Post by Jin Kirkland on Aug 1, 2011 23:56:11 GMT -5
Jin’s tired brown eyes stared unblinkingly at the white walls making up his cell (they called it a room, but he knew better), attempting to figure out how being bored out of his skull was supposed to cure him of his supposed illness. The walls weren’t even white...they were more of a pale yellow, with splotches of a faded brown splattered across to break up the monotony. It made his stomach churn, just like the meals he was somehow expected to eat.
He could smell it, the tray of disgusting slop the nurses had the gall to call ‘food’. It was still sitting outside the small hatch bolted onto his cell’s door, untouched save for the dozens of buzzing flies crawling and spitting and shitting all over it. Did they honestly expect him to even touch it? These humans had no idea who they were dealing with, did they? They could yell at him, beat and torture him as much as they liked; nothing would change the fact that he was, and would always be, different.
The teen shifted slightly in his sorry excuse for a bed, hugging a sad looking pillow closer to his chest. The buzzing sound from outside was getting louder, causing his left eye to start twitching slightly. Jin could easily imagine the filthy little insects crawling into every bump and crevice of the dull grey food; poking out of the bread, burrowing into the meat, splashing about helplessly in the lukewarm water...
He was suddenly assaulted with images of the same winged insects wriggling out of a dead soldier’s mouth, crawling across his unseeing eyes and through is mud and blood and sweat soaked hair. It was the same scene over and over with different men fighting different battles during different points in time – it was unending.
With a frustrated growl, Jin sat up and slammed his head against the uncovered wall, angry tears streaming down his cheeks as he repeated the action again and again in a vain attempt to rid himself of the haunting memories that refused to leave him alone.
He could smell it, the tray of disgusting slop the nurses had the gall to call ‘food’. It was still sitting outside the small hatch bolted onto his cell’s door, untouched save for the dozens of buzzing flies crawling and spitting and shitting all over it. Did they honestly expect him to even touch it? These humans had no idea who they were dealing with, did they? They could yell at him, beat and torture him as much as they liked; nothing would change the fact that he was, and would always be, different.
The teen shifted slightly in his sorry excuse for a bed, hugging a sad looking pillow closer to his chest. The buzzing sound from outside was getting louder, causing his left eye to start twitching slightly. Jin could easily imagine the filthy little insects crawling into every bump and crevice of the dull grey food; poking out of the bread, burrowing into the meat, splashing about helplessly in the lukewarm water...
He was suddenly assaulted with images of the same winged insects wriggling out of a dead soldier’s mouth, crawling across his unseeing eyes and through is mud and blood and sweat soaked hair. It was the same scene over and over with different men fighting different battles during different points in time – it was unending.
With a frustrated growl, Jin sat up and slammed his head against the uncovered wall, angry tears streaming down his cheeks as he repeated the action again and again in a vain attempt to rid himself of the haunting memories that refused to leave him alone.