Chapter 22 part 2
Samuel
Waking in unfamiliar places had become an obnoxiously regular experience. If he weren't so scared, Samuel probably would've been annoyed by it.
As he was trying to adjust his eyes, still freshly awake, a foot jabbed into his thigh forcefully. He sucked in a sharp breath, but couldn't look up to see who it was.
His whole body felt like sludge, his bones turning to noodles. He tried to lift his arm, but only his fingers twitched.
Someone, the same person who kicked him he assumed, crouched in front of him and lifted his chin with just two fingers. Samuel tried to resist, but was unable.
"He's coming to his senses. Slowly" the man chuckled.
A few more sets of feet walked foreword, growing nearer and nearer to where Samuel was sitting limply.
He opened his eyes as much as he could, but his vision was blurry. No matter how hard he squinted or how wide he opened his eyes, nothing changed.
The man suddenly dropped Samuels chin, letting his head drop back down towards his chest. A rush of pain went down his spine, but faded after only a moment.
He heard multiple different laughs, all directed at him. He knew he was being mocked, but couldn't bring himself to care. All he could really think about was his lack of control over his body and all the pain he was in.
His legs, no doubt, ached the worst. His knees felt like they'd never be able to support his weight ever again and even his hips felt like they were cramping.
A foot softly pressed into his stomach before he realized it was there. He grunted loudly and the wound felt like it was bleeding out, though Samuel knew it wasn't.
He tried to raise an arm to cover his stomach, but failed. He could hear the same people laughing once again.
One of them said something inaudible. Samuels hearing was so muffled, he didn't even try deciphering what they were talking about.
Suddenly, the foot was lifted off of him and another person, whether it was a man or woman he couldn't tell, came to their knees beside him.
They held up a plastic ziplock bag up in front of Samuels face. Inside the bag was an unidentifiable white power.
Samuel glanced at the persons face behind the bag, seeing yellow stained teeth bared at him in a sick smile.
His head pounded in panic, but he could do nothing. He didn't bother trying to stand and the more he tried to raise his arms the more resistance they gave.
Someone handed the person with the bag a water bottle from behind, and the person grabbed it, their smiling growing and becoming more frightening.
They slowly opened the bottle before putting it to their lips. They took a large drink, drinking the water down to the label, before they brought it back down.
Then, with no hesitation, they opened the bag, grabbed a handful of the mysterious powder, and sprinkled it into the bottle.
The amount they added frightened Samuel. He watched in fear as the water turned from clear to a clouded kind of white.
When the person was done they closed the bag, which still had the powder in it, and screwed the cap back onto the water bottle. They shook it up like it was something innocent like lemonade.
When they were done preparing the drink they unscrewed the lid once again and held it mockingly in front of Samuels mouth.
He jerked his head away, ignoring the pain, and closed his eyes tightly.
The person trying to make him drink the water grabbed his face aggressively and jerked his chin downward. His mouth opened slightly and before he knew it the bottle was pressed to his lips and the liquid was pouring into his mouth.
He tried to pull his head away and close his mouth, but the persons hand was strong and held his mouth opened and kept his head still no matter how much he protested.
He started choking in the midst of his panic, but the water only kept on coming. Streams of it poured out of his mouth and went down his neck, while most of it went down his throat all at the same time he was trying to breathe.
Finally, when his lungs started spiking with pain and his eyes had streams of tears spilling out, the bottle was pulled away.
He leaned forward as much as he could, coughing so much he could barely inhale. He spit out all of the liquid that he could, but still ended up swallowing large amounts of it.
When he had finally regained his ability to breathe and he stopped heaving, he realized the crowd that had gathered.
There were at least twenty people forming a semicircle around him and there must've been at least double that behind them. They were pushing at one another, trying to get a better view.
And they were laughing. Every last one of them. Some went red in the face and others were doubled over or crouched down, holding their stomachs.
Samuel felt like he could vomit just at the sound.
It didn't sound sinister though. If you could take away all the people shouting disgusting words and cruel comments then it would actually seem innocent.
Their laughs were genuine. It wasn't hard to see how actually amused they were. It was like they were at a comedy show and the comedian had just told the joke that ended off the night.
He wasn't here because he was the hero, and they envied him. He wasn't here because they had some kind of grudge against him. No, he was here for their own entertainment. They had no use for him other than getting a good laugh.
He coughed again, his throat felling like it was bleeding.
After multiple minutes, the laughing never died down. He eventually learned to stop looking up at them, not to make eye contact.
Seeing his eyes only made them laugh more. He could only imagine how pathetic he looked, beaten up and filthy.
Finally, when he managed to keep his gaze at the ground for long enough, the laughs stopped and it became quiet.
By then his head had begun to feel heavy. His neck could barely hold it up and even breathing became a difficult task.
He opened his eyes wider, only for his vision to get worse. His eyes became wet and glossy. He felt like his mouth was both too dry and flooded with saliva at the same time.
The feeling was awful. He knew he was losing every last bit of control of his body, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He became unusually tired. A level of tired he had only felt a small number of times– all within the last few months.
His head continued to pound and his muscles continued to fail. He swore he felt his bones turning to sludge, a liquid flowing through his body along with his blood.
He managed to tilt his head up slightly, almost no movement even happening.
It was enough though.
His eyes scanned over the area around him. The crowd had disappeared and there were only a few people still remaining, none of which were paying any attention to him.
He was so distracted he hadn't even noticed how quiet it had became.
The stillness in the air relaxed him. He knew it granted him no safety. He knew that it didn't change his situation. But still, it granted him a sliver, only a bit, of hope.
And with that hope, his calmness, he drifted off. His mind wandering into a complete darkness.
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Merry Christmas Eve!! 🎄🎄