Nothing. That is all he has now. Nothing.
In this small cramped space, he was left in. In it is all that was left for him in this life. Nothing.
It is cold. So cold. This is a blessing for him. He can't remember the last time he felt a genuine shiver.
It is more than cold in this small space of nothing. It is dark. Oh so dark. Even if he kept his eyes closed it wouldn't be that different.
It is just him in this small, cold confinement. Nothing is his only company. Nothing is all he has.
He can work with nothing. He's made a lot of progress with much less.
Flexing his digits alone is both a heavy task and a huge thrill. It has been so long since he's felt so….alive.
The first strike against the roof of his confinement comes with a sting of pain. It doesn't phase him at all. He's had worse. Much, much, much worse….
Another hit against the firm wall and the material begins to crack. Another hit and he can feel the earth seep through and cover his face. His fist hurts a lot more but this is still nothing compared to what he's had to persevere.
Another hit and his fist feel oily and warm. He's not concerned, he is more than prepared to lose a lot more than blood when finally free from his incarceration.
One last hit and his imprisonment filled with loose filth. He swims through the filth that's drowning him and keeps punching the wall until the opening is big enough.
Reaching the beaten fist into the elements for something to grip onto he only feels the more loose earth. Despite his strength returning by the second, it feels so heavy. He must push through this weight and snuff out this newfound weakness in him. No weight no matter how heavy or demeaning should hinder him. That was the first and most important lesson.
Pushing his weakened body through the small orifice, the man already felt like a prisoner who escaped his cell. Now he just has to escape the penitentiary.
Pushing his torso through the small hole, he felt the broken edges scrape and cut deep into his flesh. It hurt a lot and despite the dirty atmosphere reaching into his lacerations, he couldn't care less. Every type of pain is just another obstacle for him to overcome, and for every obstacle he beats, big or small, he will become stronger. That is the second lesson.
He wasn't just taught this, he learned this from the many obstacles he bested to get this far. Each one looked more impossible to overcome than the previous, but he always found a way to do the impossible. These huge slashes into his flesh might as well be small nicks.
Powering through the pain, he stretched out his other arm. He was resting on it for so long that it went to sleep. Good, he can use that.
Forcing his numb limb through the jagged opening he was able to overcome the pain more easily. In the process, his arm regained feeling from the adrenaline pumping through the man's system. Now both of his arms are free and awake. Just like he is.
The man hacked and slashed into the thick atmosphere that was pushing down on him. Each swipe he pushes through the dirty air he pushes his body more out of his confinement. It was dark, dirty, and even more cramped. He is not complaining. It is still a luxury compared to where he just was.
It still felt like ages passed before he felt the overbearing air loosened. He is close to freedom. All the more reason to not slow down.
He slashed into the thick darkness faster. He was never going to stop or slow down in the first place, he is too motivated to give up. Hell, he's only given up on one thing in his existence, but that was long ago before all of this happened. So long it felt another lifetime. It was another lifetime. But he remembers that day more than he remembers how to breathe. That day is his motivation for all of this.
The weight pushing down on him became very light now. He kept slashing until he touched what felt like a flexible membrane. He's reached the final barrier to his confinement.
The man scratched and picked at the stretchy sheath until he finally made a hole big enough to fit a finger through. He punctured a digit into the surface and felt it breach the other side. He felt nothing but empty air.
Nothing. He can work with that.
The digit sank back into the membrane before a large bulge grew from within. The bulge kept growing until it receded back to normal size only to immediately grow again, only this time bigger. It shrank again and it grew larger once more before the flexible membrane met its match with the large fist breaking through and with it a long arm.
Like a needle breaking through a dermis into a vein, the arm damaged the surface. The arm rescinded back into the darkness only to bring another. Both limbs flailed around for something to grip only to sink back down again.
The man pushed his body more in frustration. His hands broke through again. This time however before he could sink he finally found something to grip, the outer membrane. It wasn't ideal, the exterior was weak from all the abuse he did to the interior and it kept ripping apart every time he tried to hold onto it. It will have to make do.
With another powerful thrust of his body, the man reached as far as he could and finally found a surface of the membrane that wasn't weak. He pulled on his own weight and started to feel the membrane loosen again and acted quickly by lashing his free arm out and slamming it into the surface. He violently scratched and dug his fingers into the abused barrier. They dug deep enough for him to finally get a proper grip. Now all he has to do is pull.
He pulled his weight with all the might his aching body had left in it. Everything in his body was screaming to let go and rest, but he beat those thoughts into submission and expelled them from his mindset. He forbid himself to ever think of doubt or wish for a break again. Doubt breeds weakness, weakness breeds failure, and failure will never be an option for him.
Pulling himself out, his head finally basking in the open air, he exhaled a massive and loud gasp before hyperventilating in all that clean air. Just taking in all that nice oxygen. It felt so good to breathe in a full breath.
Returning to his senses he pulled more of himself out of the opening. His entire body shaking from so much fatigue, he fell to the ground. He kept coughing up so much of that heavy atmosphere he just broke free of. He lay there with his body dirty and full of deep wounds. The grass felt so soft. He can't remember the last time he ever felt something so nice. But that will have to wait.
Taking in a deep breath, he struggled to regain his stance. He slipped on his first try. The fall pissed him off. The rage-fueled adrenaline kicked into overdrive as he powered through the pain and stood up, took in another deep breath, and bellowed a ghastly roar.
He's overcome another obstacle. Now the world will know that he has returned.
Upon standing up he noticed it was dark, nighttime. More so, he started to feel a new sensation. Wetness.
He was startled at first but finally recognized this phenomenon. Rain. His other senses were returning now that the raging rush he just had was dying down. He also noticed how cold it was, more so he knew why he felt so cold. He was naked as the day he was born.
A normal person would feel exposed and embarrassed. But to say he is far from the average man would be a massive understatement.
He turned around to see his broken cell. The door had a name on it. His name. His old name.
The man also saw he had neighbors on either side of his cell. Their doors were larger than his. For a second, he wondered who these two people are before suddenly putting the pieces together.
It is…them.
Despite all the unearthly agonies he suffered, despite doing the impossible, despite all the pain he overcame he couldn't help himself. He broke his code and gave into his emotions for the first time in so long.
He dropped to his knees and began to crawl to the doors. He placed a hand on either door and began to cry. All three of them were together all this time. He felt a heavy weight of worry and grief fall off his shoulders.
All these emotions of happiness he hasn't felt in so long! But they were short-lived as he tilted his head to read their names only to find both doors were blank.
Not wanting to leave them nameless, he stretched a bloody finger out to write their names but stopped midway when he came to a horrifying realization.
He can't remember their names.
What god is so cruel that one would allow such a thing to happen?
The man began to cry again, harder than before. Much harder. There doesn't exist any torture in this world or the next that could match what he was feeling now.
Hasn't he been through enough? Haven't all three of them suffered enough?
What was once a proud escapee is now a shell of a man mourning for his loved ones. He gripped the loose dirt in front of the nameless prison doors. He brought two fistfuls to his weeping face and leaned into the soil. Basking in what was left of the two people he cared for.
Breathing in the dirt, he transitioned from a state of true sadness to sheer bloodthirst rage. He swore to get justice for all three of them. He swore to make the man who did this to them suffer a fate worse than anyone be it man, animal, god, or demon could imagine.
The distraught survivor huffed in another breath of their dirt before using the soil to cover his wounds. They will join him on this journey for vengeance.
The man stood up again his fists tightened as the dirt seeped through his fingers. He let the rain wash away all the transmission filth his body was covered in before turning around and looked at the world that sickened him to his core.
He will rip this world asunder…..
A/N: First story! Please review. Criticism is more than welcomed.