Drip...drip...
Henryk felt himself gradually regaining consciousness as drops of water fell on his forehead. Wondering what had caused it, he slowly opened his eyes.
"I'm still alive, fuck? How the fuck?"
Opening his eyes, a hand burned on the back of his head appeared in his field of vision. He remembered what Count Korin had done to him, and his anger flared anew. As he tried to raise his hands, he heard the creak of chains again.
Cursing under his breath, he lowered his hands and stared through tearful eyes at the dark ceiling dripping with water. At that moment, it seemed like the only form of entertainment in this cursed place, or rather, something to occupy his time.
"DAMN!" He screamed, pounding his fist on the floor.
That was all he could do.
His helplessness, his inability to put up even the slightest fight, weighed heavily on his heart like chains holding him in place.
Henryk didn't know how death hadn't overtaken him yet. Even though he came from a family of atheists, he slowly began to wonder.
"Maybe I'm already dead..."
These words somehow sent suggestions into his head, and he died. There's no denying that the young man wasn't a good person. In truth, there were few truly kind and good people in the world. If hell truly existed, then that stone chamber where he experienced torture, incredible hunger, and pain was, in fact, his punishment.
"If this is truly hell, I'll get out of here," Henryk said to himself through gritted teeth. Blood was dripping from his mouth. "I'll strangle that fucking fat bastard who did this to me, burn his house down in front of him, torture him until he begs for death, and then I'll KILL him!"
That's right. The only thing keeping him alive at that moment was the desire for revenge against Count Korin, who had started it all. But that wasn't his main goal. What he most wanted was to be able to live peacefully again, free from major problems. That was what he wanted: "Peace and quiet."
"If killing that fucking fat man and his knight is enough for me to find peace, then so be it. I'll go home to my family, but first I'll fucking kill them!"
At that moment, a mad laugh echoed through the stone room. With surprise, after a few moments, Henryk realized the laughter belonged to him, and a wide-eyed, psychopathic smile spread across his face, impossible to shake.
In a few moments, this weak, conflict-avoiding boy was lost in his laughter, which he could not contain.
Henryk began to move his weakened body violently. The chains creaked loudly. He tried to rip the chains from the wall, but they wouldn't budge. He felt a dull pain in his wrists, but he laughed loudly and screamed anyway.
"HA HA! Come on, you dumb bastards! I'm waiting here for you! You want to kill me?! Come and try!"
He didn't care how, but he was certain he would break free from this prison. In his mind, his weak, crumbling mind, he felt pure hatred. He gave in to that instinct. There was no way he would end up here. Although he often wondered if his existence was worthwhile, this time he yearned to live like never before, and he was willing to do anything to achieve it.
"Fuck, kid, can you finally shut up?!" A rough voice that didn't belong to Henryk shouted.
A deep silence fell. As suddenly as Henryk's laughter had started, it faded away. It was so quiet now that he could hear his own heartbeat.
"Who's there?!" asked Henryk, whose face paled, not knowing who the voice belonged to.
"Look closely, I'm in front of you."
Listening to the mysterious voice's instructions, the boy strained his eyes and focused on the other side of the room. Finally, he began to make out a shape. After a moment, he saw the silhouette of a man, or rather, what had once been a man. If Henryk were to describe the appearance of the man sitting against the wall, chained like himself, he looked literally like Gollum. The same emaciated body, the same white skin. The only thing that distinguished the man from Golum was his thick hair, which obscured his eyes.
Henryk looked at the man with a mixture of pity and disgust. This didn't escape the man's notice.
"Don't look at me like that. You think you're the only one that bastard has imprisoned? Well, the answer is, there aren't many of us here." The man who looked like Golum smiled slightly, but it quickly faded. "Great. Since you're quiet now, stay like that and I'll go to sleep."
The sympathy quickly disappeared from Henryk's face and he raised an eyebrow, looking at the man in disbelief.
"Are you a real dude?" the young man asked, unsure. "Or is it just me?"
"Maybe both." The man yawned, leaning his back against the wall. "Maybe you're in a dream, or maybe this is all real and your stupid laugh is bothering me."
"Okay, I understand." Henryk still wasn't entirely sure if the man was real, but decided to talk to him. "So we're not the only ones held prisoner by this fat man?"
The Golum-like man snorted.
"Am I talking unclear, you little brat?" The man's voice was laced with anger and irritation. "I'm trying to sleep here, so kindly shut up!"
Henryk rolled his eyes in frustration. If he were honest, he suspected he wouldn't learn much from this man, but at least he wanted to know who he was trapped with.
"Will you at least tell me your name?" Henryk asked in a tone as if he didn't care at all.
"Oh, not a moment's peace." The man who looked like Golum groaned, sighed deeply, and then replied to the boy. "My name is Someryn. Let me give you some free advice, boy: Save your strength, or you'll die of exhaustion. Now sleep. If it will give me peace from you, I promise I'll answer your stupid questions tomorrow."
"My name is Henryk." He said, not wanting to be called a boy, and then fell silent, not wanting to upset the man any longer.
Unfortunately, he couldn't comply with the man's request to go to sleep; he finally woke up. The young man had to spend the next few hours sitting in silence so as not to wake Someryn, who within moments began to snore.
With such a cellmate, Henryk wondered how he hadn't noticed him sooner. Apparently, he had also witnessed Jarrett torturing him.
As Someryn watched, Henry realized the painful truth: They were in the dungeon, and no one would come to save them. Tears began to spill from his empty green eyes.