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the end of everything » jill andrews

The End Of Everything » Jill Andrews

❝ Let me out. Let me be. This is the ending. The end of everything. ❞

Every muscle in his body was giving into the gravity. He felt like a wet laundry that hung slacked on a bleak day, solely held up by the clothesline.

Surprisingly though, that wasn't too far from the truth.

His eyes opened so wide that each irides were a perfect ring of hydrangea blue. He awakened to discover himself tied and hanging down from a branch. The tip of his feet was barely kissing the ground.

He tugged against the binding with all his might, but they wouldn't budge. The tight vines scraped his skin, scoring his hands with stinging cuts. He closed his eyes against the rising panic, the slight dizziness and the need to get low on the ground.

"Don't bother," a voice croaked. He swiveled his head to the right and noticed a slumped figure bound and hanging by his wrist. His eyes traveled past the boy's bloodied wrist and bruises all over his body, albeit with difficulty through the dim light of the day. "Already tried and failed." 

The boy looked at him with his head askew; espresso strands of hair matted with blood stuck to his dirt-smudged forehead. "Who are you?"

"Lincoln." He said, his voice unpleasantly raspy and alien to his own ears. "And who are you? Where am I?"

The boy's scrutinizing eyes relieved to a genial gaze, probably showing empathy at Lincoln's vulnerable and tired state. He swore if not for the bound holding him upright he would've been lying on the ground in an exhausted heap by now. But, ironically the boy looked worse than him. Though his youthful face wasn't too bad, it still bore congealed blood that'd flowed into his eyes. His clothes were an utter mess; the once blue jeans looked more like brown pants now, and his sweatshirt was covered by both grime and bloodstains. But, as he peered down at himself, Lincoln realized he didn't look any better with tore up pants and ripped shirt.

"I'm Brykie, and we're in the Jonah Forest."

"The Jonah Forest? No one comes here of their own accord. How did I get here?" He tugged at the vines, hoping it would miraculously give away but nothing happened except more bruises and drained energy.

"The big hairy monster." The boy said it as it should make perfect sense but it sounded like his concussion talking.

"What monster?"

"How bad did you hit your head, Linc?" He tried to ignore that Brykie had just called him Linc but his mouth twisted in a moue of distaste without his consent.

Lincoln blew out an exasperated sigh, ignored Brykie's annoying presence and did the logical thing. He screamed for help.

"Help! Can anybody hear me?" He shouted at the top of his lungs, as loud as his dry and sore throat could. His voice bounced off the rock walls and echoed through the air.

"Woah, dude, you're making my head pound worse!" Brykie exclaimed, "No one comes here, you said it yourself. All you're gonna achieve is exhaust yourself to death."

"Says the one who's bleeding." He mumbled.

"Am I?" Brykie shifted a bit, so he was looking up at Lincoln with more comfort. "Well, if it sweetens your sour mood, you're not alone in this situation."

Lincoln continued attempts to pry his hands out of the bound and kept on murmuring curses under his breath.

"So, since we're stuck here, let's get to know each other. I say we start with backstories."