The Ivory Killer (DISCONTINUED)

-Chapter Seven- Aron

Sorry about the late update! This one is longer than usual, though, so that should make up for it. Also, please feel free to correct me on mistakes or anything that you spot!

I regained my consciousness, but refused to open my eyes. Everything felt terribly heavy, like each limb was weighed down by bags of sand. Wet bags of sand. There was no strength to hold my head up, so I let it roll to the side. My eyes were the worst of all, feeling crusted over with something. Opening my eyes would make things worse, I knew it. The moment I fully woke, the pain would be five times worse, and I would have to face whatever problem I had gotten myself into.

I stared at the back of my eyelids for the next few minutes, collecting my senses. Everything was fuzzy and distorted, but one by one, everything became clearer. Whether that was good or bad, I couldn't tell. The first sense to recover was my hearing. Small shuffling sounds of cloth and the scraping of pebbles was heard close to me, but I didn't turn my head to hear better. The sound of tearing fabric followed. Next came the smell. Wherever I was had a scent meant for the devil alone; a rancid mix of sweat, blood, and something rotten. My nose wrinkled involuntarily, which triggered a throbbing in my head. The small twinge of pain was like a chisel and hammer, slowly breaking open the dam of all my other injuries.

Everything felt horribly bruised, like my whole body had been passed through a wheat mill. I could feel the flow of blood pulsing through my body in an uncomfortable way, while I could hear it in my head. The pins and needles of my limbs faded into sharper pains partnered with certain injuries. Even though I had stopped running at least an hour before, my lungs still felt weighted and fatigued. If I was to strip away all of the pains, I would be left with just that one word; fatigued.

Then, like I had been hit with a cart, it occurred to me, "I've just been kidnapped."

I tried to open my eyes, now that I actually wanted to see where I was. My back was propped up against something hard, probably a wall, and I was sitting upright on hard ground. I couldn't feel any swaying or bumping, so I had probably been removed from the cart, assuming that they put me in the cart in the first place. The outdoors certainly didn't smell as horrid, so I must have been indoors. If so, where was the door? Were there windows?

As I tried to see, I found resistance. My eyes seemed stuck together, and they stung slightly. I scrunched my face together in frustration, the only movement I could properly carry out in my tired state. Great. I couldn't see, everything hurt, and I didn't know where I was. A divine situation, really.

I tried to raise my hands up to touch my face and remove what was stopping my eyes. I could feel them shaking without even seeing them, but they didn't make it very far. Once they reached my chin, I let them drop. My arms and shoulders ached and trembled at the slight exertion.

I could feel small bubbles of panic popping in my chest. I was trapped, blind, and too weak to move. I tried to raise them up again, but I got the same result. Sore rings circled my upper arms where the soldiers had held me, and a slight burning sensation covered my palms. I tried forcing my eyes open once last time, but they stuck.

My hand rose to meet my face once more, fueled by either fear or determination. My fingers rose above my chin this time and I grit my teeth, dead set on at least finding out why I couldn't see. If all I could move were my hands, I would take the small victory and run with it.

I was close, but something stopped me. A hand. A soft hand gently wrapped around my fingers and placed them in my lap. I moved to touch my face again, but the hand prevented me once again. Why? Just when I got close, just when I could start to help myself, I was stopped.