30 DAYS OF SHEP WHUMP DAY 7 - FIRE
Jan. 16th, 2009 11:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I don't know if I'll be able to write tomorrow's fic, too much work today and tomorrow, but I'll do my best.
Prompt #7: Fire
Author:
x_erikah_x
Word Count: 262
Fire
By ErikaHK
Pain crept under his skin. He dug his nails into his palm and squeezed his eyes. He wanted to scream.
His throat burned.
His lungs burned.
His whole skin burned.
He wanted to tear it off. He jerked his arms, wanting to break free from the restraints.
He arched his back and released the agonizing yell of pain when he couldn't hold it inside anymore.
The angry red marks on his arms flared. He needed to get them off! To scratch them until there was no more flesh to burn. Take them out. Make them bleed. Hurt and cut and rip it all out. Until there was nothing more to feel. Until he could either sleep, or pass out, or die.
Hot tears made his face wet. They stang his eyes and face. They rolled down his neck and put them on fire too.
His throat was raw and hurting, but he couldn't stop the screaming. It was like being on fire.
No, it was worse than being on fire. Being on fire only hurt until you died.
Something touched him. His shoulder exploded in pain. He whimpered and cried and screamed. He squirmed away. He banged his head against the pillow. The hand moved away.
The flames died off. It still burned him, there, at the back of his head, but it was like paradise. It was like sand. Sand that had turned into embers. But embers he could take. With hot embers he could even fall sleep.
And sleep he did.
Until it started again.
The End
Prompt #7: Fire
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Word Count: 262
By ErikaHK
Pain crept under his skin. He dug his nails into his palm and squeezed his eyes. He wanted to scream.
His throat burned.
His lungs burned.
His whole skin burned.
He wanted to tear it off. He jerked his arms, wanting to break free from the restraints.
He arched his back and released the agonizing yell of pain when he couldn't hold it inside anymore.
The angry red marks on his arms flared. He needed to get them off! To scratch them until there was no more flesh to burn. Take them out. Make them bleed. Hurt and cut and rip it all out. Until there was nothing more to feel. Until he could either sleep, or pass out, or die.
Hot tears made his face wet. They stang his eyes and face. They rolled down his neck and put them on fire too.
His throat was raw and hurting, but he couldn't stop the screaming. It was like being on fire.
No, it was worse than being on fire. Being on fire only hurt until you died.
Something touched him. His shoulder exploded in pain. He whimpered and cried and screamed. He squirmed away. He banged his head against the pillow. The hand moved away.
The flames died off. It still burned him, there, at the back of his head, but it was like paradise. It was like sand. Sand that had turned into embers. But embers he could take. With hot embers he could even fall sleep.
And sleep he did.
Until it started again.