply rooted pain settling in made you realise how your iron mind was slowly bending. Something you never had allowed yourself to think about. 

The illusion that you were unbreakable had always been a lie. 

You had just willed yourself to believe it up until now, never wanting to seem weak or capable of having too many emotions. And in a sense, it wasn't a lie. You wouldn't break. You would break down, sure. But you would never break and give them what they wanted.

Whatever they asked from you, they wouldn't get. Your task force's safety was all you still cared about. Dying for them was a given.

You tensed up involuntarily, as you heard footsteps resounding on the outside of your concrete cell. They seemed to be getting closer towards your steel door, stopping short before murmuring could be heard. Whoever it was, they were speaking in a hushed but urgent tone to your doors guard of the day.

You had figured out they rotated out your guard. A new one every day. At least you thought it was a day, time wise you still had no idea how long you had been here. It drove your mind nuts.

Ever since breaking your nose, most of your breathing was done through your mouth and with a collapsed lung on top, it had become difficult in general. It made more noise than anything, so you stopped breathing altogether, hoping to catch what they were talking about.

At first it all melted together. You couldn't catch the beginning or an end to any sentence. Slowly but steadily however, the one who initiated the conversation, you guessed, raised his voice. His Latino accent was thick and he spoke rapidly, stressed.