#ROTATING THJS IN MY BRAIN FOREVER BYEEE

[sadistpet]

<< happy sunday. raikov moaning in your muses mouth while they sloppily make out and he begs them to fuck him. ok? >>

It was just a dream, but the possibility keeps him alive. Possibility keeps him here, listening to their American nonsense, babbling about whatever secrets they can tease from his old flesh. Easily, he can tear down these walls and go about his way, and then… what, exactly?

It was the money, you fool. Everything became possible when that bastard choked, and you found it.

He may no longer be a man of means, but the world must think he is dead, a smug notch for that filthy dog’s belt while the elite vultures of the world picked over the greatest prize of them all — that damned microfilm and everything that came with its impossible wealth. Should he have left this place, he would have nothing but the presence of the dead, a living ghost. A clean slate, perhaps.

Not with a face like mine.

But, that was alright; fear was delicious. His face would evoke more than fear when he found him again. Possibility. Beyond these walls, beyond whatever containment they thought could hold him, he knew he was out there. If he could not run his fingers through those silvery locks again, he would bless his sun-bleached bones. Hell would not come to claim him until, in this world, he knew.

Nude and curled on the insulated floor of his cell, he squinted up at the sickly, sterile light that signified “daytime” hours and then defiantly tucked his face back into a massive arm. It was endless boredom punctuated by spikes of anxiety and pain, a tiny space colored by a mockery of day and night cycles, leaving him to electrically-frayed watercolor dreams of the time before, and the feeble future he imagined after this.

Vanya.