White Tiger (Book 1 in the White Tiger Trilogy)

Chapter 32- Fading

Hey guys, i am SO sorry i haven't posted for 3 MONTHS! I'm so lousy. I've probably lost 99% of my readers... But to that 1 percent who had stuck around, and understood that i've been having a rough time, i am so thankful.

Also, i have decided to start writing Split Second while editing White Tiger. 

I won't keep you any longer- here it is! The long awaited 33rd chapter of White Tiger.

"White Tiger"

2013 Copyright © All Rights Reserved.

Stryder Sweetman.

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Chapter 32

I was drifting in darkness, sinking into liquid, slowly falling, and yet I felt nothing. No pain, no fear, no adrenaline. Just numbness. It was soothing, a relief from the pain I couldn't remember.

Perhaps I was dead?

Maybe I was asleep, floating in the deep abyss of my mind, the only place I could find safety.

Or perhaps I was awake? Maybe I was really floating on a soft liquid, sinking deeper and deeper into darkness? Or maybe, I was being deceived, given false hope, false relief so that it could be torn away from me again.

Perhaps I was hallucinating, yet again from the serum repeatedly injected into my body. Maybe I was delirious, and the warm feeling surrounding me was but my imagination.

Maybe I was at home, in bed, sleeping, safe. I would awake and everything would be normal, this whole experience just a bad dream.

Unfortunately, I knew I was only fooling myself- when had I ever dreamt of such horrible tortures, cruel words, and astonishing realisations.

I could only be sleeping, still chained to a wall in a dark, lonesome room, with only myself to offer comfort.

I could suddenly feel the pain I had been ignorant of until then. I had held onto the tiny belief that I was imagining all of the pain, just a cruel game my mind had decided to play.

I felt myself being pulled back into the world I had willingly left, not wishing to return to the cruelty and pain.

I awoke in the disgusting prison, hearing rats and bugs scurry past. I didn't know how long I had been here. But by the aching of my bones, I figured a few days.

I opened my eyes and scanned the dark, ugly room I had come to hate. I flinched every time the harsh ground scraped a cut or bruise.

My mind was in a fog, unable to comprehend why I was here, or what was going on. There was a voice trying to lull me back to unconsciousness, it spoke soothing words to me, numbing the pain.

Something in me knew the voice, I recognised it. It wasn't me, but it was, because we were one. But one with who?

Who was the voice? If the voice was me, then who was I?

A rat scampered over my leg, digging its claws into my burnt skin. I flinched and a whimper escaped my lips. As soon as the whimper escaped my mouth, I regretted it, knowing that he had heard it.

He would be coming down now, to punish me, to accuse me of escaping.

Sure enough, I heard the scrape of chairs, and footsteps as he descended the stairs. I kept my head down, knowing that in the end, it was my fault I was in this situation.