Conan
I watch as she collapses to the floor, her head colliding with the hard concrete. I watch as the blood starts to gush from an open wound on her forehead.
I watch with pride. I watch with relief.
I feel the nepenthe wash over me as I stagger over to the door with as much energy as I can muster, not bothering to look back at the unconscious Rocky and whoever may have freed me from this hell.
I feel a laugh rise from my throat as I finally grab onto the door handle. My eyes widen with excitement as I press my knuckles downward on the handle to gain my freedom.
But it doesn't open. It's still locked, and I feel myself immediately turn to a mode of panic.
Out of pure obsession with the idea of escaping, I attempt to use my muscles to break open the wooden door, but it doesn't budge. I look at my arms.
I don't see the muscle I used to see. I see skin and bones. I see weakened limbs that I can't even recognize as my own.
I fall to the ground and my eyes don't hesitate to allow water to fall from them at an alarming rate as I look at my blood covered hands. I examine them and remember: I'm like this because of her.
Within half a second, my mood changes and a wave of anger falls over me. I have rocky to blame for this. Just her. Her haunting voice taunting me day and night about how she imprisoned me in her own personal hell simply to torture me.
I look over at her collapsed body, a pool of blood surrounding her. My gaze is so focused out of pure hatred that I don't notice the noises coming from behind me. I don't hear the rustling of paper and footsteps approach me.
My airflow is quickly cut off by a paper bag being wrapped around my neck, causing me to experience the immediate feeling of suffocation that I just gave to Rocky .
_
A/N
Another short chapter oopsieeeeeeee I'm sorry.
