Word Count ::
He fell silent now and ushered himself to be still, his tongue falling thick in his mouth and maw closing firmly. The man breathed heavily, great shattering groans of breaths that racked his body in the most unpleasant of ways, however he did his best to subside these shakings for he couldn’t be scared. He had to face up to what had happened, and be altogether brave. He complied to her will by rolling onto his stomach, so she could tend to the wounds on his back. They were the worse. They were the bleeding ones. Oh yes, there were more cuts, but not as bad as those. The majority of his pain came from bruises though. For some reason, kicks and punches hurt more than bites. He felt breath on his back as she bent down and immidieitly tensed up, his back going solid and ridgid, and taut. The reflex was only to be expected from what he had been through.
Her breath changed into her tongue and he winced as the first sting came. But then after a while, it became easier to manage, and it felt soothing rather than burning. Quickly the man grated the floor with both hands and clamped his iron grip around whatever debris he could find, firmly clenching firsts to take his mind off the horror, the pain. Graciously his eyes closed as she worked and he said nothing; a little squeak here and there from the man however altogether as silent as possible. It was after all, all he could do. He’d let her into his mental block now, and there was no going back, no taking it back. He’d not just feel respect towards the woman as he had done before but now think of her as a friend; though it was hard to be in the debt of your friend. She had saved him twice over and he planned to return what he owed her. But how?
Image courtesy of Scott Hudson **; Table by the Mentors!
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