3:15 AM
Raoul Wallenberg Forest; Bronx, New York
October 28th, 2007
•••
“Δεν νιώθω πια τα χέρια μου..”
It had been around 4 hours since I made it into this brutal situation and I had started to feel the side effects of the coldness around me. My bloody hands now grew a scabbed black as I found myself unable to move my fingers. Pain intensified my shivering body tenfold as I remained at the edge of the river, my eyes now barely open.
“Γάμα, νιώθω τόσο αδύναμος.” I slightly whined out under my breath, falling right back onto my knees as I gagged up a mixture of dried and fresh blood. “Κανείς δεν είναι τριγύρω. Είμαι ολομόναχος. Θα πεθάνω μόνος μου. τελείωσε για μένα..”
I knew that I’m completely unable to go any farther than I already am. My howl had became useless and laid on deaf ears. My body was closer to giving up on me again and there’s nowhere I could warm back up at. It’s over for me. I know it is.
“Θέλω απλώς να γυρίσω σπίτι, ακόμα κι αν είναι Υπερηφάνεια Δαχτυλίδι.” I begged aloud, tears filling my eyes and I managed to hold my head in my hands. “Τι έκανα για να το αξίζω αυτό? Τι έκανα για να δικαιολογήσω μια τιμωρία χειρότερη από την εκτέλεση? Ή..ήταν εξορία?”
Before I could fully break down, I suddenly caught a scent. A scent of blood. Unique blood. Blood that made my mouth water as I faced the direction of the scent.
‘A meal..?’ I immediately thought and forced myself to stand back up, a subtle growl rattling my throat. With zero hesitation, I limped through the river and towards the location of the scent, drool and blood dripping down my chin. ‘Please be a meal. Please be a meal. I need a meal. I need it. I. NEED. IT..’
•••
Translations from Devil’s Tongue:
“I can't feel my hands anymore..”
“F—k, I feel so weak. Nobody's around. I'm all alone. I'm going to die alone. It's over for me..”
“I just want to go back home..even if it's the Pride Ring. What did I do to deserve this? What did I do to warrant a punishment worse than execution? Or..was it exile?”
