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Cold.
The absence of warmth and the luxury of feeling one's appendages with such ease.
Cold was my new reality, all I felt was the decreased temperature gradually numbing any feeling of discomfort, really any feeling for that matter, from the countless hours of brutally depraved torture, or rather what they humorously referred to it as, training. However, I enjoyed the cold far more than the crippling guilt riddling my aching bones following every mission I was blindly sent on. No reason or moral, just another chip on the block of victims, another slash of red in my ledger, they were no longer people as soon as an assignment was given; they became its, they became just another mission, just another soulless lump of flesh wasting space upon this godforsaken planet.
There I sat, alone, atop the frigid concrete surface, tucked away in the ominous darkness of the dull corner of my cell moistened by the repetitive drips of tap water spilling from the rusty pipes just above my head. Being alone wasn't all that bad, no, not at all when considering the only people I ever came in contact with made my life a living hell; it was being alone with my twisted thoughts that ate me alive head to toe, consuming every firing neuron and pathway woven into my overstimulated brain simply trying to remember what my life used to be like. In correlation, the very term woven always seemed to peak my curiosity when concerning the intricate details of one's brain, in fact, I often wondered what a woven tapestry of mine would look like. However, it was a dangerous notion to imagine, for all I could picture was oozing red. Then again, would my past self's portrait be similar? I couldn't muster enough memory to convince myself otherwise; however, I'd like to imagine an image of something softer, gentler and far more aesthetic to the naked eye.
Allowing my limp head, atop my aching neck riddled with fresh and tender bruises a vibrant violet and crimson hue, to helplessly fall in a sluggish backwards motion against the cylinder walls wreaking the same putrid odor of both mildew and wet dog that drenched the rest of this damned facility. As my throbbing head felt the cold, unforgiving touch of my surroundings, my body concurrently convulsed from the bitter wave of ice coursing through my veins desperate to feel the warmth of the sun atop my porcelain skin. Not even realizing my numbed limbs were shivering until my hazy peripheral vision noticed the scattered pools of nearly frozen water rippling beneath my motions.
"Knock knock." A tantalizing voice spoke in a deviously cheerful tone as his calloused fingers brushed across the enhanced steels bars emitting a faint gong like sound when coming in contact with his finger tips.
"P-please just put me back in f-fucking cryo you asshole." I muttered with any ounce of strength left inside my barren lungs, making sure to annunciate the last word as my sore eyes pried themselves open only to wish they hadn't as even the most minimal exposure to light felt of hell's raging flames. Although the last thing I wanted to do was admit weakness or accept sure defeat, I simply had no fight left within my bones, there was no longer a ubiquitous spark igniting flames of resilience; they actually accomplished impossible, the broke me.
