I stumbled through the empty, beaten down halls, my throat on fire. I had no idea how I got here, but one thing I knew for sure was that I needed water. The rags I was wearing as clothes hung down and drug behind me and my beard hanging from my chin itched like crazy, but I didn't have the strength anymore to reach up and scratch it every few seconds. I was covered in dried blood, although there wasn't a mark on my body besides the hundreds of scars that had already healed a while ago.
The walls surrounding me was made up of wooden planks laying horizontally, while the floor was made of dirt and the ceiling was too dark and far up to see above me as it faded into black shadows. I guessed I was underground somewhere. I couldn't remember how the Hell I got here though...
Up ahead, I saw an opening on the right wall. A way out? I half walked, half drug myself over to it, peering around the corner. My stomach dropped. Just a dead end.
But as I walked in , I noticed something in the middle of the floor. As I got closer, I realized that it was the body of a black man laying on his back. Something immediately came to mind, telling me he had been a slave.
Did that mean I was a slave too?
"No." A voice in my head said.
He was dead and the only clothing he wore was a small cloth tied around his waist, covering his groin. I was about to turn away, as there was nothing useful to me here, when something made me stop.
That smell. I knew it from anywhere. I knelt next to the body and let my eyes rake across it before placing a hand on his bottom jaw. I gripped it tightly as my fingers went into his mouth to start prying his jaws apart as far as I could. It didn't take long as there was a loud crunching noise when his jaw jerked as I broke it. Blood spurted from his mouth.
That's when his eyes snapped open and he started screaming.
So I guess he wasn't dead.
If I had any right mind, I would've left this room a long time ago. But I was just so thirsty.
My fingers rested under his jaw on his throat, which was vibrating from his screams. My nails dug in and they cut through his trachea much easier than I would've thought. But although his airways were cut off, he still screamed as if his throat hadn't just been cut. Blood poured from the sides of his mouth and onto the floor. I wished he would just shut up, he was giving me a headache.
My hands dug under his trachea and pulled it up, ripping it from his throat. Another large spurt of blood following, but I didn't care at that moment since I caught a glimpse of what I was looking for through all that red. My fingers desperately dug through the gore and pulled out a small bag filled with a clear liquid. The smell was much stronger now that I had found it.
Water.
I ripped the top of the bag and tipped it up, drinking it all as fast as I could.
The blood was already starting to dry as I left the room. The refreshing water didn't seem to last long enough and soon enough, my throat was on fire as I stumbled on again, my head pounding in my skull.
I tripped and fell, it taking me a while to pull myself up again.
I crawled to my feet and I stopped for a moment, confused.
Where was I?
I had no clue. This seemed familiar, but I couldn't recall.
I tripped a few more times, but pressed on. Up ahead, I saw a room on the right side of the hall. I cautiously peered around the corner to take a look. And empty room. I ventured inside when I realized there was a body on the floor, a black man. I guessed he was a slave. I was about to turn away when I caught the scent of something familiar, I turned around to stare at the body for a moment.
"Water," was the only word that popped into my head.
