200 words a day [drabble-ish]

Day 23, String, Dream

Sometimes these days, Manfred felt as if he was only kept together with a single, tiny piece of string. He knew that he was safe, for now. Even though he hadn't left his room for the better part of a week, he knew he was safe. He didn't have a weight around his neck, nor a constricting piece of metal around his head. The demons were silent, but Manfred had a nagging feeling that it may have something to do with the fact that he apparently was an Elothoa. Suppressing the voices of the demons that he was bonded with left him exhausted, and at the same time left him unable to fall asleep. The few times he had fallen asleep the past week he had one recurring dream: he was bound to a table, the white coats surrounding him on all sides. All he could feel was pain, in his throat, in his hands, in his feet and stomach. He had to watch with a detached numbness as they cut into him, extracting his heart, his lungs, and then his eyes, tongue, and fingers. It was a nightmare, plain and simple. Worst part was that it was made up from threats they had made when he still had been stuck in that horrible place. Sometimes he wondered if he had ever truly left.