Wishmaker Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Read chapter 5 of Wishmaker by Larch on NovelPedia.

Blink. Opening his eyes, Valentine woke up from his slumber with a somber expression. His lips parted, but no sound came out. Only the faint feeling of his lips cracking echoed inside his mind. "....." The ceiling was dark; the color of oak that blended in with his surroundings seamlessly as his eyes drifted along the lines separating each segment of planks above his head, slowly making their way towards the wall in a zigzag pattern. He didn't have anything particularly interesting in mind, only passing thoughts that dispersed as he blinked with his heavy eyes, taking yet another breath. There was nothing else to watch inside the room, no furniture to look at, no people to speak with, and no way to leave this place except for a single door that stood quietly at his side, locked tight with no drawer he could find a key in again. "..." With his mouth shut tight, Valentine felt his throat burning. It felt like he hadn't drunk water for days, with his lips already cracking and his body void of any strength to stand on its own. Maybe it was a few days that passed since he was unconscious; his body didn't feel as if it were connected to him at all, just a shell he sat in while awaiting something to crack its brittle surface. His shaky gaze, which was drifting across the room without much purpose, soon landed on himself, glued to the bandages wrapped around his limbs. He stared at it for a long time, wincing with his gaze. He looked broken, with limbs twisted in ways one could not comprehend, ending up with bandages wrapped around them so tightly that he could somewhat feel himself moving while being in place. They were all across his body like armour, hiding every corner of his skin from his chest down to his toes that couldn't as much as twitch with his thoughts. It was stuffy, but comfortable. Yet it made him feel trapped. With a haggard breath, he mumbled in surprise. I'm... Alive? Cough! Cough! As he coughed up blood, his lips finally tasted some liquid; albeit disgusted by drinking his own blood, he couldn't think of another solution to satiate his thirst. He swallowed his blood mixed with saliva, grimacing at how much it hurt to do so. Somewhat regaining their color, which was dull yet vivid beneath a crimson coating, his lips opened for his first words to come out as clear as day. "Fuck, it hurts." The cough made his head feel as if it were about to burst from pain. His eyes flickered with life but soon returned to their previous color, which was a vibrant blue. Each tiny movement of his body sent a jolt of pain rushing through his skull as if screaming not to worsen his critical condition any further. The last thing he remembered was running out into the forest, escaping the cabin and the man who kidnapped him before falling through the bushes down a cliff. How did I survive? He clearly remembered how far the cliff he fell from was during his fall; it was somewhere around twenty- no, thirty floors high. There was no way he could have lived. No... No one could survive that fall, especially when falling headfirst. He looked around the room one more time, feeling a sense of déjà vu as he scanned everything inside the room, which was just him and his bed. It looked exactly like the one he woke up in hours ago. No! "Ugh!" As he tried to stand up, his body, held together with bandages, stopped listening to him. Not being able to show signs of resistance, with only his head moving freely yet clearly with some difficulty. I... I'm back here again! He couldn't believe it. No, he didn't want to believe it, trying to thrash and show signs of resistance. Did he wake up when I was trying to escape the forest? Otherwise, there's no other way for me to still be alive and all the way back here... He swallowed hard as his thoughts made his head ache. The pain of trying to move made him tired, forcing his mind to doze off even though he slept for who knows how long. All this time he spent in that forest was gone to waste; it might not have be