Breaking
The sense of touch was equally overwhelming. The cold, unyielding floor beneath me felt like a bed of scalding coals, and the rough texture of the stone was excruciatingly sharp. The fabric of my clothes against my skin was a torment, and I could feel every fiber digging into my flesh.
As for smell and taste, they bombarded me with a rush of odors and flavors I had long forgotten. The musty, damp air was cloying and oppressive, and I could taste the staleness of the dungeon in the back of my throat. Every breath was a struggle, every inhalation choking my senses.
The relentless onslaught of sensory input was an unbearable assault on my fragile, reawakening mind. I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside, and my consciousness teetered on the brink of collapse. I cried out in agony, a guttural, primal scream that was barely recognizable as my own voice.
Somebody help me…
Creeeeeeeeeek