Ceasefire - A Lost Chapter
Created: 02.07.23
Finished: 02.13.23
Edited: 05.20.23
Published: 05.20.23
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Trigger Warning: flashbacks, descriptive torture and attempted escape scenes, be cautious, death. snow, fire
Word Count: 2864
A/N: ..i was supposed to upload the next chapter, but..there's like..I have to attend to this sleepover thing between classmates, before graduation. And although I don't really have the mood to go, it's kinda like a one time thing, and I despise missing chances. SO I have to attend, despite having no close friends within my class. So yes, sorry. I have to go somewhere.
This chapter is originally part of the next one I was ought to publish, BUT since it got to 10 000 words, yeaaa, had to cut it up to three parts. And since the first part seems irrelevant, I plan to cut it off and leave it out. This is the cut part of the chapter; something so out of place, but maybe you guys might like to read it. As for the next chapter, I have to heavily edit it since it was tore off to parts, which is why I couldn't publish it today.
Please be cautious, there is torture and attempted escape scenes that might be too..yeah, discretion is advised. Art, as always, is mine, you guys cann eat it omph. See ya next week everyone, loves^^
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It was cold.
No, there was a bit of warmth all around him.
...I'm back.
His untrimmed nails ground against the rough dirt, attempting to ground himself as he gets back to reality.
Its texture is different, different from the valley. It was warm and comforting, the cave has always been a dread.
Everything felt unreal if he did move, yet still, he pulled himself upright and opened his eyes.
It was dark, it was quiet..where was he?
Was it the perfect time to escape?
Escape?
Escape from what again?
Gulping a dry lump down his throat, he used whatever solid material to get himself up..feeling disconnection on his lower body.
How to walk again?
Does he start with the right foot or left?
Oh it doesn't fucking matter.
His hand rubbed against the rough cave walls. At this point, he remembered where he's supposed to go.
Well, more on familiar than remember.
He trusted each step as it led the way without his control.
The way he went left to right, straight and back, he could no longer bother to question it. His body knew the way out, even if he had little to no memory.
The scent of rancid had dissipated at each movement, he was getting far away from the pile.
He was going to miss those bodies. Those bodies of his.
He didn't understand how he had formed connections to those lifeless things..flesh rotting in time, frost slowing it down.
What little of them left, it kept him warm.
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