Crisis Of War

{ LXXIV }

{TRIGGER WARNING! EXPLICIT CONTENT! DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT, THANK YOU! Otherwise, enjoy!} 

'When will she wake up?' A soft voice whispers. It sounds like a small girl. Like... Jade. 

'We don't know yet.' That's Celine for sure, 'It might take a while, but she's going to be okay.' What is she doing here? 

I want to move. I want to open my eyes. I want to talk. 

But my body is too heavy, my eyelids seem to be glued shut, my throat is sore, and every inch of my body hurts. 

I can hear them walk around the room, slowly moving farther away from me as their voices seem to disappear. 

A door closes and I try to force my muscles to work with me here. 

But they protest, a wave of pain crashing into me at the thought of moving the slightest bit. 

Why does it hurt so much? I don't remember getting beat up this badly.

Sure, they did try to catch me, but I was quicker. I killed them before they could get to me. Right? 

So why does it feel like I should be dying? Why does it feel like I am dying? 

I try to take a deep breath, forcing my lungs to let the cold air sting for just a second, and let out a soft groan. 

The room I'm in is silent. Dead silent. 

Am I alone? Where are Isabelle and Veah? Did we get Rio out of there? 

It feels like there's a new book added to the huge stash of books that are weighing on my head, making my brain feel like it's being squished by all of them. 

I need something for the pain. I need to move, talk, open my fucking eyes, and see where everyone is. 

But my body is too heavy. My head is pounding too hard. And I can't remember how this all happened.

I fight the pain rushing through my head and try to remember what happened. 

I killed that guy in front of the door after he dragged Isa into that room, and then what? 

The back of my head hurts as if the memory brings back the feeling, and I feel my muscles tense all at once. 

An attack from behind. Someone hit me in the back of my head with something hard. 

Flashes of Rio being tortured flash in front of my eyes, making my body hurt even more. He cut him. He whipped him. He hit him. 

But he was unconscious... Did he make it out too? 

I take another deep breath, feeling my lungs hurt a bit less this time, and wait for a sound to return in the room. 

But nothing changes.