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
Distant Memories
Time felt meaningless before the Inquisitor's interrogation. They never seemed to tire of hearing my voice, be it honest answers or screams. Occasionally, while the elder was taking notes, Emery, the apprentice, would grow bored, and take it out on me. She used all sorts of weak spells to torment me. Occasionally, after a particularly successful attempt, judged only by my expressions of pain, she would report excitedly to her mentor, who would roll his eyes.
By the time he finally snapped his notebook shut, blood streamed from countless wounds on my body, running down my bare form and splattering in fine drops upon the white floor. Where my skin wasn't stained crimson, it was bruised and broken, discolored with hideous blotches of yellow and purple. My soul fared no better, the constant stimulation leaving me hovering on the borders of unconsciousness.
"Well done, Emery," the mentor said, ruffling her hair.