Chapter 1
Where am I?
The cold is a living thing. A dark, persistent creature that wraps it’s spidery fingers around his throat. It seeps into his bones and takes hold of his limbs. It steals the breath directly from his lungs and makes it dance in front of his face. He’s stopped shivering a long time ago.
Where am I?
His heart is outside of his body, it must be. Because it is thrumming all around him, pouring blood over his skin, thick like molasses, warm like bourbon trickling down his throat. The pain is blinding. And if he is even still alive then he won’t be for much longer.
Where am I?
Is the wind screaming? Or is it him? He can never tell, sound is always strange and loud and foreign in his ears. He remembers the sound of falling, quiet in his ears compared to the gasp he made when his brain realized there was no ground under him. He remembers waking up to deafening silence, then again to people muttering in a language he doesn’t understand. It is deep and guttural and strange and he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand…
Где я?