POV: Kathryn Taylor – Human – Original Character (I Invented Her)
I continued to thrash wildly like a fish out of water. At long last, my consciousness had returned, but the pain was still burning me alive. My arm slammed into the wall with great force, but I could hardly feel the soreness that should have followed. The internal flames overshadowed it, extinguished it, and I felt only the burning as it tortured every corner of my being.
It seemed as if eternity had passed. The blood that had previously been dripping from my neck was dry, and every ounce of strength in my body was fading from the exhaustion created by my continuous writhing.
I should be dead by now.
But I'm not.
Somehow, normal people, people that want to live as long as possible, they're the people that death finds, the ones that reach their ends far before they intended. But as for me, as I was assaulted by unexplained torment that refused to cease, death hid, avoided me, laughed while I thrashed and shook and begged it to come. Death finds those that flee it, but evades those that seek it. Surely that should not be.
Let me die, I thought. I only want to die. Is that too much to ask?
Suddenly, I heard a rush of wind, and quick, sharp footsteps, gradually growing louder and louder as they approached. I saw a white blur, like a ghost, materialize in front of me. Then it solidified, no longer a mysterious apparition, and I realized that it was a pale man. I'd seen him somewhere before, but somehow, I couldn't place it. I couldn't even think straight, my mind was so overloaded with the blazing anguish. I simply stared at the man for a moment, and then I remembered. I had seen him before. The dark uniform, the brown hair, the large muscles, the pale skin…
It was the guard.
The guard that had attacked me.
More than anything, I wanted him to kill me, to put me out of my misery, but I had a bad feeling that he had other plans. He had probably come to torture me even more. I tried to stagger away from him, terrified, but my legs refused to work. They felt rooted in place, like stone, and I couldn't find the strength to move.
"Don't hurt me!" I tried to scream. "Just kill me! I only want to die. Kill me!" But my voice cracked, and it got strangled in my throat, coming out like a fearful whimper, a pitiful squeak. Somehow, I could hardly breathe, let alone scream. I could only whimper.
The guard stared at me for a moment with bloodshot eyes full of a million different emotions. He looked almost… undecided… as if he was trying to decide what to do with me.
"Kill… me," I begged. "Please… just… kill… me."
I hoped, maybe I am dreaming. It was a long shot, but this was all so… surreal… that it had to be a dream. I closed my eyes and hoped that, when I opened them, I would be back with my parents on a typical vacation in Italy in a warm, safe hotel room with the burning pain long gone.
But I wasn't dreaming.
I opened my eyes to the same horrific scene, with the same pair of vivid red irises scrutinizing me. "Kill me," I squeaked again. "Kill me."
I closed my eyes a second time, trying to shut out my terrifying, painful reality, hoping that, eventually, I would die…