Saccharine

At first, he was falling. The wind whipped past him violently, roaring in his ears and biting at the exposed skin of his face. He saw the droplets of blood that struggled to keep up with his body as it plummeted toward sure death. His limbs flailed wildly as he tried to do something. Anything. He only succeeded in barrel rolling, rushing for the ground headfirst, and he didn’t have time to feel afraid. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, screaming ‘do something’ and honestly, the only coherent thought running through his mind was ‘this is it. This is where I die’. 

This is where I die.

He squeezed his eyes closed, but the ground never came. Instead, his body slammed full force into the inky black waves of a turbulent ocean. It opened its gaping jaws and swallowed him whole. Pain shot through him, and he cried out, eyes shooting open in surprise. He was alive, but his bones were broken. He’d die here, forgotten about at the bottom of the sea. Slowly, as though his limbs were weighed down by an iron ball, he sank.

“You’re so scared.” 

The voice echoed all around him. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes he saw the nothingness of an endless white corridor staring back at him. A groan escaped his lips, and he trembled weakly as he struggled to move. His joints were pleading with him to stay still, but the adrenaline from before hadn’t ceased to flow, and he HAD to move. 

He saw bright lights shining down at him, and he thought he might be dead. But, was death supposed to hurt this badly? The boy glanced down at the floor, watching droplets of blood and water roll off of his fingertips. 

He tasted it on his tongue, tasted the salt, the iron, and he wanted to vomit. 

“You’re smart, kid. Really, it’s kind of a shame.” 

There it was again, that voice. So familiar, yet... 

He limped forward, holding his side gingerly as he breathed raggedly through his nose. There was a door. He caught a faint glimpse of it underneath the light that blinded him. 

“Oh no, not yet. You and I...”

The walls seemed to pulsate, the lights were beating, and a strangled cry escaped the boy’s lips. He grabbed his head, squeezing his eyes closed in an attempt to stave off the headache that thumped with it. 

“We’re...”

The ends of the walls seemed to slam closer. 

“...not...”

Closer.

“...finished...”

Too close.

“...yet.” 

The walls closed in on him, and he heard the sickening crunch of his bones snapping in their teeth. He was too weak to muster up another scream. He leaned into it, their embrace.

“Are we, Peter?”