(A/N: This is a rough version.)
Oh, the pain. The pain. I have endured much of it. It will not cease. The agony, always there... It throbs. It kills my endurance, my will... I will have to give in, or it will continue. I mentally slap myself. I mustn't. It's the only way. I can do this.
I don't believe myself. It is worthless to believe. Hope is lost, forever. My only concern is to end this misery without giving them what they desire so badly.
They will kill me. They know that is what I want. They know it's the only way to stop the pain immediately. The only thing keeping them from doing it is their own wish for good entertainment and their lust for knowledge. They want something that I have.
I can't give it to them. It's too much to bare, though. I must. But I can't. I think of all those who will be harmed if I give in to their cruel devices. Everyone will be affected by their will. Few will live to tell of it.
All of my loved ones will die. They will be tortured, and eventually their minds will fade into oblivion, and they will be gone. Soon after, their bodies will not have the ability to take any more. It will die as well. Eventually...
That is why I mustn't tell. That is why I mustn't live. I am a danger to them. My own wish for comfort and peace is their enemy. I want the pain to stop, but I know that if I let them take the pain away, if I give them what they want, I will be inflicting more of it on others than I could ever have the time to experience. They will be punished for my weak will.
The pain increases almost imperceptibly. But I am familiar with this method. They are confused at my persistence and endurance. They want to force me to give in. They will flood my body with all those things that cause me this pain. I will be dead to the world, stuck in the pain. They will stop my mind from any other thoughts. Then they will look inside it, and leach the essence of my memories from the very place they were born. The pain would be devastating. With a short-lived pang of sorrow, I remember that the process is not deadly.
It would be better for me if it was.
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Shards and Feathers
RandomThis is a collection of short stories. Other words for what may be contained in this collection: fragments, segments, excerpts, bits, pieces, shorts, extracts, and shreds. (Redundancy is fun.) This is the place where puzzles and snippets are kept an...
