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  • Good Morning, Jack Deschain

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Tell your day-to-day stories here
 #5493  by Baju
 Wed Apr 13, 2016 2:42 pm
"No!" Jack woke up from sleeping with a start. Sweat poured down his face and he could feel himself breathing hard, his lungs filling with the cold bitter air of the Chernarus dawn. He blinked his eyes in the darkness, seeing nothing but the pitch blackness around him.

His skin tingled from pain and he felt hot and cold at the same time, a feeling that combined to make him altogether miserable. A hand went to his stomach as it flip flops. His mouth was completely dry, his head pounding as if there was someone hitting him in the temples with a ballpeen hammer.

Jack turned onto his side, using the tree he'd been sleeping under as a brace as he pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled slightly, but quickly found his balance, one hand on the harsh bark of the tree, the other around his stomach. He waited five seconds, then ten, and eventually thirty. When no vomit came he opened his eyes again.

The night horrors weren't getting any better, but his body seemed to be acclimating to them, at the very least. Now he brought his hand to his face, focusing his eyes until he could see it in the dark clearly, then focusing his will until he forced the hand to stop trembling.

Once his hands were steady he'd push away from the tree and test his legs. Wobbly, but he could support himself. All in all, it took him a minute before he felt he was ready to move around, his time was improving at least.

The horrors never got any easier to deal with. The pain and the heat never got any less real, and she never missed a single time he'd drifted off to sleep. It was always, horrifyingly, and disturbingly, exactly the same fresh slice of Hell as the first time he'd experienced it.

There was no prelude, there was no sense of crescendo to any of it. She never allowed him a moment's preparation, never gave him a second of mercy. His existence would suddenly and simply be an all encompassing pain and misery unlike he'd ever believed possible before his service to Her.

The heat of the fire, the talons of the demons ripping his flesh from his bones, the hopelessness as She allowed him to get to the very edge of the pit of despair, only to be dragged back under by the screaming masses. It was Her way of reminding him that he belonged to Her and he would always belong to Her Mind, Body, and Soul for the entirety of time.

Jack took in a big breath of air through his nose and let it out through his mouth before trying to sip some water from his PET bottle. He forced regret from his mind, he forced a born and bred Judeo-Christian mentally away, and he took his sense of hope and desire to be free and forced it deep down into the pit of his gut, locking it away.

He felt no regret. He had no remorse. Another deep breath came to him and he grinned, the cold mist from his breath hitting the air swirled around his face. There was nothing to the man's demeanor that would allow him a second's hesitation to carry out Her will.

This was his life now. His life was servitude to the Goddess he'd made a deal with. Nothing would change that. He picked up his weapon and put it on his back, starting to collect his gear.

He made this sacrifice, now others would as well. It was time to go to work.