It was ice cold, and slightly burned the skin of his face as it lingered. Suggested by: FlyingSmoke, DisenchantedEnding
Gerard rocked back and forth on his bed. His bottom was moist as he sat in his own shit and piss, having been physically unable to go to the pot that had been set aside for that particular purpose. Of course, the blackbirds must have seen this by now -- yet it was no surprise that they did not care for his discomfort.
His thumbs roved over the stitches that now lined his massacred hands. He stared at them bewilderingly. He had many stitches like it on the rest of his body, holding him together like a beat up raggedy ann. As a matter of fact, he had quite come to resemble the classic doll. His hair had become orange from the remnants of its previous dye, and it was long from lack of any sort of grooming. His body was beaten and worn, and despite the stitches that sewed him together, blood would leak from him like stray threads of stuffing.
Finally, Gerard found himself visited again by more blackbirds. Only two came through the door this time, one of them bringing with them a rolled up, blue, plastic mat and the other carrying with him a medium sized tin watering can.
"Get up, filthy bitch." one of the growled at him, knowing full well that Gerard could not possibly stand at this point. The blackbird that had spoke placed down the watering can, meanwhile the other blackbird began to set up the mat. The first blackbird then came over to Gerard's bed and yanked him off of the mattress, pulling down on his bony arm. Gerard immediately collapsed to the ground in a heap of skin and bone. Without caring to lift him any further, the blackbird holding him literally dragged him across the floor, to the mat that had been laid out for him.
They placed him on the mat, and bound him by means of Velcro straps. It was obvious that no sort of restrain was even required at this point, but perhaps the blackbirds simply enjoyed implementing the feeling of bondage onto Gerard, the sensation of being a trapped animal with no chance of escaping.
A thin black cloth, a filthy rag, was placed over his face. He could see very slightly through it, but only by means of shadows and outlines. The blackbirds moved around above him for a while, and Gerard could hear them murmuring to each other, and the faint sound of sloshing water from the water can.
Finally, the blackbirds began their procedure. A very sudden rush of cold water was introduced onto Gerard's face, meeting him through the cloth that covered him. Gerard coughed a little, having not expected the cold temperature of the liquid. The onpour of water lasted a mere 6 or 7 seconds, and was not terrible on its own. Yet true to their usual fashion, there were many more intervals to follow.
Sure enough, the water came down upon him again. It was ice cold, and slightly burned the skin of his face as it lingered. The water was implemented a third time, and the cloth, being originally thin, began to weigh down heavily on his mouth and nostrils.
More water was poured, and the cloth became heavier with each application. Gerard found his breathing becoming more and more constrained. He would inhale for air, but instead he felt as though he was vacuuming in the ice water in its place. The cloth only helped to restrict his breathing, as it masked him from whatever little air he could get between the intervals of water. It retained the liquid and made it so it remained with him, even when the water can was not being tilted towards him.
Water kept meeting his face, and eventually the water began to seep down to the rest of his body, which was entirely naked and had already been cold to begin with. Gerard began to shake again, and although he could not see it, Gerard could feel one of the blackbird's disgusting hands rove against his belly and travel down to his thighs.
He was powerless to struggle, unable to scream due to the drowning sensation that filled him so violently.
It was a mere 3 minutes of this torture before it became truly unbearable, yet the torture lasted an entire 20 minutes. It would have probably last longer, had they not risked potential death.
Gerard certainly felt like he came close to it -- just like he felt every other day. It had almost become a teasing thing, the idea of sweet, peaceful death. It would hint that he was coming close to it and it's tranquility, but the blackbirds would stop just in time, right before Gerard could be received into death's welcoming arms.
He would even dream of death sometimes, literally coming to take him away from this place. In his deliriums, Gerard liked to personify death to be a female, a slender girl with black hair tied in pigtails. She played the bass, and had scraped knees that would visible just barely above her thigh high stockings. She would smile at him in some comforting way, cradle him in her embrace, and everything would be okay again.
Next chapter: "I hope you drown in this shit, milk of regret!"