Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Still Alive But I'm Barely Breathing

Pain.

White, hot, blinding pain.

It was all I felt. It was everywhere, unbearable, relentless, offering no escape from the constant torment. Groaning as my mind slowly regained consciousness I fought the roll of my stomach at the one overriding sensation coursing through me, pain. I tried to assess the extent of my injuries, but my mind was as uncooperative as my body.

My head was pounding like a heartbeat against my skull. I felt a warm, sticky liquid trailing down my neck, blood, and knew more than likely I'd sustained a concussion. Someone needed to tell these guys you didn't need to hit someone that hard to knock them out. I'd be lucky if I didn't have brain damage, idiots.

My breathing was shallow and painful, an ache in my lungs making deep inhales impossible. Even the tiniest movement sent a searing bout of agony cascading through my midsection, burning a trail across my lower body. I didn't need Hershel's veterinarian degree to know I had a few cracked ribs.

My shoulders were screaming, so stiff I worried I'd never be able to feel them again much less use them. It felt like they were dislocated, and I tried to move them, do anything to lessen the strain on my tender joints, but a fiery stinging on my wrists stopped me with a hiss. The rope, I forgot about the rope. It was still wrapped around my wrists, but they were now suspended above my head. I opened my swollen eyes, following the rope from my discolored, bloody wrists higher and higher. By the time I was done following Satan's leash I was staring at the ceiling.

Son of a cumdumpster!

I blinked, hoping what I saw was the result of my traumatic brain injury, but I'd never been particularly lucky. I pulled and strained, ignoring the throbbing in my body as I tried to dislodge my hands from the hook that was hanging from the warehouse ceiling, but I was too far off the ground to get the leverage I needed to free myself. As a side note, what the kind of sadistic warehouse had hooks hanging from the ceiling? This was officially the warehouse from Hell.

The agony pulsating through every nerve ending helped clear the fuzziness from my mind. Reality quickly set in as I came to grips with the severity of my situation. I was hanging in the middle of the warehouse, the tips of my toes barely scrapping the dirty warehouse floor, my body was beaten and bloody, and I had been kidnapped. I tried to stand, balancing on the tips of my toes, but my normal coordination failed me. I stumbled forward then sideways, and finally back trying to alleviate the pressure on my injuries, but nothing helped.

When my toes slipped out from under me I grunted in pain when my body weight pulled my already tender shoulder muscles. The wounds on my wrist reopened, fresh blood pouring down my arms. I felt numerous cuts on my battered face that hurt when I moved my mouth and nose. The stretch and pull of the injuries made my skin feel too tight. I could see fairly clearly out of my right eye, but my left eye was blurry, so swollen I could barely open it much less see. My jaw was sore, but it didn't feel broken, just a myriad of cuts as I traced my tongue along my lips tasting the metallic tang of blood.

"Welcome back," Luke drawled, standing up from a chair I hadn't noticed until now. I tried my best to glare at him, but since I was hanging there like a busted piñata it left a little to be desired. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep the night away."

"Girls gotta get her beauty rest."

My voice sounded strange to my ears, horse and scratchy, my larynx sore from being choked at the shopping center.

He laughed, "Maybe you should go back to sleep then cause you look like shit." What a dick. I knew I looked like 10 pounds of chewed asshole, but I had the excuse of having my ass beat. What was his? "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm afraid we don't have time for that. I've got a pretty exciting night planned for you."