My heart hammers in my chest. Fire trails down my spine. My shoulders contort, my back stretches, my face breaks...
I fight him. I struggle. I rage.
And still I am being taken.
My sight fades. The sharp tang of blood is an endless. The world around me is nothing but the black of my own insanity and I am dying.
It mocks me. I cry at it, cry my anger, my sadness, my pain, and it hangs listlessly in the sky, suspended by heartstrings and I know I want nothing more than to cut them and take it from it's sparkling home in the sky and hold it out to my brother and say, “You see? You see what this had made me become?”
And then running. Running and running and running and, then, red.