𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙟𝙖𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙚 | 𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙞 𝙭 𝙮/𝙣 𝙭 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 ｡:°ஐ

the martyr - ii

author's note: guys help im emo 🖤 😓 also lmao peep the image above and how it's shaped like a dick

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

There was a piercing pain that zapped through your left side. The tingling sensitivity made you grit your teeth as you squinted our eyes open - only to be greeted with darkness.

What had happened in the time that you were knocked out? And for how long?

You writhed your head to the right, trying to move as little as possible. A sharp sting swelled in your temples as you turned. A slab of concrete, that grazed your back with its coarse coating, hunched just above you. More junior imitations of metal tiles were sprawled around in shattered pieces of ashen grey and tar black.

As you tried to wiggle your way out of the concrete prison, there was a searing burn that sprouted from your ankle and shot up your calf, making it feel as if your whole left leg was searing in a boiling heat that prickled at your skin with a thousand needles.

You stifled a cry, slapping a shaking hand on your mouth as you clawed at the jagged ground. The chapped rock nipped away at your fingers and drew specks of red. Trembling, you gripped onto the rugged surface and heaved your weight forwards. The pain only spiked and made you loudly exclaim as you suddenly flung your fingers off the ground and strenuously straightened your fingers in hope of subduing the aching feeling.

"Don't move."

Gradual, stark footsteps clicked against the concrete. Soon enough, a pair of feet appeared at your eye level, watered down by the fogginess in your vision. There was a quiet grunt as the figure bent down; a crumbling noise boomed above as light spilled onto you. The concrete cave was no more.

With the help of the blinking lights, your sight slowly morphed the subject into a man who sported the Jujutsu Tech uniform with a bright red hoodie - except your gut told you that this was not the cheery boy you'd grown familiar with.

There were black tattoos etched around the sharp corners of his face. They traced themselves along his forehead and curved around his cheeks like the harsh strokes of calligraphy. Your eyes loitered on the striking markings, as if you were admiring a work of art in a museum.

Arresting, bloody eyes scanned your sprawled body. You met them with hesitance - not sure what to make of the unusual attention. In an attempt to communicate, you extended a hand towards the man, but froze when he clasped his wide and bulking hand over yours.

"I said," His voice was commanding and low - so low that you could feel the ground rumble beneath him. "don't move."

Another tremor of torment possessed your leg once more, causing you to harshly wince and grip his hand with a rigid force. He sighed and heaved himself upright, but not without lightly caressing your finger with his thumb first.

"Your leg is crushed. I'm going to get it out." He grasped the hefty chunk of concrete that had pinned you down with his left, slightly kneeling to support your shoulder with his right, and raised it up as if it were only a piece of styrofoam. With a lazy thrust, the piece of concrete hurled through to air and slammed into a nearby wall, bursting into countless shards of rocky grey.

The condition of your leg  was much worse than you had expected. Where your ankle should have been, there was now a bloody smear of crimson smudged from as low as your foot to as high as your knee. Jarring gashes stretched themselves across your calf and oozed out more of the dark liquid, causing the pain in your leg to spike up once again.