1— A Prison of Flesh.

Artyom was lying still in his hospital bed, feeling completely abandoned, helpless and trapped in his own body.

He was unable to move, speak, or even feel anything. He could hear the day to day sounds of the hospital around him - the constant beeping of machines, the rustling of papers, the hurried footsteps of the doctors and nurses - but he was utterly powerless to respond to any of it.

The only part of Artyom's withered corpse of a body that still seemed to be under his control were his eyes. He could move them up and down or side to side, but that was it.

It was a strange and deeply unsettling feeling to be so disconnected from his own body. He felt like he was floating in an endless abyss, completely alone and helpless.

Artyom had never felt so completely vulnerable and terrified in his life. He had no idea how he was going to endure this. Every moment felt like an eternity, and he was trapped in a perpetual nightmare.

He would wonder for how much longer he'd be stuck like this and whether he would ever be able to break out from this terrifyingly soul-raking existence.

As an orphan, he had the sum total of absolutely nobody to visit him in the hospital or even to advocate for his care. It was truly a sad state of affairs.

For Artyom, being alone was in his nature for as long as he can remember.

Artyom had always been a lonely loner and didn't have anybody you could call a close friend or things like family.

Artyom had been all by his lonesome for a long time, ever since he turned 18 and was forced to fend for himself. With no family whatsoever to turn to, he had worked a string of odd jobs, doing whatever it took to make ends meet.

He had learned to be self-reliant and had become quick at adapting to unpredictable living circumstances.

It was during a certain one of these odd jobs, working as a long haul truck driver for a construction site, that misfortune tolled its bell.

A big rig truck decorated in striking red and blue flame patterns had crashed into him at an extreme speed and hit him with tremendous force. His truck was sent flying off the road, off of a steep cliff as the red and blue flame patterned truck had quite literally gotten onto its two legs and ran away into the far distance with all its might.

He had been quickly rushed to the hospital by helicopter with severe injuries, and the doctors had already done everything they could to save him. But in the end the damage was too extensive, and he had slipped into a coma.

When he at last woke up, he found himself unable to move or speak. He was completely paralyzed, and the doctors had diagnosed him with locked-in syndrome. It was a devastating diagnosis, and Artyom felt like he was living a nightmare.

As time passed, Artyom's condition showed no signs of improvement. He was transferred to a long-term care facility, where he was left alone with his thoughts. The kind staff did their best to care for him, but they were overworked and understaffed. Artyom was essentially alone, trapped in his own body, with no way to communicate with the outside world.

Despite his dire situation, Artyom held onto the hope that someone would come to visit him, that he would have some kind of connection to the world outside. But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and still, nobody came. He was an orphan, with no family to speak of, and it seemed like he had been forgotten by the world.

In this lonely way of life, Artyom found some solace in the books that the nurses would read to him though the odd femboy goblin novel or teen wolf saga would make him hold his breath to get the nurse to stop.

He couldn't turn the pages himself nor did he get to choose the books, but he would listen intently as the stories transported him to different worlds.

It was a brief escape from his reality, but even that was taken away from him when the nurses changed and the books slowly stopped coming.

Artyom was trapped, both physically and emotionally, and he had no idea how long he would be forced to endure this agonizing torture of an existence.

Artyom lay wholly motionless on the hospital bed, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions that he could not express. He was trapped in his own body, unable to move or speak, but his mind was still active, and his thoughts consumed him. Gnawing away at his very core.

"I have no mouth and I must scream."

He couldn't believe this was his life now. He had been working hard to make ends meet, trying to build a better future for himself. And now, he was stuck in a hospital bed, unable to move or even feel anything.

As the days went by, his mind was plagued with questions. How had this happened to him? Why did it have to be him? What was the purpose of his existence now? He had no answers, only endless questions that he couldn't find a way to answer.

He felt completely isolated and alone. The only company he had was his own thoughts, and they were becoming more and more overwhelming with each passing day. He longed for someone to talk to, someone to truly connect with, but he knew it was unlikely to happen. He was an orphan after all.

The nurses who attended to him were kind, but they couldn't understand what he was going through. They had no idea what it was like to be trapped in your own body, to have no control over anything. He really was grateful for their care, but still, at the same time, he felt like they were just doing their job and nothing more.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Artyom's thoughts became darker. He felt like he was losing himself, that he was becoming an empty shell of the person he once was. He tried to hold on to the hope that one day he would recover, but as time passed, he began to doubt that it would ever happen.

Locked-in syndrome had taken everything from him. His independence, his freedom, and his ability to communicate with the world around him. All he had left were his thoughts, and they were slowly yet surely driving him insane.

Whilst Artyom was busy bathing in the dark cesspit of his thoughts two doctors are conversing about him.

The two doctors stood by Artyom's bedside, their expressions somber as they looked down at the motionless patient.

"I can't believe he's been like this for so long," the first doctor said, shaking his head. "It's just not right."

"I know," the second doctor solemnly replied. "But unfortunately, there's just nothing more we can do for him. He's been in this condition for months now, and there hasn't been a shred of improvement."

The first doctor let out a heavy sigh. "I know, but it just seems so cruel to let him suffer like this. He's barely even conscious."

The second doctor nodded his head in agreement. "I understand how you feel, but we have to think practically. His organs could save several lives. We should at least consider harvesting those organs."

The first doctor's expression suddenly shifted to one of shock and horror. "What?! You can't be serious! That's unethical, immoral and just downright bad!. It's like we're treating him like a piece of fucking meat!"

The second doctor remained calm. "I understand your concerns, but we have to prioritize the needs of the living. Think of all the people out there desperately waiting for organ transplants. We could save their lives."

The first doctor angrily shook his head, unable to believe what he was just hearing. "I can't believe you're even suggesting this. It's wrong, and I won't be a part of it."

The second doctor sighed, knowing the first doctor's stance was unlikely to change. "I understand. It's a difficult decision to choose between two evils, but one we as doctors have to learn to make."

The first doctor looked down with resolute eyes as he said.

"If I'm to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all."

The second doctor simply sighed in response to the younger doctors words as he thought to himself.

'How long can you keep to those words, kid.'

With that said, the two doctors quietly left the room, leaving Artyom alone with his mentations and his locked-in body.