"REST"

WRITTEN 25.NOV.06

WORDS 591

WRITTEN IN 15 MINUTES

HAVEN'T SLEPT IN 74 HOURS

There was a constant guard on him, smacking him, pinching him, forcing him to stay awake. There was no rest for the wicked, after all.

How many days had it been? He had read somewhere, once, that the human mind can not survive long without REM sleep. Without dreams. What had it said? Twelve days? Thirteen days? How long had he been awake…?

His head ached. His eyes itched. His body was shaking.

His eyes drifted closed again. He just couldn't help himself…

The next thing he knew, there was blood in his mouth, and his head was ringing worse than ever. He dragged his eyes up to meet his captor's.

Iced blue glared down at him, and he lowered his eyes again. Defiance did no one any good…

How many days had it been? He had read somewhere, that after so many days had passed, the mind would start to deteriorate. Would crumble, would shatter, would fall to pieces. How many days did he have left? Three? Four? How long had it been since he'd slept…?

Too long.

He let his eyelids fall again.

--And yelped, when strong fingers grabbed hold of his face and turned it up again. "You think you're allowed to sleep, boy?" The face was mere inches from his own, and he shuddered as another's breath ghosted across his cheek. "You think we're going to allow you the pleasure of escape?"

He refused to answer. He tried to look away, too tired to fight any more. Too tired for everything…

He was not allowed. His face was held firmly, inescapably pointed towards the face of his captor. Those crystal eyes were half closed, and their owner had leaned in closer to whisper. This stranger's lips were brushing against his ear…!

"…Do you have any idea what kind of hell I can make your life…?"

Don't answer.

He bit his tongue, but felt something in him curl up and die as his torturer's teeth bit into the cartilage of his ear. He could not prevent the cry that rose from his lips. Couldn't have if the world had depended on it. The pain…he was sure the man had bitten clean through, in places.

"You want sleep….you want rest….you are starving for dreams." A low, rough chuckle sent ice into his veins, and he wanted -- wanted, but was unable -- to shy away. The chains were taught. He was still prisoner.

"….I can make it so you never want to dream again…."

And then the nightmares were becoming reality, a waking dream of the worst kind. His body was forcibly invaded by the other man, and he saw his world break in two.

How long had it been since he'd slept…? How long could the human mind last without sleep, without dreams…?

…what did it matter anymore…?

He didn't want to sleep. Not anymore. But his body betrayed him as exhaustion draped him, weighed him down.

He didn't want to sleep…

Twelve days, and the human mind breaks. It shatters, needing desperately the ability to dream again.

But he didn't want to anymore, not with dreams like these….

His dreams were enough to fracture the mind on their own.

There was no longer a constant guard on him, no one smacking him, pinching him, or forcing him to stay awake. Instead they left him there. Someone brought food, once, maybe twice a day. The food was laced with something that made him sleep.

There was no rest for the wicked.

No matter how long it sleeps.

THE END