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Trapped
Who is this man? Why does he insist on crying? I'm not doing anything to him. Not yet, anyway. I look down. I see my arm, I seem my hand connected to my arm, I see my hand grasping something. What is that? I don't know. I wish I did. Where am I? I look around. I have no clue. Who am I? Do I know? I think I do but one can never be sure. I look down at the man. My enemy? My friend? He whimpers, I smile. Why did that make me smile? We must be enemies.
I take something from my pocket. I put it into the object in my hand. Click. The man whimpers again. What a coward. Where am I? I look around again. Nothing. Trees? Are those trees in the distance? So beautiful. He whimpers again. Where? How? Why? When? These are the questions. When did I get here? When will I leave? Will I leave? He won't. Why am I here? How? How am I here? Who? Yes that's the most important one. Who am I? Who is he?
I look up. The sky. I look down. Hell. Do I know what hell is? No. I don't think that I do. His eyes, they look like hell. I stop. Stop doing what? I stop and and rest my arm. It aches. The man seems to be bleeding. Blood? Is that it? Is that the word? Blood. Yes. Sounds good. Sounds right.
My hand seems to be bleeding blood. No pain. Do I feel pain? Have I ever felt pain? No. More whimpers. More crying. More pain. Not mine of course. Never mine. Never my pain. My arm feels better now. Rested. Strong. I change hands anyway. The object is quite heavy. Object . . . the man seems to be bleeding again. Fresh blood. Nice blood. I look up. Something hits me.
Water? Is that it? Water? It comes down and washes the whimpers away. I can't hear him now. Him? Who is he? All I hear is the water. The . .. fall of water. I step backwards. A few steps. Just a few. I look at the man. Blood. A mound of blood and crying and water and tears. A spectacle of mystery and pain.
Envy. Envy? That's it. That's his name. I know now. That's why he's here. He's Envy. I'm . . . who am I? Justice. Is that my name? Justice. I think back. A blur. My vision. The water. The man. Where is he? Who is he? Where did he go?
I can feel pain. It hurts. Does it? Is this hurt? I lay down. The green below me is wet. Grass? The feeling of pain spreads. A jolt of it in my stomach. Again. Again. Breathing over the rain. My breathing? Is that my voice? Again. Stop. Please. I look down. I see my arm, I see my hand connected to my arm, I see my hand grasping nothing. Pain. Envy. Is that his name? Or is it mine? I might be Envy. He might be Justice.
Blood. Fresh blood. His. My pain still hurts. I look down. Hell. I don't know what hell is. Now I do. My body. His face. Hell. The object. I look down. I see my arm, I see my hand connected to my arm, I see my hand grasping something. He whimpers yet again. No. This one's different. Not just pain. Anger? Is that what this is? Am I feeling? Anger. Anger. Anger. It sounds good. It sounds right. Blood. More blood. The anger and blood feel good in my hands. Anger. He whimpers. Blood. He whimpers. Anger. Blood. Anger. Blood. He can’t whimper anymore.
He lies on the wet green. He . . . who is he? Envy? Justice? Blood? His body. Clothes? Blue clothes. Shiny gold. I look down. I see my arm, I see my hand connected to my arm, I see my hand grasping something. Click. Click. Click. He smiles. He moves. I step backwards. I look into the sky. He speaks. I speak. Blood. Anger. Blood. He . . . no. I whimper. Anger. Blood. Anger. Again I hear myself. Cowardly. Blood. The object. He . . . who is he? He reaches into his pocket. I step forward. Blood. Anger. He puts something into the object. I scream. Why? What is that? I jump for it. Click. He curses. Blood. Anger. Blood.
He fiddles with it. I lay down. I stare at the sky. Empty. Blood. Blood. Blood. I try to whimper. Anger. Anger. Anger. Heaven? What is that? Do I know that? Blood. Blood. Blood.
Nothing.
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Originally Posted by 32rosie
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