Questioning

The floor was hard and made of concrete.  His hand felt like one of a monster.  His screaming was one of a demon.  My mind was so lost I couldn’t even concentrate to understand his words; rather I could only concentrate on the beatings.  Not only was I dazed and confused, but I kept contemplating as to why I would sell my soul.  “Was my life really that far down the gutter?”  These thought kept running through my mind endlessly.  I then become so focused on solving this mystery as to why I would sell my soul rather than feeling the beatings that occur during interrogations.  “What lead me to this solitude,” “Why am I here,” “Did I really sign that contract to sell my soul,” “Is my dreaming so deep that it feels like it’s in reality.”  The questions are endlessly running through my mind and I feel like I only have so long before this demon of a man knocks me out unconsciously. 

The End

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