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Chapter Three – The Pain

Edward could not take the pain anymore. He couldn't understand how he was still alive when his body had obviously suffered some serious injuries for him to feel as he did. His leg and arm felt like they had been ripped clean off all over again and if that were the case – and he was starting to believe it to be true – he had to have lost a lot of blood. Too much to still be alive. There was other pain, too, but he was too focused on his arm and leg to discern anything else.

He couldn't see anything. After the initial shock of the bright light, a blindfold had been roughly tied around his head, effectively blinding him. He wondered who was there because he could hear someone or something moving around the room when he was able to stop thinking about the pain for a moment. He had spent some time screaming, yelling useless threats and obscenities, until his voice was hoarse and he had exhausted himself. He had no idea what was going on but he was terrified. He was going to die. He was dying. He could feel it, his life slipping away from him while he hung there, unable to see or even move.

After trying to struggle free for almost the hundredth time, he let his body fall slack and shuddered in pain. A choked sob escaped his throat before he wailed, hopeless and pathetic, shaking in his binds. Whoever or whatever was behind this wasn't going to let him go. It was pointless for him to waste his energy. He had to bide his time and figure out how to escape. Unless he died first.

His throat ached and his mouth was so dry, it was almost as unbearable as the pain he felt in his arm and leg. There was no way for him to know how much time had passed, but he was exhausted. His pain was too great for him to even consider sleeping, but he wondered how much longer his body and mind would last before he passed out.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise – a door closing, he gathered – followed by complete silence, only broken by his shaky breaths. Whoever or whatever had been in the room with him was now gone. Even though he'd been terrified of what they were going to do with him, he felt even more frightened alone in the room. Whatever was going to happen to him, he wished it would happen already because the not knowing and the wondering was driving him insane.

What did they want? What did they plan on doing to him? Did they plan to leave him there, hanging and bleeding – because he knew he was bleeding, he could feel it, now, as he had slowly adjusted to the pain – until he gradually faded away into nothing? Were they planning on releasing him at some point, or did they intend to keep him there, even if he did not parish? If that were their plan, and that was what he was most worried about, he couldn't help contemplating what else they intended to do, how else they planned to make him suffer.

Where was Alphonse? He had been trying to avoid that thought because he didn't want to think of his brother suffering as he was, or worse. Al obviously couldn't feel proper human pain, but it wasn't impossible to make him feel emotional turmoil. It wouldn't be too difficult to hurt him, to kill him if someone or something were inclined to puncture the blood seal in the armor. Edward had to believe that Alphonse was still alive and that he was okay because he was sure he'd know if something was wrong, he'd have to know. If something happened to Al, Ed wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive himself.

He decided that he'd have to deal with the agony he was in. He would have to suck it up and bear it because he had to get out of the situation alive. There were things he had to do, promises he had to keep, and he wasn't going to let pain get in the way of everything he still had left to accomplish. He refused to die, not like that, and promised himself that he'd take whatever they threw at him and figure out a way to get free. He had to. There were too many people counting on him for him to give up for something as trivial as pain.