Geno had always hated the Save Screen. Well, of course he hadn't been here forever, though it sure as hell felt like it. Time was never clear. It could have felt like it'd been twelve years in the save screen, when in reality it had been twelve minutes. Since the moment he wound up here, he'd hated every minute of it. Who wouldn't? Being trapped in a black, empty, endless void wouldn't be a holiday for anybody who found themselves captive there. To top it off, the one person who had found himself here was sporting a gorey, fresh wound across his chest, forever to stay opened and bleeding. Every moment he breathed his bones rattled, blood dripping from his broken body in pained rhythms. There was an option to keep from breathing, but that only resulted in uncomfortable tightness and pressure for Geno. He'd tried to kill himself thousands of times this way, from suffocating himself. Holding his breath, keeping his hands over his nose and mouth. Nothing. Death never came to this void to claim what should have already been dead. And Geno was sick of it. He couldn't stand being in here for any longer. But what could he do? He could scream and shout, cry for somebody to help him, maybe even try to destroy himself again to be rid of this sickly reality. He could try, but he knew fully well that the only result he would have been met with was dissapointment, and maybe a sore throat. So, all the skeleton did now was sit. He would sit in his own puddle of blood, the stream endlessly pouring like a faucet of red water. Sometimes he would cry, cry so hard, desperate for something other than the void to hear him.
The void never replied.
So, he stayed relatively quiet, most of the time. He couldn't tell if his voice even worked anymore. He was too tired to even try. So, he sat, waiting. Waiting..
Until the void replied.
