Augusnippets Day 15: Starvation
cw: drugging, substance dependency, starvation, emeto, sorta dehumanization, dissociation, nonsexual nudity, vague deathwish
for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 537
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He can no longer sit up on his own.
Too weak. In the sparse moments where he's coherent enough to think, the spy knows they're tapering off his rations. Hunger crawls up from his stomach like a swarm of ants, leeching what little strength remains.
He It is always trapped in a haze, but the haze is no longer big enough. It aches all day, unable to even sleep until someone brings another water bottle. Pain consumes its leg, hunger shivers in its bones. When guards pass by, it begs them for water, not food, wanting only to numb it all.
Sometimes they comply, but it's rarely enough. Are they taking away its relief too? Or has it built a tolerance to the drug?
(the thought terrifies the spy when he can comprehend it; the thought of never returning to himself)
It can hardly move. It doesn't want to move. When the stubborn thing inside tries to lift its head, there is only dizziness, more pain, a fleeting fear that this may be the end.
The creature wants none of that. No thoughts, no senses, only the drug that allows it to sleep.
They bring it water and it drinks and nothing happens. No fog, no sudden emptiness. It whimpers into the concrete for hours or days.
The bring it water and it drinks.
(no food)
It can't stop shivering, nausea twisting its empty stomach.
(why can't you do something why can't you move why couldn't you have held fast)
They don't bring it water.
Two guards, it can see them through hazy vision. Its eyes hurt, its head aches.
(this is different)
They grab its arms, dragging it out of the cell, bad leg howling, utter agony, creature howling with it, voice weak
(pathetic, could've ran, could've done something)
the movement and pain and nausea and dizziness are all too much after it's been allowed to feel nothing for so long and it heaves up nothing, bile on its tongue, tears in its eyes. They drag it somewhere and it hurts it hurts it hurts.
(could've turned it down)
would've died
(would've been better)
They have to hold it up, hands around and under its arms. Someone else is talking at it, but it doesn't matter. It hurts and it's cold, colder than the cell was.
(when did they take his clothes?)
It tries to vomit again, left with a sour string of spit clinging to its chin. Over, it just wants it to be over, just wants it to—
Its head jerks up so quickly it sees spots when it hears the snap of a bottle opening. The new person is holding it out
(smirking)
It tries to reach for the bottle, can't shake itself free of the hands, trapped. It can't make sense of the stream of words pouring from its mouth, but it can't stop them either.
pleasepleasepleaesithurtspleaseithurts
(you were supposed to be better than this you were supposed to endure–)
The man laughs.
“Damn. Guess you really can do a number on a guy without lifting a finger.” He screws the cap back on, ignoring the creature's despairing whine.
“Put him back for now. I think he's almost ready for some questions.”