I've Had It Done Wrong Before

1

Okay I was just rambling here. I don't know if it makes any sense?

Started: 7/31/2020

Published: 

>.<

Eyes were looking at him, watching him with depraved glee as the others defiled him. 

There was nowhere else to hide; everywhere he looked, he either saw the gazes of his captors, or of the statues set around the area. The last time he had been subject to this, he had settled to watching one of the statues. Eventually, it began to creep him out; he couldn't discern any emotion from the statue's face, and he couldn't even tell where it was looking. So he just stared up at the ceiling, at the ornate decoration decked out in gold leaf. 

At least there were no eyes there. 

But he could feel their gazes. 

It made his skin crawl. Even if he closed his eyes or looked up at the ceiling, he could feel their gazes just as clearly as he could feel the pain from being physically violated. It was like dirt or mud scrubbed into his skin so deeply, he couldn't wash it off. No matter how much he rubbed or scratched his arms when he was back in his cage. He couldn't get clean, and doubted he ever would. 

He doubted he would ever get out of that terrible situation, either. He would just be a vessel for however long it took to summon whoever - or whatever - they were trying to bring forth. Every day, he would be violated and filled with that same warm liquid. Then thrown roughly back into his cage. He was just a vessel for being filled, whether it was with the warm liquid during those unspeakable acts, or with the lukewarm glop they forced down his throat. 

No matter what was happening, those eyes were watching him and he couldn't escape. 

They haunted him even during the rare times he was able to asleep. He couldn't remember the last time he had dreamed. Every time he managed to close his eyes and fall asleep - most times it was of exhaustion - he was haunted by nightmares. The faces of his captors morphed into something nightmarish he couldn't recognize, their eyes burning like coals. 

He never slept peacefully, worsening the state of his mind and seriously under-nourished body. 

As time went on, his thoughts darkened even more. Every time the men dragged him out of his cage, he began to fight back, gripping onto the bars. He then would be yanked away from his cage, which had dislocated his shoulder once. He couldn't remember if it had ever been set back into place. 

Yet another injury dealt to him. 

He wanted to be free of their grip. So he didn't have to feel the pain that never left his body, that had settled into his bones. So he didn't have to see the gazes anymore that had been burned into his memory. But the only way out that he could see was being removed from the equation completely. 

As in, dying. 

He knew it was possible. He had seen others die around him. Their bodies giving out from the trauma they constantly had to endure, or some infection that had been left untreated. Not like their living conditions were even close to ideal. And he doubted the tasteless gruel that he was force fed every day provided him with the necessary nutrients. 

So was it that simple? Simply play around with the dirt for a bit, get it in the multiple cuts he had on his body, and wait for death to claim him? But he couldn't. He had to stay alive. If not for him, for the boy that shared the cage with him. His brother. He couldn't leave his brother to deal with the brutes alone. So he forced himself to stay alive, even if it was insufferable. It gave him something to live for. Some one to live for.