34
Mikhail punched the ice wall, the sound of cracking bones mixing with the cell’s whispers. The brute force of the impact reverberated along his arm, up to his shoulder, and down his spine. But it wasn’t until he licked the scorching blood from his skin that he felt alive.
He landed another blow on the wall, this time with his other fist – the one healing from yesterday. When the regenerating new tissue tore open, pain erupted once more, intensifying the blissful sensation of being alive.
Fuck it.
Everybody thought physical pain was the greatest torture in Prokaliya, but Mikhail’s deepest fear was becoming numb to it. Because the moment the pain ceased existing to him would be the moment of his demise.
He had already survived death this year, and he would do it again.
His eyes tracked the trail of blood dripping from his hands to the floor. But what was the point of survival, if he didn’t actually live ?