Don't Open That Door - GoM 1

6

It felt as if they were stabbing him slowly with a red hot knife. He opened his eyes but he couldn't make out anything he saw. He was surrounded by a light, bright, surreal green. Somebody moaned—a man; a muffled, distant sound. Heat. Like fire all over his body. It made the air painfully cold to breathe, and to bear it in touch with his skin. A shadow loomed over him when he tried to move. He felt pinned to something warm that stuck to his back.

Thirst. Burning his throat. The shadow. Human? A shimmering circle of light shone where the head was supposed to be. The light falling upon his eyes made everything spin around. He closed them to shield them. Something light and fresh covered them. A little relief.

The excruciating pain in his thigh receded. He tried to take a deep breath, to ease his burning throat. Coughing made his side feel like a thousand spears, even worse than his leg. Out of instinct, he tried to roll over and curl up. He couldn't. Something still kept him pinned down, like a heavy bar across his chest, holding down his shoulders. He heard more groans.

Then he felt the unique, fresh, life-saving touch of water on his lips. He opened his mouth, trying to drink as much as he could. The groaning stopped. Something pressed his parted lips softly and a thread of drops reached his numb tongue. He stood still. That way, the pain didn't turn into burning stabs. And the light didn't hurt his eyes. He no longer heard the man groaning. And water flowed through his lips, drop by drop. Until everything slipped away.