The lingering pain. It’s all I can think about. It dwells in my consciousness like an open wound, even though there is no injury to be found. It’s like fire in my flesh, a deep, crippling fury that makes me lose my sanity at times. I never should have made a deal with that witch woman. The cost has just been too high.
But it’s too late to turn back now. She’s gone now, disappeared back into whatever Hell she came from. She appeared only briefly, at the farmer’s market in town, and I was curious as to what she could do. Yes, she gave me my desire, but in exchange she has crippled me for life.
I can barely walk now without screaming in agony. Sleep only comes after complete and utter exhaustion from the pain, and even then, it only lasts a short time because the misery soon returns to wake me up. And then the continued fatigue and tiredness only compounds the pain. It reduces my threshold for tolerance for the anguish, and the torment amplifies itself so that I can barely think.
I’ve tried everything to get even a modicum of pain reduction. Nothing works. No painkiller touches it. No therapy reduces it. Even the lightest physical touch from someone else makes me scream in anguish.
I’m thinking about ending it all. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It’s only been a couple of months, but these have been the months from Hades itself. I only know of one way out, but even now, I’m loathe to take it. I’m torn between somehow finding a way to survive — or finding a way to opt out.
The deal was never worth this price. I’d take it back if I could. I just wish something would give me a moment’s relief. I’d almost be willing to make another deal just for that. Almost.
