No Mercy.

Christopher sucked in a ragged breath. He brought an arm up to cover himself as he was spat upon with scorn and disgust. He was shown no remorse.

The teen's mouth twisted in distaste but silently accepted the assault. He tried to squint his eyes open but was roughly shoved left and right, barely getting enough footing to keep himself upright.

Christopher fell. And he was mercilessly whipped with a force he had never felt before. The boy slightly arched his back, trying to escape the sting and let out a choked sob, but hesitantly crept forward. If he couldn't walk, he'd creep.

Scabby knees brushed against rough asphalt in an effort to get somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere but where he was now.

His frame shook when the sounds of drums invaded his ears. Every now and again their low rumbles could be heard in the distance, but this time they were closer. Loud, sharp cracking threatened to render him deaf. 

Sounds of war within the land.

"Keep it pushing, Chris." The boy tried to encourage himself. He licked his lips and harshly swallowed while moving onward on all fours.

All he needed to do was find sanctuary. Perhaps he could find a church or an abandoned house or a farm or something to keep him safe for the night.

He didn’t know how long he’d been crawling but Christopher finally deemed he had enough energy to try standing again. The teen raised himself on his right foot, followed by his left, stumbling a bit before finding equilibrium.

He continued forward even though he couldn’t see anything before him. He was practically blind.

Christopher’s leg was swept from under him and gravity brought him facefirst into the ground. Warmth oozed out of his nose. “Dammit!” He was tired. So tired. His mouth curled, scarlet painted his lips and copper tainted his tongue. 

He was so done. Christopher slapped his palm on the ground before hurriedly pushing himself onto his feet again, and made a mad dash down what he assumed to be, the road. “Is that all you’ve got?” He shouted to the top of his lungs. His voice was drowned out by deep roars.

“I can howl too, you know! Ah!” The male’s outburst was cut short by an object connecting with his face, sending him flying backwards.

Christopher faintly identified the telltale sound of wood hitting the ground. Just his luck.

“Heh. I asked for it.” He croaked.

He was getting dizzy. The boy fought to keep his eyes open but quickly shut them once something fell into it.

He was getting spat on again. His head ached. His body was worse for wear.

Christopher tried getting up but he was pinned to the road, a cough tipped from his throat, his chest ached. He honestly didn’t know how much more of this he could take. The male gasped for air. It even hurt to breathe. Shit. It hurts.

The boy faintly registered his shirt being raised; pins and needles poking, prodding and scarring his form.

“Somebody, help me.” Despite uttering his plea, he knew nobody would come to save him.

The sides of his face were cradled in a gentle caress before those cool hands gave him a sickening slap. It was like someone wanted to prolong his suffering.

So unforgiving.

He was thirsty. Christopher weakly turned his head to the side and pursed his lips, trying to suck as much water from the puddle beside him as he could. Once he was satisfied, he angled his face back to the heavens.

“I’m fed up. Finish me off. You never showed this much mercy before.” His voice cracked and knitted his brow where the wood hit him.

The irate rustling of palm trees caught his attention. They swayed in a vigorous tempo, dancing to a dangerous tune. Maybe if given just enough force, one could uproot and put him out of his misery.

Blinding white light illuminated the spot where Christopher laid. “Better yet, what would be more badass than being taken out by Nature’s very own electric chair?” He smiled at the thought.

It was getting even harder to breathe now. It felt like someone was choking him. He was probably going to drown. Can he drown in a situation like this?

Well. If those balls of cotton kept pissing on him like they were now, he might as well.

Sparks of light caught his attention from his peripheral. Oh. Looks like a transformer blew. Christopher was suddenly rolled several times over, onto his side and he groaned at the abrupt motion. A loud crash had caused him to look back to where he once rested and saw a pile of debris.

“Oh, the irony.” He was Nature’s toy. A rag doll to play around with until they saw it fit to leave him be.

The teen sluggishly turned onto his back, assuming a position that was most comfortable in his predicament. 

Christopher was finally able to keep his eyes open for more than three seconds, thanks to a lull in the onslaught. Dark brown eyes took in the dark fortress that hovered above him, which was occasionally lit by streaks of electrical discharge.

He had to admit, despite his quandary, he couldn’t deny the chaotic beauty of what he was witnessing.

He was helpless to try and do anything, he was just one person. Someone whose efforts were fruitless against trying to go against the earth, Mother Eart, Mother Nature, what have you.

He was at the mercy of the environment.

He heard drumming in the distance once more.

Christopher licked his lips again, body palpitating in response to the elements. The boy brought his arms to hug his frame and curled in on himself. 

“Hugs, a cup of tea, blankets, toasted bread. Shower. Nice cosy bed.” He trembled, anything to give his mind the illusion of comfort.

Christopher tried to even out his breathing while nature’s breath tickled his ears, whispering their giggles, taunting his misfortune.