The Forsaken Hero
I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
Abandoned
The sudden, crippling cold forced me back into my body, and I awoke with a gasp. Sweat streaked my body, yet I was racked with chills, shivering so violently that I'd already exhausted what little strength I'd managed to recover from resting. It felt as though I was back in the slave wagon in the middle of a snowstorm, frost coating my hair and fingers turning numb with frostbite.
The fact that I'd regained consciousness at all was surprising. I'd half expected myself to drift deeper into the darkness, perhaps never to wake up. But the thought brought less fear than I expected, my heart so filled with sorrow that there wasn't room for much else.