04.10 Survival instinct
The man became tired of screaming. His body shivered, trembled, begged the floor to somehow consume him of all his existence.
My chest is rising and falling—it is imitating life well. Hopefully I can too.
He lay there in prostration, praying to who knows which heartless being, that could refuse his calls, one that even creation itself shouldn't ignore.
"H..he..y." My mouth is able to move after all, my throat functions too, thankfully.
The man didn't as much as flinch, maybe he didn't hear me. Or .. maybe he managed to perish.
"H-hey .. Hey! You alive?"
Like a movie going in reverse, the man stood up and seperated his palm from the inside of his chest, his skin unharmed without a drop of blood. What sort ot sorcery ...
He subtly turned his eyes to me, eyes that I had known for almost 16 years, or had tried to know of. I could recognize them, even though the face they belonged to was considerably different.