He tried to not think about why the man--the monster--wasn't stopping him. He just had to keep going. He had to do whatever he could to escape. He turned his attention to what came next. How he could alert someone on the outside. End the mission. This was beyond them. He needed an immediate extraction.
But before he got too far, physically or in his plan, he was dragged up onto his knees. Protests were on his lips the moment the gag was removed, but he barely got more than a word out before the rope dug into his throat. Only then did what Hadad had said hit him. His heart hammered in his chest, knowing this was it. He had know way to fight. No means of escaping. It had all been leading to this.
He tried to keep his neck tight, to keep the rope from strangling him completely. That might have been useful with constant pressure, but this was ever-increasing. This wasn't the lack of breath from hands around his throat. It wasn't even the strangulation of a noose. This was a makeshift garrote. He was dimly aware of the rope cutting deep into his neck, his face turning hot and purple as blood flow was restricted. His mouth moved, trying to close and opening again, in desperate attempt to move air past the rope. But only when it became physically impossible to do so, he would keep fighting. Struggling and pulling at the ropes. Trying to pull free.
Even in the face of certain, inescapable death, he would not give up.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-09-07 04:24 am (UTC)But before he got too far, physically or in his plan, he was dragged up onto his knees. Protests were on his lips the moment the gag was removed, but he barely got more than a word out before the rope dug into his throat. Only then did what Hadad had said hit him. His heart hammered in his chest, knowing this was it. He had know way to fight. No means of escaping. It had all been leading to this.
He tried to keep his neck tight, to keep the rope from strangling him completely. That might have been useful with constant pressure, but this was ever-increasing. This wasn't the lack of breath from hands around his throat. It wasn't even the strangulation of a noose. This was a makeshift garrote. He was dimly aware of the rope cutting deep into his neck, his face turning hot and purple as blood flow was restricted. His mouth moved, trying to close and opening again, in desperate attempt to move air past the rope. But only when it became physically impossible to do so, he would keep fighting. Struggling and pulling at the ropes. Trying to pull free.
Even in the face of certain, inescapable death, he would not give up.