Pain

• Jackson Farrugia, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2021

I wish…for death. For death on myself, but not because I hate myself, but because I can no longer endure this excruciating pain I have suffered. My will to live has been broken like the spirit of a mustang is broken by a cowpoke. As I am hauled along the sharp rocks on the coarse, dirt road, I feel my blood-soaked clothing tear, exposing my wounds to the filthy, disease-ridden track. Burning blisters begin to bubble on my bony ankles, the ankles that are tethered together by the loop of the lasso held in my captor’s hand. I feel it is as if my pride as a man is being stripped away from me as these uncontrollable tears stream down my bruised and bloody face. The thunderous echo of galloping hooves drowns out the soothing songs of passing birds and the shrill shrieks of hunting coyotes. What did I, an honourable, upstanding rancher do to deserve this cruel punishment I am facing? My desperate cries for help are only met with hysterical laughter. Do they find this funny? Do they find pleasure in torturing an unarmed, defenceless man? I cannot know for sure, but the expressions on their faces convince me to believe so.
The horses come to a swift, unanticipated halt, hurling my motionless body through the air like a ragdoll. Confused as to where I have been taken, I begin to survey the land encompassing my position. I see nothing but a lonely, run-down shack surrounded by decrepit, yellow-stained canvas tents and a vast array of dense, towering trees. My captors dismount their horses. I count five of them, all wearing grubby, unwashed clothing that appear to be riddled with holes. “Bring ‘im over ‘ere and tie ‘im up,” bellowed the man that I can only assume is the leader of this unlawful gang of outcasts. The man wielding the lasso attached to my ankles begins to approach me in a slow, intimidating manner, with a mad, murderous mien on his face. Terrified, I roll onto my stomach, and claw my fingers into the rich, dampened soil in which I lay on. Using my feeble, mutilated arms I struggle to drag my incapacitated body along the earth below me. Finally, the man reaches me; I can sense his fiery gaze burning into my soul. Petrified, I halt my escape attempt in fear of what the horrific repercussions may be. In one swift motion, the man grasps my hair, and once again, begins to drag me along the ground. My will to fight has been abolished and my ability to move any of my limbs along with it. Suddenly, my eyelids too begin to feel as heavy as lead and start to close. I fight, but it’s not enough; finally, I submit, and seal my eyes shut, at last freeing me from the excruciating pain I have suffered.