Chapter Text
it feels bad. like he’s one of those mastodons trapped in tar. dried blood plastered onto every inch of his body, tacky and peeling but never scraping off. it glues his clothes to his skin, kevlar vest sloshing with absorbed fluids. bulletproof, yes, waterproof, kinda, bloodproof, no. it burns when he tries to move, unexplainable pain as it digs into his pores and pulls at his hair, cementing his body onto the lonely floor of the void.
there shouldn't even be a floor to the void. there shouldn't even be a him to cement there, not after what happened.
his teeth ache. it’s like he ate too much sugar, and it gnawed away at his teeth, stopping just before the raw nerve, the thinnest wall of dentine left between the sucrose and the pulp.
his mouth is dry, despite the blood.
his eyes open at some point, heavy from exhaustion, and the little he can see is tinted a dark red, outstretched fingers stuck to the ground with it. it feels like there’s a bubble of air somewhere inside of his broken body, pressing the meat outwards and pushing the blood through the cracks. something sticky inside of him, nudging outwards with every agonizing breath.
it burns. hurts like nothing ever has before. he has to get up.
more than blood pinning him to the ground. something else, sticking him downwards like a mouse in a trap. guilt, fear, loneliness, the knowledge that if closes his eyes he’ll never open them again.
the skin on his palm tears as he pushes upwards. knees cry out with sharp aches when he bends them, loosening both the muscles and the connection pinning him down. his forearms, free. the tips of his toes aided by his boots pull the bottom half of him off the ground. chin, loose. if he had any stubble before he doesn’t now.
his stomach is the worst part.
blood soaked into his vest, his shirt, his skin. none of it loosening easily. he grits his teeth, and doesn’t close his eyes.
up, up, up. slowly. chapped palms digging their butts onto the ground, burning and scraping his knees and scratching at the ground with his feet. checkered spots flash in his vision. a scream behind his bared teeth.
up. he’s up. his stomach is wet, feeling strange and pulling funny at the edges. something’s wrong again. too much wetness for how much had dried on him already. a pinching feeling at his seams. it’s tearing him open. gotta keep moving.
he takes one step, then another. moping through the empty void, away from the red bloom. into the darkness. his legs feel numb. he can’t close his eyes.
walk, walk, walk. there’s no end. he’s not sure why he thought there was. he’s not sure why he isn’t dead yet.
feet starting to drag now. running out of energy, the last he could pry out of himself. wetness on his dry hands.
he tries not to close his eyes.
he’s on his knees, again. unfortunate. he thought he could do it, but the blood is starting to flow harder, sticking to his hands and his waist and spilling silently out of him.
it’s so hard not to close his eyes.
hands on the ground. trying to keep the rest of him up, awake. it runs down the side of his stomach in rivulets.
what was that noise?
head swimming. harder to tell how he’s sitting now. whole body dizzy, shaking.
was that a…?
hot, staggering breaths. he doesn’t think he was breathing before.
it’s getting warmer. sticking to his thighs, his ankles, seeping into his shoes, but the warmth is like sun on his face.
sun…
sniffing, not his. further away, then closer, closer, until it’s right by his ear. he can’t look up. he’s trying so hard to keep his eyes open, but they’re half-closed and drooping. he doesn’t have much longer.
bright fur in his blurry vision, golden white like the tips of wheat grains. barking. hi, doggy.
a tail thwacks dully against his numbing sides, paws becoming soaked in red below him. he tries to push away. go back, doggy, this place isn’t for you.
she pushes back. no, she thinks, not letting you go.
he teeters. she pushes harder.
he slips forwards, grip loose on her fur. slick hands leaving bloody handprints on her back. she carries him anyway, despite the fading grip. away from the edge of the void, she runs, target hanging loosely on her back. she’s faster than any other dog in the world. she runs no risk of death.
the portal, golden-white, glowing light. his eyes could barely be considered open. hers are as wide as they’ve ever been. he tries to let go. she pulls him through.
the last thing he sees are the pink and red bloodstains covering her fur.