Tied up

Chapter eight

I'm so thirsty.

After a while I just started to forget everything, the pain, the hunger, the fear and how desperate I feel, because in my dry, drained brain was no space for anything than how thirsty I am.

I want to stop breathing, but I can't.

I want to move, but I can't.

I want something to drink, I want it so bad.

Something hits my face.

I don't open my closed eyes, I don't want to see anything, because everything just gets more and more terrible.

It feels like water would rain down from the ceiling.
Will tortured me with Water once, but he didn't really liked it. He left anyway so it can't be him.
It has to be a dream. Dreaming. That means I'm asleep. Probably I'm going to die now. Hopefully.

Wait - Water? Raining?

I still don't open my eyes, I'm to scared, but I listen more carefully.

There's something.
I don't know what this noise means, I haven't heard a lot in my life, at least nothing I would remember.
But the sound is... calming?

I open my eyes.

Water comes through the hole in the ceiling, the floor around me and my face are wet.

Rain.

An image of my sister with a giant green umbrella.

Now she's laying on the other side of the room.
It almost doesn't hurt.

The raining doesn't stop yet, but suddenly I get aware of the fact that I'm wasting the precious water.

I want to lick it from the floor, I'm so thirsty, so dry, but my tongue starts to bleed.

What can I do? I need to drink, I really do, because it hurts to much not to.

From the corner of my eye I can see the blue plastic bucket Will left.
I still don't know why he did it, but why would I care?

I crawl to the bucket, but after a few seconds I'm crying in pain.
It hurts so much, every move hurts so much.

Will once burnt one of my legs, I still have the scars, but the pain, this incredible, burning, destroying pain was nothing, nothing against what I feel now.

I want it to stop.
All I want is that everything stops.
But Will said it will never be over.
It won't stop.

I'm almost close enough to reach for the bucket, this is a small room.
Just a little bit more.
My hands can finally get the bucket and I can pull it closer.
I can't turn around.
But I need to, so I can place the bucket under the holy in the ceiling, I need to, because this water might be my only chance to stop the dry, horrible pain and I have no idea how long the rain is going to last.

Maybe if I - I carefully push the bucket in the right direction.
It stops at the exact right spot, stands still on it's edge for a little second - and then falls down.

That's it.
I want to cry, but my body can't.
I want to scream, but I can barely breathe.

I want water, but the bucket won't catch it.

I'm laying on the cold stone, my cold body is slowly getting more and more wet.

I close my eyes and open my mouth.
Still to dry, still so thirsty.
But it's getting better.
Slowly. Slowly. Just a little bit better.

I can see the bucket, it's just a little bit, just a few centimetres, out of my reach.
Maybe I can reach it with my foot.

I shove my hurting body in the right direction, my back, every bone, every nerve, my head, my skin, everything burns.

Just a little bit.
Slowly. Better.

I can reach the bucket with my foot.
I can stand it up.
It catches the water now, the rain that drops on the blue plastic is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

My body is to exhausted to feel happiness, everything inside of me wants to scream and cry instead of smiling, so I just allow myself to drift down in the darkness.