He couldn't even-- his eyes burned, his head was pounding harder than his heart, he felt his throat gurgle in his own blood, but nothing compared to the distinct agony that was erupting from--- his entire body. Caradoc's legs had ceased to function properly, they might as well have be broken. His arms seemed to be filled with lead, because suddenly they became impossible to lift up. It was impossible for him to defend himself, to even lift up his hands and stop Grayson in any way, or take the knife from him.
He was--- he was--- dying. Was this what it was suppose to feel like? So much pain that your entire body went numb? Caradoc felt his mind stress to think, to keep going, but it too became too tired, filled with lead, and the only thing he could understand was that he was dying. Like a broken record, the thought kept playing over and over in his head. Dying, dying, dying--- finally. Twenty-one years wasn't that bad, he had experienced more than most people would, with just missing out on one thing, but--- dying, he was actually dying.
Perhaps Grayson had begun dig into him again, but at this point he was struggling to keep his eyes open, focusing for a few more seconds. At least--- reflexively, he felt himself cry out again with a new sharp pain, but not as loudly. Were his ears failing? Everything was failing, why, why try, it was pointless he couldn't fight it, everything was just--- over.
Over. That one word took place on the broken record, eventually dying out with Caradoc himself.
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