Lost: Casa Perdida [Completed]

Prologue

He hadn't drunk water or eaten anything for seven days, and his stomach was acidic, screaming at him to grab a bite of anything, even leather or his own flesh. It was the thought of the pain that dissuaded him from biting off his fingers like the characters in the survivor novels he had read. The pain in all his muscles was driving him insane that he wanted to tear out his hair and gouge his own eyeballs.

He let out another scream of despair before banging his head on the floor five times until he lost the strength to do so. He then sighed and fell on the floor, with his face in her direction, moaning, grunting and groaning. She hadn't woken up and there were stains of dried blood and vomit on her face, mouth, nose and on the ground. The room was saturated with a pungent smell - a fresh smell, unlike the scent of dried feces and urine that was in the room before. He feared that it was that of death. He thought that she had died.

He broke into tears and another round of deep groans and grunts. Well, he tried to break into tears, but couldn't grieve; for, his throat was raw from dehydration, and there wasn't sufficient water in his body for tears to pour down and moisten his ragged face.

On top of all the suffering that he underwent, was the physical and mental agony of hopelessness. He wanted to die and get over everything that had happened as fast as possible, as painless as possible.

The torturous reality for him, though, was that no matter how much he desired death, he was not dying, or at least he was dying slower than he wanted to.

"What is taking you so long? Kill me!" he screamed, loudly, his voice breaking as his throat screeched through the torturous pain. "KILL ME!"

He wished that the demoness - that creature, poltergeist or whatever it was - would hear him. He wished that it would gladly oblige.