[Closed] They Said That Hell's Not Hot

[earl_ciel]

WHO: Ciel Phantomhive (earl_ciel), Sebastian (blackestate), and Shira (cut_em_open)
WHAT: Butler is doing some cleaning.
WHERE: Somewhere seedy where twelve year-olds shouldn't be.
WHEN: Day 127, after Shira's post.

Comments

[cut_em_open]

A sharp, raw pain shot through Shira's arm when Sebastian just caught his bones mid-attack. He stared, silent, face strained, eye widened in disbelief and refusal to believe what he saw. But it was only the beginning. A short, breathless outcry escaped him when his bones were hacked cleanly off, and what followed was only pain. It didn't even occur to him with what precision the other worked.

He had started screaming eventually, and when his limbs were all broken and he could no longer struggle, he had switched his objective to staying alive, staying awake. He was not ashamed to scream and wince, the key was to keep breathing, fighting that blackness that threatened to take him over. He had sworn before that if he would die - and there was no way that man would let him get away alive - then he would go down fighting, no matter how pointless, breathing as long as his heart was still inside his body. Of course, that was growing noticeably harder with his ribs smashed and tiny pieces of bones penetrating his lungs.

He could not move safe for the involuntary flinching and jerking of his muscles in reaction to the pain, and his breath, flat and shallow and much too fast, brought out blood from his lungs in raspy, shallow chokes. His one eye glazed and barely open, he tried - and failed - to give Sebastian a murderous glare and form words with his lips, when he had managed to catch his breath enough, but the strength he had used for this faded almost instantly. There was nothing he could do but lie there pathetically, able to concentrate on nothing more than staying conscious.