P
PlayingMonster
Guest
Original poster
"Two months, Alex. She's left you here for two months and hasn't come back for you. Are you sure she even is coming back? Maybe she left you here for me. How do you know she's even coming back?" Edward taunted as Alex sank to the floor, his hands cuffed behind his back. He didn't respond, simply turned his head away as he coughed. Edward watched him, before walking out. Two months. It had felt like an eternity.
His body was suffering. His leg had healed, but not properly, and an ugly scar sprawled over the back of his leg. He'd also been left with a limp, making every single step slightly painful. He had numerous other scars as well, from when they kicked at him when he wasn't living up to their standards. Once, they'd even had a knife to tear his skin. He'd lost a lot of weight, and could see his ribs through the holes in his shirt. Meals tended to turn up while he was asleep or in too much pain to eat. He actually ate maybe one meal a day, and it wasn't enough to sustain him. At least they were supplying him with fresh clothes, but only when ones he was wearing were below whatever standards they had for him. His hair was long again, and he had a scruffy beard thanks to not being able to shave for two months. His skin was pale and his eyes dull.
His mind was raw. Hours of strenuous training made just thinking painful when he came back. It stripped his control, meaning he could hear every single thought and emotion of everyone in a two hundred metre radius. When his mind recovered slightly, he was stronger. He could break barriers that he'd never been able to before. Making people do things was easier. He could tune out the "background" noise of a person's mind and could focus in on what he wanted to hear. But he had almost constant headaches.
He curled up, leaning against the wall and already feeling his eyes starting to close. He just had to hope that she'd come back soon. He wasn't going to let himself believe that she wasn't coming back, because if he did, he wouldn't have a reason to keep holding on. He saw her a lot of the time when he dreamed, and he missed her like he'd never missed anyone before. He closed his eyes and sank into exhausted unconsciousness until something else roused him.
His body was suffering. His leg had healed, but not properly, and an ugly scar sprawled over the back of his leg. He'd also been left with a limp, making every single step slightly painful. He had numerous other scars as well, from when they kicked at him when he wasn't living up to their standards. Once, they'd even had a knife to tear his skin. He'd lost a lot of weight, and could see his ribs through the holes in his shirt. Meals tended to turn up while he was asleep or in too much pain to eat. He actually ate maybe one meal a day, and it wasn't enough to sustain him. At least they were supplying him with fresh clothes, but only when ones he was wearing were below whatever standards they had for him. His hair was long again, and he had a scruffy beard thanks to not being able to shave for two months. His skin was pale and his eyes dull.
His mind was raw. Hours of strenuous training made just thinking painful when he came back. It stripped his control, meaning he could hear every single thought and emotion of everyone in a two hundred metre radius. When his mind recovered slightly, he was stronger. He could break barriers that he'd never been able to before. Making people do things was easier. He could tune out the "background" noise of a person's mind and could focus in on what he wanted to hear. But he had almost constant headaches.
He curled up, leaning against the wall and already feeling his eyes starting to close. He just had to hope that she'd come back soon. He wasn't going to let himself believe that she wasn't coming back, because if he did, he wouldn't have a reason to keep holding on. He saw her a lot of the time when he dreamed, and he missed her like he'd never missed anyone before. He closed his eyes and sank into exhausted unconsciousness until something else roused him.