Chains shackled against the cold hard concrete, I was bounded yet again as a war crime. Stripped naked, I was blast with the spotlights hanging all around me. PANG! PANG! PANG! The irregular clangs of metal bars were violent, rambling across my ear drum, conjuring the searing pain across my head.

Just stop. I had to choose to ignore it, or else. “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!? MAKE IT STOP!!” PANG! PANG! It did not stop, I struggled as viciously as possible, trying to tear my limbs apart just to free myself, just to cover up my ears. I crouched awkwardly, pushing my head straight right to the ground.

“JUS…” A bucket of water was splashed unto my pathetic self, I roared in silence as the water was frigid. Two objects were flung into my head, knocking me awake. I lifted up my head, two blocks of breads were placed right in front of me, both were moldy, and almost identical.

Perhaps it’s meal time. But I’m not hungry. I remained in the cocooned position, not attempting to take the food. The spotlight grew even stronger, piercing my subcutaneous layer. “Eat.” a solemn drone. I was reluctant. The shackles strangled my arm harder, as if it was tearing my limbs apart.

“PULL MY LIMBS OFF!” my mind went berserk. A splash of hot water was my reply, I screamed in agony, letting off only the whistles of a boiling kettle. I let loose of myself, stretching myself in order to reach both of the breads. I took a huge bite at both of those blocks of wheat.

I immediately retracted myself to the back of the wall, leaning my spine against the dejected flat surface. Conspiring against my senses, I shut myself out, or rather my body shut itself out. I had no control whatsoever over my body.

The world around me started twirling in wondrous colours, the bright lights were just constellations of the dark, my head was as light as feathers. I saw the brilliance of the view, maybe I just died, I thought.

Hopefully, just to end the agony.

My consciousness darted back to the minute I woke up from the cell.

No. This can’t be happening. Everything repeated itself, clockwork.


Craving for more? Down below:
Art of First Sight

Running Away
Facing Abject Submission
“You Can Do This.”
Zeroed Out

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

9 thoughts on “Treachery

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