Barely Breathe
Author: MELODEAROSE
last update2025-04-28 23:47:35

Somewhere deep beneath Blostom’s rotting heart, far below the streetlights and laughter, Joey Douglas sat chained to a chair that groaned with every shallow breath he took.

The room around him was a tomb — low, damp, stinking of mildew and old rust. A single bulb swung from the ceiling, its weak light carving sharp shadows across cracked concrete walls.

Joey’s face was barely recognizable anymore.

One eye swollen shut. Blood dried in a crust along his temple. His lower lip split open so deep he tasted iron every time he moved.

He slumped forward, wrists cuffed so tightly his hands had turned a sickly color beneath the shackles. Every small movement sent jolts of pain up his arms, but worse was the steady, gnawing ache in his ribs — cracked, maybe broken — from the last time one of the men had decided to remind him of his place.

And they were still here.

Three of them, standing just beyond the thin halo of light, their faces blurred by shadow and menace.

Watching him. Waiting.

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