Mud.
1/1.
His footsteps left prints in the mud and the mud stuck to his shoes. They were new shoes, still white and pristine. But not anymore, and he didn’t really care either. He continued trudging through the mud.
His chest ached, where he imagined his heart was positioned. The ache reached all the way to the bottom of his ribs, where it throbbed even more. Rain pelted his skin, stinging it. The winds whipped around him, making his hair thrash around his face. He continued trudging through the mud.
The only indication of tears were his swollen eyes, puffy and red. Rain and his tears had mixed together and became one. His hands shook, more out of emotion than weather. Every muscle felt like playdoh, malleable and weak. He continued trudging through the mud.
The thoughts in his head strangled him, abused him in ways he could not conceive. He wanted out, wanted reprieve from the violence. Release, escape, pardon, goodbye.
He continued trudging through the mud.
His chest ached, where he imagined his heart was positioned. The ache reached all the way to the bottom of his ribs, where it throbbed even more. Rain pelted his skin, stinging it. The winds whipped around him, making his hair thrash around his face. He continued trudging through the mud.
The only indication of tears were his swollen eyes, puffy and red. Rain and his tears had mixed together and became one. His hands shook, more out of emotion than weather. Every muscle felt like playdoh, malleable and weak. He continued trudging through the mud.
The thoughts in his head strangled him, abused him in ways he could not conceive. He wanted out, wanted reprieve from the violence. Release, escape, pardon, goodbye.
He continued trudging through the mud.