Hermitcraft Stories

Hang In There

Joe's eyelids felt heavy. He blinked only to be met by the blurry world. Groaning, he tried to feel around for his glasses, but found that his hands were restrained behind his back.

Despite himself, Joe let out a small chuckle. This other X was an idiot. Untying the knot in the rope with the speed and relative ease that only comes from years of practicing, he released his confined arms.

The floor felt cold to the touch but eventually Joe found what he was looking for. He slipped on his glasses and took in the details of the cell. It was horrifying.

X was in the same spot he had been in earlier, chained by his wrists to the wall. He looked so broken, and his shoulder... it wasn't a pretty sight. The stab wound was rough and jagged plastered with blood—some dried, some fresh. The blood oozed out and flowed on to the floor where it formed a shiny, crimson puddle.

The amount of blood around Xisuma worried Joe. It looked to be about 1 ½ to 2 liters and anymore blood loss was sure to kill him, even with the proper care.

He reached into his pocket and cursed. His first aid kit was missing. Weighing his options, he tore off his shirt and ripped it into neat strips. His instinct and training kicked in and soon a bandage was wrapped around the wound. Somewhat satisfied with his work, he inspected X for more wounds.

On his other shoulder, the wound was mirrored. The flesh around this one had been much more cleanly cut and appeared to have been burned. Very few signs of blood dripping out of the wound were showing. It must have been cauterized. It sure was nasty, but alone it wasn't life threatening. The rest of the injuries weren't concerning, but they all added up.

Shifting his gaze to the cuffs restraining X, he inspected the lock. Taking off his glasses momentarily, he ran his thumb along one side and removed the lock pick he had hidden there.

Joe slipped his glasses back on. This lock was going to be easy. Within seconds the lock clicked open. He lowered Xisuma's limp arms to his sides and lay him down on the floor.

He wiped his hands on his pant leg and was shocked to find a hole in it. The memory of a dagger being plunged into his thigh flashed in his mind and flinched at the pain he remembered. He shakily searched for the wound, but to his surprise, he found nothing. The skin was unpierced.

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Hold up. We passed 2,000 reads? When did that happen? Thank you all so much! I really do appreciate that you take the time to read this. It means a lot.

Y'all are so amazing!

-J