Pain And Confusion.
Disclaimer. . . . . . . Characters belong to Kripkie, plotline all mine.
A.N. . . . . . . Right, some of you may have read this under another name as I haven't been able to get my site to do anything for me recently. If you did, I'm sorry for the confusion, and I thank you for reading again. Will catch you later, Peanut x
Taking another step forward, he drew in a ragged deep breath, feeling the icy tendrils as they scorched their way down past his arid throat and into his starved lungs. He regretted the action immediately as the resulting expansion set off a chain of hurt that left him gasping to draw in air again as a coughing fit consumed him. He blinked away tears that blurred his already damaged vision as he fought vainly to gain back control, desperate now to stop the agony that ripped through his body. He grasped lamely onto a tree for support as his weakened body, eager to take him back into the darkness and the comfort it found there, battled against his mind which was determined to keep him awake, feeling as though this was the only way to save him.
He cried out in anguish, as a particularly deep cough took hold and he felt piercing hot stabs of pain radiate from deep within him as bones moved and ground against organs, alarm bells ringing inside his head as crimson saliva spattered from his mouth to stain the whiteness that covered the ground, causing him to panic all the more and setting off a chain that looped constantly. He struggled to get breath, he coughed, he felt pain; and so it continued like a record on a turntable, going round and round and round. He knew he had to gain control, that he had to move, but he just couldn't find the energy, the will to do so.
He berated himself, cussed himself out in an effort to goad himself to just take that one step further, knowing that if he could he would stubbornly keep going forward, and forward he knew was where he needed to be. Something was pulling him that way, a niggling feeling that flowed gently beneath the surface, but just wouldn't break through and let him know exactly what was so important, so critical that he needed to push through the pain to get to it, but push he did, somehow finding that second burst of strength to grasp a back hold of control, to ride through the pain that threatened to tear him apart, to take that next step.
Still using, with a grip that was gradually getting weaker and weaker, the trees for leverage he began the slow trek forward, his other hand rubbing away the blood, sweat and tears that congregated in his eyes, before gingerly prodding at the gash that rent it's way from the edge of his eyebrow to deep within his hairline; a goose egg growing in size beneath the jagged cut. He stopped his probing as even the faintest of touches set off crescendos of discomfort within his battered brain, the pain it caused fighting to be the winner against all his other aches.
As he walked he tried to assess his broken body, tried to guess what part was hurt the worst, anything to take his mind off the cruel agony walking was becoming, but it was all in vain. From his toenails to the tips of his hair, every single inch of his body seemed to scream out in protest at every movement he made. He knew that he had broken bones, some toes, a few ribs, possibly a couple of fingers; he thought he could add his ankle to that list, but as he carried on moving forward and although agonizing, it kept working, keeping his weight, he removed it from the list realizing that he had sprained or twisted the limb.
He had another gash that was evident from the tear in his jeans, and another that graced his side, both still oozing blood that had begun to crystallize on his clothes due to the gradually increasingly freezing temperature, that thought registering yet another ailment to add to his burgeoning list; he had a fever, something that he had failed to notice as the bitingly frigid air chilled him to his very core. The resulting shivers adding to the torture walking was putting his body through, and hiding the fact that he was burning up. He hoped that the searing heat that ravaged through him was just from the fact that his body craved rest, yet he knew he was being naïve, that something was infected, and that thought sent even more waves of apprehension rushing through him.
As he tripped and sent another cycle of pain crashing around his frame, causing bile to rush up into his throat and his equilibrium to falter, he realized yet one more ailment, concussion. He didn't know how he knew but he knew it wasn't the first he had ever had, knew that this was going to be something he would feel for days, maybe weeks to come. He stopped walking as he spat the vicious fluid, that had congregated within his mouth out, all injuries, all aches pushed to the back of his mind as something more serious pushed it's way to the forefront.
Where was he?
What the hell had happened here?
And more importantly, who was he?
To Be Continued. . . . . .
Thanks for reading!