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04-22-2013, 02:00 AM
Deep inside you an instinct wakes, shakes you loose from the arms of a restless slumber. A moan crosses your lips but does not sound as pain contorts your face, makes it difficult to breathe despite the rattled gasping sounding in intervals from your throat, raw with sheer terror that has not quite set in yet. Struggling to your feet, you stagger forwards, almost losing your balance as you move, muscles taught and eyes wide as windows. You had never known child-birth, never known the pain of your body opening, preparing to steal new life from the swell in your stomach, never had the kind of mother to tell you stories so that you would know what to expect. But you do anyway, you knew from the moment those eyes of stained-glass and charcoal flew open, your mind conscious, that the moments you had been dreading had come. And still, despite the waking knowledge buried within your very marrow, you fight what you know to be inevitable, stumbling forwards, legs threatening to give way beneath your weight, too heavy for the bird-like bones, lungs straining with every breath. Your mind is too numb to process the racing thoughts, the surging tides of emotions migrating through your veins; your heart too busy with regret, too stubborn to follow through with what every inch of you is screaming: lie down, succumb. There is a terrible sensation within your gut, one that sends your fading mind to the brink of something you had never before thought about: death. Death - you do not feel it looming above your head, threatening a demise that you cannot escape - you do not feel faint aside from the pulsating pain that seizes every inch of your petite frame. You do not feel anything that would suggest that you would not survive to see the morning break; so why, why does the feeling cling so desperately? Another jolt of pain rushes through you, ceasing your movement down to the tiniest pinprick of motion from your eyes, and you can no longer fight. Even as you try to slide forwards some enormous gravitational force pulls you to the ground, crumbles you into an uncomfortable heap atop the cool, moist blades of grass. Fog swirls around you from the fall, creating shapes you can't care to name through blurry visions, hazy mind. A scream forces the lines of your mouth into a taut shape, though the only sound that follows is a soft whine, the scream stripped of the pain, the utter terror. You can no longer fight the urge to push. |
* tralala, we'll say he's actually born here. :3
open to anyone ♥
