Nov. 3, 2012, 5:05 a.m.
The Pawn: Chapter 3
M - Words: 801 - Last Updated: Nov 03, 2012 Story: Complete - Chapters: 15/15 - Created: Nov 02, 2012 - Updated: Nov 03, 2012 287 0 1 0 0
Quivering, trying to stay awake. He feels every lump the car drives over, every movement of the car, stabbing him over and over, increasing his pain. At every breath he takes, when his chest lifts up to let the fresh air explore his lungs, his wounds scream for help. To stop moving, to stop breathing is a desire he knows he might be close to. His eyes want to close and fade away into a world far much more calm than here. His mind wants to erase everything he has witnessed. To never see the blood streaming from the dead body that once was his best friend.
Time passes, but doesn't seem relevant. The men, sitting next to him don't seem to pay any attention to the man laying down, twitching his body with pain as his clothes become more drenched with blood.
The floor of the van feels cold to the touch of his fingers. It's the only thing in his body that isn't aching with pain. He wants to concentrate at the cool surface, calming his fingertips. To let his body drift away with the calm sensation caused by the cool metallic floor.
Closing his eyes, trying to focus on the cold floor, letting everything disappear. Slowly, the voices in the van drift off, becoming even less and less understandable than they already were. The coolness of the floor takes over the pain. The cold takes over the burning and takes his body somewhere else. Somewhere where there is no pain, or at least doesn’t seem to be pain.
He drifts off, leaving his pain, Rachel and everything else behind.
*
Dreaming doesn't hide reality, it makes reality worse. Glorifying everything.
Slowly, Kurt's dreaming gets worse. Instead of floating along, he sinks, closer and closer to the ground. Until he hits it. Pain, he hasn't felt for long hits him again. He tries to move, but his body doesn't react.
It takes him some time before he realizes he isn't moving. The floor still feels cold, but it isn't the same texture as the metal floor from the van. It is smooth as the metal floor, but doesn't have the ability to take away the warmth of a touch.
“Where am I?” Kurt wonders. Fighting the will of his eyes, he opens them.
The room he lies in is dark except for one little bulb that flickers in the darkness. Concrete walls and a concrete floor are all that separates him from the outside world. Those walls and that floor are all that keep him from his freedom. Still, it seems that so much more is keeping him away.
A few blankets in the corner, a flickering bulb and his own mind are his world now.
For minutes, or something that felt like minutes, he stares at the wall, still lying half on his side, half on his belly. His mind is quite. All he hears is the beating of his heart and the air getting trapped in his lungs.
Then, something hits him back to reality, back to life. Outside of his walls he hears voices, arguing about something he can’t understand. The arguing voices don’t interest him, but having that kind of knock out of his own mind was nice in a strange way. The dreaming was gone now, and Kurt was back to reality.
He tries to turn his body and finally feels the control of his movements. With his hand, he gently touches the most painful parts of his abdomen. The strong, bright sting of a bruise follows short after. The pain has become less, without a doubt, but Kurt is sure that his body is covered in blue spots, marking the places the men violently touched him.
It makes him sick. Not the pain, but the fact that men, he had never met, attacked him. And for what reason? A reason Kurt might never know.
Suddenly, a flash of chills starts from his back travelling all over his body.
He turns his head over to the little stack of blankets in the corner. Still laying down, he tries to reach for them. His body remains still, but his right arm can barely reach the blankets. Being too weak to be able to stand, Kurt stretches just a little more, giving him the possibility to grab the woolen blankets.
There are some holes and the blankets itch at the touch of his skin, but nevertheless wraps himself as good as he can in his state. Only to let the tiredness win from him as he falls into the world of dreams again.
Comments
sadness. T_T Now what the heck do they need Kurtie for? Hmmm