Guilted: Wars Against The Past (Editing)

N i n e

P

ain.

Pain was all he felt.

What's worse was that he did not only feel the pain of now, he felt the pain of then.

The past and the present fused with one another, making it infinite time worse.

He was traumatized by actual and explicit physical pain.

He felt his sweat trickle down, his blood dripping from all over his face and body and pain afflicting him from all within the nerves.

He squeezed opened his eyes, his vison was blurred and with all the little vision he had, he took in his surroundings.

Hell, he was in hell.

That was why he was drenching in sweat. But why did not he burn already?

Wasn't fire supposed to burn you to ashes? Then why wasn't he burned or dead already?

Was this really hell?

Ugh, what was wrong with his mind? Why couldn't he analyze things just yet?

He forced his eyes to open again, while pain was shooting him to death.

Still, nothing. What? Why couldn't he recognize things?

Hurt. Everything hurt.

Like before, he was going through the same old cycle of life.

Dammit!

He tried clearing out his vision by squeezing his eyes shut and open. Suddenly, he took in the surroundings.

Dull, yellowish-green light emitted through everywhere and the pungent smell of dirt and blood hit his nostrils.

He cringed in disgust.

Ah! He knew exactly where he was.

The basement. The darkest hole of the town.

And it wasn't just any basement. It was the prison's basement. And it was his basement.

The devil's basement.

The anesthesia was slowly cutting him loose, its effects fading off his system making him gain more and more of his consciousness.

He felt the sharp steel around his wrist, as he tried to break free from them.

Damn, he was cuffed!

And so were his legs.

Ugh, the devil actually knew him all well!

He sighed.

And within a lightning he felt the strike of a similar yet new sting on his chest.

It had hit harder than ever.

Oh, my guilt, and so you are back to your nest.

Why did you fly away?

Guilt was his dearest.

His senses awoke a little more when he heard footsteps approaching him. His head was dipped low towards the ground, his arms and hands were not in contact with his nerves, and he felt his legs numb.

How much of anesthesia did they injected him?

The only organs that were connected to his soul were his heart and mind.

His mind was in a web, ventilating his surroundings while his heart beat steadily.

He had his cool.