(no subject)
Title: I Live in Hell 1/1
Author: Caroline
Genre: Drama
Rating: T
Synopsis: Guy's demons take hold. Set between episodes 1 and 2 of series 3 of the BBC's Robin Hood.
Credits/Disclaimer (If any): Don’t own, just borrowing.
“Do it! End it, please.”
“You want this?”
“I live in hell.”
“Then stay there!”
It was an unusually hot day in Nottingham. The weather had been warm for some weeks, but the sudden, sharp rise in temperature was not welcomed by many.
Guy was still in his bed chambers, recovering from two days of almost constant drinking and lack of eating. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but the sun was high in the sky, so it must have been nearing noon. His room seemed unbearably hot, and he was drenched in sweat, but he wasn’t sure if he could face moving quite yet. He was almost certain that if he did, his head would explode.
He felt his eyes closing again, but now that the alcohol was beginning to wear off his mind would be filled with demons, ghosts and monsters as soon as he fell asleep. Guy didn’t know which pain he’d rather face, the physical or the mental. They both seemed equally horrible.
With some effort, Guy chose to face the consequences of his drinking. He pushed the reason for the drinking out of his mind and focused on keeping the room still as he sat up. The bed clothes clung to his back, sticky with sweat and what Guy thought must have been alcohol. He was overcome with the sudden urge to vomit, but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up.
He sat on the edge of the bed with his head between his knees for some time, occasionally dry retching. His arms were wrapped around his middle, trying to keep the cramps at bay. Once it had subsided, Guy was able to straighten himself. He was aware of the intense, rhythmic throbbing in his head, how dry and gravelly his mouth felt, the moistness of the rest of his body, tenderness in his left cheek and a dull, tight throbbing about his neck. He winced, partly from the pain, and partly because he remembered what had happened in the days before he began to self destruct.
Yet again, he had not succeeded in killing Hood. Another failure, another betrayal, another put down by the Sheriff and another downward spiral into self hatred and depression. After the confrontation, Guy resolved to do what Hood refused to. But he even failed at that. And so he drank. Drank to wash away the pain, drank to numb his brain, drank to try and forget what had happened that day in Acre. He could never forget though. The demons wouldn’t let him. They had begun taunting him incessantly. Not even the monk he confided in had helped.
Guy forced himself to stand up, but he was overcome with dizziness which made him fall to knees. With a groan, he managed to get back upon his feet, more slowly this time. He shuffled to the door, and opening it, he was faced with the staircase down to the main hall. He stared at the descent for several minutes, trying to decide whether he wanted to attempt it.
Eventually he began to go down, clinging to the railing for dear life. About halfway down, he noticed some of his servants watching him. They knew better than to try and help him though, so they went back about their business. Once Guy had made it to the foot of the stairs, he stumbled to the front door.
It was much hotter outside than it was in, and Guy’s bare feet felt like they were being stabbed by the rocks on the path. Sweat dripped from the back of his neck, which was plastered with his greasy, knotted hair. The sun was shining on his left arm and shoulder, and the warmth quickly began to feel like burning.
He unconsciously clutched his forearm. Realising what he was doing he let go and looked down at the gnarled scar and remains of a tattoo. He grimaced, remembering the ordeal he’d went through on that day. Whatever the Sheriff poured onto him burned through his flesh, as if it were a red-hot poker. It had taken months to heal, and Guy took a fever when it became infected. He was bedridden for almost a week, and the Sheriff was none too happy that he couldn’t work during that time.
His head was still splitting, and his stomach was still cramping, but Guy was thinking more clearly now. He had to get out of this heat, so he veered off the path and into the woods. It was cooler in the shade, but there was no breeze to compliment it. He headed inwards, occasionally tripping over a tree root or stepping in a hole.
Finally he reached his destination. He used to come here as a child, with his sister. Those were happier times. He sighed. He hadn’t been happy since the demons came. Guy stopped and stared at the water hole. It hadn’t changed a great deal. The vegetation was more overgrown, and the water seemed only slightly murkier than he remembered.
Guy peeled off his breeches, which were clinging to his legs. He left them on the ground as he walked into the cool, somewhat calming water. He waded into the middle of the pond, then, closing his eyes he dropped backwards, submerging himself completely. He considered staying there, but he wasn’t able to keep himself under.
As he floated on top of the water, Guy stared mindlessly up at the sky, which was partly obscured by branches. He was trying to ignore the demons. His usual response was either anger or alcohol, but since neither was present, he turned to sadness and despair.
Tears flowed silently down his face, disappearing into the depths below. The demons watched, encouraging his hopelessness and reminding him of what a failure he was. He felt them pulling him under, and Guy savoured the feeling of being engulfed by the water. He did not struggle as they tugged at his ankles, dragging him closer to the eternal darkness. He was vaguely aware of movement around him. Something else in the water. He felt something grab his arm as his consciousness slipped away.
Author: Caroline
Genre: Drama
Rating: T
Synopsis: Guy's demons take hold. Set between episodes 1 and 2 of series 3 of the BBC's Robin Hood.
Credits/Disclaimer (If any): Don’t own, just borrowing.
“Do it! End it, please.”
“You want this?”
“I live in hell.”
“Then stay there!”
It was an unusually hot day in Nottingham. The weather had been warm for some weeks, but the sudden, sharp rise in temperature was not welcomed by many.
Guy was still in his bed chambers, recovering from two days of almost constant drinking and lack of eating. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but the sun was high in the sky, so it must have been nearing noon. His room seemed unbearably hot, and he was drenched in sweat, but he wasn’t sure if he could face moving quite yet. He was almost certain that if he did, his head would explode.
He felt his eyes closing again, but now that the alcohol was beginning to wear off his mind would be filled with demons, ghosts and monsters as soon as he fell asleep. Guy didn’t know which pain he’d rather face, the physical or the mental. They both seemed equally horrible.
With some effort, Guy chose to face the consequences of his drinking. He pushed the reason for the drinking out of his mind and focused on keeping the room still as he sat up. The bed clothes clung to his back, sticky with sweat and what Guy thought must have been alcohol. He was overcome with the sudden urge to vomit, but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up.
He sat on the edge of the bed with his head between his knees for some time, occasionally dry retching. His arms were wrapped around his middle, trying to keep the cramps at bay. Once it had subsided, Guy was able to straighten himself. He was aware of the intense, rhythmic throbbing in his head, how dry and gravelly his mouth felt, the moistness of the rest of his body, tenderness in his left cheek and a dull, tight throbbing about his neck. He winced, partly from the pain, and partly because he remembered what had happened in the days before he began to self destruct.
Yet again, he had not succeeded in killing Hood. Another failure, another betrayal, another put down by the Sheriff and another downward spiral into self hatred and depression. After the confrontation, Guy resolved to do what Hood refused to. But he even failed at that. And so he drank. Drank to wash away the pain, drank to numb his brain, drank to try and forget what had happened that day in Acre. He could never forget though. The demons wouldn’t let him. They had begun taunting him incessantly. Not even the monk he confided in had helped.
Guy forced himself to stand up, but he was overcome with dizziness which made him fall to knees. With a groan, he managed to get back upon his feet, more slowly this time. He shuffled to the door, and opening it, he was faced with the staircase down to the main hall. He stared at the descent for several minutes, trying to decide whether he wanted to attempt it.
Eventually he began to go down, clinging to the railing for dear life. About halfway down, he noticed some of his servants watching him. They knew better than to try and help him though, so they went back about their business. Once Guy had made it to the foot of the stairs, he stumbled to the front door.
It was much hotter outside than it was in, and Guy’s bare feet felt like they were being stabbed by the rocks on the path. Sweat dripped from the back of his neck, which was plastered with his greasy, knotted hair. The sun was shining on his left arm and shoulder, and the warmth quickly began to feel like burning.
He unconsciously clutched his forearm. Realising what he was doing he let go and looked down at the gnarled scar and remains of a tattoo. He grimaced, remembering the ordeal he’d went through on that day. Whatever the Sheriff poured onto him burned through his flesh, as if it were a red-hot poker. It had taken months to heal, and Guy took a fever when it became infected. He was bedridden for almost a week, and the Sheriff was none too happy that he couldn’t work during that time.
His head was still splitting, and his stomach was still cramping, but Guy was thinking more clearly now. He had to get out of this heat, so he veered off the path and into the woods. It was cooler in the shade, but there was no breeze to compliment it. He headed inwards, occasionally tripping over a tree root or stepping in a hole.
Finally he reached his destination. He used to come here as a child, with his sister. Those were happier times. He sighed. He hadn’t been happy since the demons came. Guy stopped and stared at the water hole. It hadn’t changed a great deal. The vegetation was more overgrown, and the water seemed only slightly murkier than he remembered.
Guy peeled off his breeches, which were clinging to his legs. He left them on the ground as he walked into the cool, somewhat calming water. He waded into the middle of the pond, then, closing his eyes he dropped backwards, submerging himself completely. He considered staying there, but he wasn’t able to keep himself under.
As he floated on top of the water, Guy stared mindlessly up at the sky, which was partly obscured by branches. He was trying to ignore the demons. His usual response was either anger or alcohol, but since neither was present, he turned to sadness and despair.
Tears flowed silently down his face, disappearing into the depths below. The demons watched, encouraging his hopelessness and reminding him of what a failure he was. He felt them pulling him under, and Guy savoured the feeling of being engulfed by the water. He did not struggle as they tugged at his ankles, dragging him closer to the eternal darkness. He was vaguely aware of movement around him. Something else in the water. He felt something grab his arm as his consciousness slipped away.