From the very start, their autonomy was violently stripped bare. They were taken and held down and beaten to submission-enslaved and collared and owned. Years upon years drag, time wasted in the confinement of normalized abuse. They solemnly accepte...
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They had very few choices, and all of which would get them hurt. Not choosing anything is a choice on its own, and said choice is worse than all of the others.
This was stupid. A desperate act with no desirable outcome that can get them to safety. It might even fail altogether and they would end up hurt with no gain regarding their actions.
This was mindless. It was born out of desperation—like a chained dog gnawing on its own leg to escape.
But they will die regardless, they think. This won't get them anywhere good nor safe; their silence and obedience in staying in place. They will die, but they believe dying after accomplishing something is better than decaying in this filthy bathroom.
It was cold. Will they actually be able to do much of anything?
Moon wasn't going to sit and watch. He wasn't going to let the person who hurt him and those dearest to him live like he did nothing. Moon wanted a sort of revenge, and he was going to get it one way or another. It didn't matter what it cost, he already had lost everything.
And first...
Moon wiggled slightly in place, spikes of pain coursing through him like a tide. It had only been fifteen minutes max, and the pain was beginning to make itself known with every move or twitch.
But that didn't matter. There was no time to heal, nor the energy required for it. There was no time left, they were starved and would keep on starving till they died.
His wrists ached as he moved, his abdomen burning. He lifted his body upward at the hips, arching to make room for his arms to slide underneath him. The simple movement made them almost sob, every muscle felt torn to shreds.
Sun is watching. Listening. Quiet. His emotions are a buzz inside their head. He was agreeing with this plan, completely so, but there was an anticipation that hung in the air. A depressing acceptance that they might not end up in one piece after this.
The process is slow. Their arms are stiff from the cold. Their fisted hands slid underneath them till they were under their thighs. A small ache, one that they didn't know was there, began to fade when their shoulders were no longer pulled backward.
One leg at a time, they eased their feet in the space between their bonded hands. The pressure they have to put on their middle is agonizing, but they manage to wheeze through it.
Their two legs slip in, and then, with a grunt of more pain than lack of flexibility, their arms slip free to the front of their being.
Moon heaves a sigh. Step one is done. The easiest one.
Their mouth is dry as they move their hands close, lips cracked and tongue feeling like sand. The rope used is chipping but firm and resistant. It's dirty and stained with oil. Moon brings his mouth close and wraps his sharp teeth around the closest edge—there won't be any way to not taste the filthy thing, but that was something they had to power through.
