Later

I see stars. The effort in sitting up is enormous. I feel sickly to my stomach, about to vomit. I suppose then I'd smell close to how I feel.

What a cruel thing the mind is. I know that it has created this place for me, this world of rust and blood. I know it's just my mind because despite where I feel I am I can smell where my body really is. I can still smell those fake flowers my wife sprays out of the can.

It will take great effort to move, this much I know. It's so comfortable to just lay, even while on a rusted metal grate. And the darkness here is so thick without interfering with my vision. Perfect to sleep. Perfect to be watched. I'd rather stay still, be seen as no threat.

Oh, if it would end. How happy I would be if it'd all end. Not just this place. All.

I'm afraid this place exists because here I find justification for the suffereing I felt in the other world. Or maybe this is the other world, but now I see it for real. But that smell, the can flowers, they cause me to linger. I curse their hold on me.

I can't die while she needs me, but I can't help her while I'm here. These are thoughts for later. Sleep will take me again, lest the beast does. Later.