Their planet was forgotten--Destroyed, someone had told them. They were taken a very long time ago, taken and held down and beaten to submission. The more time they waste, the worst. One day they'd grow too weak to do anything--one day they wouldn't...
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This drawing is for chapter two! I kept forgetting about it so have it now! -x-
When they are pulled from unconsciousness, it wasn't the gentle and slow process they usually experience. It wasn't how they would stretch and take their time to wake up their mind and body.
This was different. This pulled on their subconsciousness like a hook. It slapped them so hard it felt like they were falling from a building in the first few seconds of it. It was harsh and unforgiving, and they whined a hoarse sound that ached in the back of their throat. A subtle sob made its way out of their lips at the tight feeling in their chest, when breathing felt harder a task than it should and their whole body burned.
Moving proved to be a mistake and they cried out when every muscle seemed torn to shreds under their skin. Sun—they think they see the curly hair of his—opens his eyes with too much trouble, faint eyebrows furrow and their eyelids scrunch closed at the harsh light.
His hands twitch, fingers spasming. He lay there a moment as his body began to shake more and more, an unmistakable panic and crushable feeling began to fill their lungs.
They were wracked with grief the moment their mind caught up to them a bit more, the moment they recognized the stench of their owner's house and the familiar feeling of their prosthetic attached to their skin. More feeling reaches into their senses: the water that soaked into the sleeves of their jacket (and probably sweater too), and the bitter taste in their mouth.
White pupils survey the room for just a second before Sun yelps in pain at the harsh light directly over his being. Curling up hurt more than it should—their muscles were exhausted and would probably hurt for days—but it made it a bit less cold.
It was cold, they now realized when they curled up more on themselves. It was freezing, actually, and the spot they slept on was just the slightest bit warmer, but nothing much.
They do not remember falling asleep.
Their shoulders tremble as their breaths hitch up every time they try to inhale. It is a painful process, and the hurt in their being is physical and emotional. Their chest ached a familiar feeling of hopelessness and regret, of grief and sadness. They found themselves falling more and more into despair, letting their mind drown in the hurt. They had nothing else to do other than regret everything they ever were.
They should have known. They should have never stayed with you. They have dragged their problems to you and look what happened.
For all they know, you could have been dead the moment you hit the ground, and the last image they have of you is where you are splattered with blood. They had not seen your face, and they were grateful. They did not think they could take the memory if they saw it.
They wanted to remember your smile towards them.
But you are no more. If you are not dead, then you will not come to help them. Why would you? After you were hurt because of their owner, why would you ever chase after them once more?
