Billy
This time I had to run. This time there was no water. This time, there was fire.
Last time, after the water, I was taken to my cell. Dripping wet and with a killer headache, ears popped and bleeding. Quite some time passed. Then I was taken to a lab. They really liked their electricity, I guess, because I was strapped down and electrocuted for what felt like hours. When everything blacked out, I was relieved. Well, as relieved as you can be when unconscious. But when I woke up, they were there.
I held it, held it, held it. It wasn't as hard as the water, but it was still hard. You see, this time I had to run. And it's not like it was a sphere around me I could run in, like the huge one they have me run in sometimes. No, I have to keep it in a half sphere around me, so my feet can stay touching the ground. Then I have to run.
Did I mention it was really hard to see inside my fields? It's clear, but it's hazy. If that makes any sense.
Anyways, they had me run. They threw fire at me. I broke out in sweat again, but, like I said, it was easier than being underwater.
So I was able to go a longer time.
I ran the track three times before the first ball of fire didn't bounce off. It more hit, and then went through. My fields can break two ways. Like glass, or like they are a bubble. Not pop like a bubble, but like things can go inside without breaking it type of bubble. It got too thin, and the fire got in.
I know. I should be a poet.
I hate fire. It hurts. Not as bad as cuts hurt, but it is up there.
My hands wind milled frantically, and I tried to make the shield stronger, really I did. But it was too much. I'm not the strongest person, if you haven't noticed. So I did the only sensible thing.
I dropped my shield, the pieces raining down on me, and ran like the hounds of hell were on me. Or the fires of hell, I guess. I wasn't fast enough, of course, but I was able to get at least ten feet.
A new record. I'll have to remember that.
The fire burned through my clothes, hitting my skin and sizzling. I screamed, (don't worry, it was a manly scream,) and fell to the ground.
They ran out and sprayed me with what I call White Foam, but it really a red extinguisher. They don't spray my face; I could suffocate. But the burning stops immediately. I sigh in relief, and decide that this would be a good place for a nap. I drift off as they grab the stretcher.
A/N: Billy has reached his limits, and he is going mad. (Just so you're not staring at the computer like, "Wha?" He is insane. You are not imagining things.)