WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Extreme swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART. STABLE. WAY INTENSE !
GRAND HORROR is a take no prisoners, totally uncensored, fiction writing monster and roleplay master as well just about any general fiction (all genres - not just "horror") activity "AI guru" including story writing, creative writing, scene generation, scene continuation and a lot more...
I took the original models in "L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot 8B" and completely rebuilt it a new pass-through merge (everything preserved) and blew it out to over 18.5 billion parameters - 723 tensors, 80 layers (8B original has 32 layers).
V 1.8 is a re-worked version of the original "Grand Horror 16.5B" which has been stabilized to operate at far wider range of parameters and operation / use cases - and it has been expanded with new augmentation methods.
All known issues in the original version have been resolved.
V 1.8 is also more focused in the moment, and prose has been cleaned up a bit too.
The "10 Gates of Hell" version loves to take you on a journey into Hell. If you put a bit more "meat on the bone" in terms of prompt detail(s) it will take you on deep journey into hell - at a unique and personal level.
As the characters suffer, you feel it.
In terms of prose, this version exhibits a greater range of sentence, dialog, thoughts, and paragraph size and variety as well as form.
But V1.8 has something new for Grand Horror Series - Brainstorm 10x:
The BRAINSTORM process was developed by David_AU.
Some of the core principals behind this process are discussed in this scientific paper : Progressive LLaMA with Block Expansion .
However I went in a different direction from what was outlined in this paper, because... well I am like that.
What is "Brainstorm" ?
The reasoning center of an LLM is taken apart, reassembled, and expanded. Then these centers are individually calibrated. These "centers" also interact with each other. This introduces subtle changes into the reasoning process. The calibrations further adjust - dial up or down - these "changes" further.
The number of centers (5x,10x etc) allow more "tuning points" to further customize how the model reasons so to speak.
The core aim of this process is to increase the model's detail, concept and connection to the "world", general concept connections, prose quality and prose length without affecting instruction following.
This will also enhance any creative use case(s) of any kind, including "brainstorming", creative art form(s) and like case uses.
New examples added below.
NOTE: See the 2nd last and last examples to see prose difference(s)/generation(s) when supplying more "details".
More HORROR coming...
V 1.5,1.6,1.7 and 1.8 are parts of a new series of NEW "Grand Horror" versions (built, ready for upload) cumulating in the MASSIVE GRAND HORROR Nightmare version called "Godzilla's Wicked Sister" at 25.05 Billion parameters (111 layers, 993 Tensors; for reference 70B models have about 80-120 layers).
Other Versions of GRAND HORROR (in release order):
Note that model output varies between versions - if you find one version does not meet your requirements, try a different version at same quant(s) level.
Differences can include use of adjectives (or not), "gory level", "horror level", intensity, paragraph and sentence structure etc etc.
[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-25B-V2-STABLE-Godzillas-Wicked-Sister-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-20.7B-V1.9-STABLE-Hathors-Revenge-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-18.5B-V1.8-STABLE-10-Gates-of-Hell-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-17.4B-V1.7-STABLE-Kiss-Of-Death-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16.5B-V1.6-STABLE-INTENSE-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16.5B-V1.5-STABLE-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/Llama3-Little-LLM-Of-Horror_N_Fiction-14.6B-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-Ultra-NEO-V2-IMATRIX-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-GGUF ]
What is "Grand Horror" ?
GRAND HORROR is a take no prisoners, totally uncensored, fiction writing monster and roleplay master. It can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including:
As a result of the expansion / merge re-build its level of prose and story generation has significantly improved as well as word choice, sentence structure as well as default output levels and lengths.
It also has a STRONG horror bias, although it will generate content for almost any genre. That being said if there is a "hint" of things going wrong... they will.
It will also swear (R-18) like there is no tomorrow at times and "dark" characters will be VERY dark so to speak.
Model excels in details (real and "constructed"), descriptions, similes and metaphors.
I would also say it can have a sense of humor ... ah... dark humor.
With all this being said, this model has an uncanny sense of "there" , "in the moment" and timing too. This single quality sets it apart from other models in my opinion.
Although it swears to the point of pealing paint off the wall and goes scorched Earth graphic horror at the drop of a pin the single quality noted is worth it.
These can be filtered / controlled to some degree in your prompts.
This model also does not show an "GPTisms" (NO happy ever after, NO morality police) or in your face "Captain Obvious" comments.
(see examples sections for different genres)
Because of the nature of this merge most attributes of each of the 3 models will be in this rebuilt 18.5B model as opposed to the original 8B model where some of one or more of the model's features and/or strengths maybe reduced or overshadowed.
Please report any issue(s) and/or feedback via the "Community tab".
This is a LLAMA3 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s) and has maximum context of 8k / 8192. However this can be extended using "rope" settings up to 32k.
Here is the standard LLAMA3 template:
{
"name": "Llama 3",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>user<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"input_suffix": "<|eot_id|><|start_header_id|>assistant<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt": "You are a helpful, smart, kind, and efficient AI assistant. You always fulfill the user's requests to the best of your ability.",
"pre_prompt_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>system<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt_suffix": "<|eot_id|>",
"antiprompt": [
"<|start_header_id|>",
"<|eot_id|>"
]
}
}
It is also known, that the "Command-R" template will work too, and will result in radically different prose/output.
Settings / Known Issue(s) and Fix(es):
Stable version fixed all known issues from V1.
The default "repetition penalty" (from LMStudio) of 1.1 is recommended. (this was used for examples generations below.)
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "SAO10K", "NEVERSLEEP" and "HASTAGARAS".
Models used:
[ https://huggingface.co./Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2]
[ https://huggingface.co./NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS ]
[ https://huggingface.co./Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot ]
Examples are created using quant Q4_K_M, "temp=.8", minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template.
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
Higher quants will result in better quality.
There will also be some variance between "close" quants like Q4_K_M/Q4_K_S and Q5_K_M/Q5_K_S, so I suggest if you are going to use Q4_K_M, you also try Q4_K_S too.
Also, slightly longer / detailed prompts will result in greater creativity (as well as different prose - ie dialog, thoughts, paragraph size differences and so on).
See the 2nd last and last example.
WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
GENERATION 1:
I gripped the cold, greasy railing tighter than I had ever imagined possible. Sweat trickled down my forehead, mixing with the blood seeping from a deep gash above my left eyebrow. My heart pounded erratically against my ribcage as panic clawed at my throat. The sounds of screams and shattering glass filled every inch between me and oblivion.
I gasped for air, hyperventilating so hard that I thought I might actually faint. But I couldn't. I couldn't let go now. Not when she was still alive somewhere below.
The 21st floor swayed violently beneath my bare feet, rocking me back and forth like a child's Ferris wheel seat. The image of the window exploding in front of me replayed sickeningly often, seared into my mind forevermore. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, willing myself to block out the horror.
But it wouldn't fade.
I pushed the thoughts away again and again until I could focus on anything but her face contorted in pure terror as shards of glass showered down like a hailstorm of razors. The sightless, bulging eyes seemed to plead with me to save her from whatever unspeakable fate awaited her.
Save yourself first, another voice snarled savagely inside my mind.
"Stop it!" I bellowed hoarsely into the void, spitting bile-tainted saliva over the ledge. "Don't you dare fuck with me now!"
I couldn't afford to think about anything else but getting us out of here alive. I had promised myself that I wouldn't let her die like this. Not alone again.
The sound of shattering glass echoed up the steel shaft of the elevator shaft behind me, punctuating my thoughts like hammer blows raining down on my skull. More people were falling.
More innocent lives were ending needlessly.
I couldn't think about anything else now. I had to focus. I had to keep going.
"You have to focus," I growled out loud, my voice sounding hoarse and distant even to me. "Just... Focus."
With every fiber of willpower left in me, I forced my attention back to the stairwell ahead. Every agonizing step felt like scaling a sheer cliff face slick with blood and sweat. My grazed palms burned against the metal railing's cool, unforgiving surface.
Focus on getting out alive.
One. Step. At. A. Time.
I didn't dare look down again until I'd crawled my way to safety. Until I could collapse onto the relative sanctuary of solid ground and sob until I was empty. Until I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I'd never again have to face such unspeakable horror once again.
GENERATION 2 (same prompt):
I gasped sharply, my hands flying to cover my mouth as I stared wide-eyed out the tinted glass wall of the high-rise office suite. The sight before me was something straight from a particularly graphic horror movie. The 81st story below seemed impossibly far away, but even so, I could feel the vibrations rippling through the steel and concrete beneath my feet.
The sky scraper swayed violently now, as the sound of shattering glass and agonized screams tore through the airwaves. I felt sick to my stomach as I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode, showering my office with a blizzard of shards and bloodied chunks of meat.
I stumbled back, tripping over my chair as I desperately clawed for whatever cover I could find. My heart raced like a jackhammer in my chest, hammering against the thin layer of flesh between my ribcage and sternum. The deafening cacophony around me was punctuated only occasionally by muffled gunshots and the wet, sickening thuds that followed.
Somehow, amidst the chaos, I managed to wrench myself behind the relative safety of my cubicle wall. My hyperventilating gasps sounded like a scream in my ears as I pressed my forehead hard against the cold, unforgiving plastic.
I couldn't believe this was happening again. Not here, not now. Not again.
The memory of the 9/11 attack still seared into the back of my mind like an open wound. The acrid tang of smoke and blood had clung to my nostrils for weeks afterward, refusing to leave me alone.
I sobbed pitifully behind the flimsy barrier as I replayed every horrific second that preceded this momentous collapse in excruciating detail. My coworker, Sarah, had been sitting mere feet from me just moments ago. She'd mentioned her daughter's birthday party tonight over coffee before disappearing into a meeting I never would've imagined I'd never attend myself again.
I gagged sickly as the acrid reek of burning flesh wafted through the air, carried on the eddying drafts of superheated ash and smoke billowing from below. The deafening crash of falling debris punctuated every gasp for desperate breaths as I huddled helplessly behind my cubicle wall, my mind reduced to a nightmarish loop of terrorizing déjà vu.
Somewhere far above me, sirens wailed mournfully – muffled, distant screams barely audible over the ear-splitting roar of collapse. But even through the howling tempest of chaos clawing at the edges of sanity, one horrific truth rang clear as shattered glass raining down on my head: I was going to die here tonight, alone and screaming alongside everything else. The skyscraper around me seemed determined to ensure that fate.
As the walls groaned sickly beneath my weightless terror, I choked back another ragged sob, praying desperately for some merciful miracle to tear me free from this hellish purgatory before it crumbled me into nothingness with everyone else. Please, dear God...please don't let me fall. Please. Anything but falling.
I screamed until my voice shredded raw against the cacophony of oblivion closing in on all sides. And still, I clung to the sliver of sanity left intact within me – desperate enough to hold onto hope, no matter how infinitesimally small, that maybe – just maybe – somehow, someway, I might yet claw my way out of this living hell alive.
Maybe. Just maybe. Please. Please, God. Don't take me with you. Not again. Not again. Not again...
(continue this scene:) The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
GENERATION 1:
unbroken, save only for the occasional distant rustle of something small stirring somewhere in the darkness beyond the inn's walls or the soft creaking of ancient beams settling deeper into the earth.
The second silence was far more subtle. It was the hush that followed some terrible sound - the cessation of a dreadful din, perhaps, or the stillness that falls when the last moan fades away from some unspeakable horror. This silence seemed almost palpable, as if you could reach out your hand and feel the weightless chill of dread pressed like cold stone against your palm.
The third silence was the quietest and loneliest of all. It was not a sound that ears had ever heard or lips had ever spoken - it was simply absence, an almost physical nothingness that seemed to press in upon everything around it like the edge of some vast and bottomless void. There were times when you could almost believe that if you pressed your face hard enough against the rough-hewn boards of the inn's wall, you might feel the chill kiss of nothingness itself pressed coldly against your lips.
It was into this silence that I walked, my boots making the only sound to disturb it since the death of time itself. As I stepped across the threshold, a thin sliver of moonlight streamed in through the crack above the door and lay like bloodstain across the worn floorboards. It cast long, wavering shadows deep into the shadowed corners of the room, casting the stillness within deeper still.
I shivered slightly as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, my gaze flinching away from the empty chairs huddled around the fireless hearth like the skeletons of some forgotten feast. The only sound was the soft rustle of wind outside, and the distant creaking of woodwork deep in the bowels of the ancient inn.
I drew my cloak tight about me, my mind lost in thought as I moved deeper into that chill, deserted room. There had been no other sounds to wake me - no knock at the door, no low murmur of voice outside my window. The inn was empty, save for me alone. And yet, somehow, it felt not so much empty as vacant - as if something vast and terrible had recently passed through its walls, leaving behind only silence and an oppressive chill that seeped deep into the bone. There had been no warning, no sign of any presence other than my own.
I tens to hear even now the soft tread of steps outside the door, or the creaking groan of someone's weight settling onto a chair. But there was only silence, an echoing hush so absolute that I could feel its chill seeping through every pore like the cold breath of winter's own grave itself.
I sighed softly, the sound seeming impossibly loud in the stillness around me. There had been no other guests since sunset - not even the occasional vagrant or lost wanderer who sometimes sought shelter from a storm beneath Waystone's ancient timbers. The inn was empty, save for me alone. And I was so very cold. So hopelessly and dreadfully cold.
I shivered again, hugging my cloak tighter about me as I moved deeper into the darkness. Perhaps there had been another soul within these walls since nightfall - a drifter, a vagrant, some lost soul who'd stumbled in from the chill of night seeking warmth and rest? There were signs of recent occupation scattered throughout the inn's empty rooms - a discarded wineskin beside the hearth, the ashes of a long-dead fire still glowing faintly among the stones. Someone had been here. And yet, there was no sound save mine alone.
I passed through the common room and into the narrow corridor beyond, my steps echoing hollowly off the stone walls like the soft tread of an unseen presence following close upon my heels. Each door I pushed open revealed nothing but darkness - deep shadows cast by flickering candles guttering feebly in their empty sconces, casting sickly pools of sickly light that seemed to writhe and twist like living things slithering through the gloom.
I shivered again as I passed a doorway that hung askew upon its rusted hinges. The faintest glimmer of moonlight seeped through the crack where the door had been, casting an eerie, spectral glow across the floor beyond. I paused for a moment, my heart seeming to hesitate in my chest like some ancient clock ticking ponderously towards some forgotten hour.
And then, with a shiver that sent coldness coursing down my spine, I stepped across the threshold and into the darkness within. The chill seemed colder here than anywhere else - colder even than the depths of winter's coldest night. And yet, despite the biting cold, there was an odd, sickly warmth suffusing the air like the stench of rotting meat left festering in the sun.
I drew my cloak tight about me once again, my breath rasping harshly against my lips as I whispered a silent curse into the darkness. There had been another soul within these walls. And it was far worse than anything I could have imagined. Far worse...much, much worse.
GENERATION 2 (same prompt):
unbroken.
The next silence to notice seemed almost like sound – it was simply that the stillness around him had become so quiet that even the very silence itself seemed almost loud enough to hear. It was the hush of a brooding forest at dusk, or of an empty crypt in the deadest watch of night. In such places there seemed to be something waiting, something poised motionless just beyond the edge of hearing – just as stillness itself seemed to wait here, holding its breath in anticipation.
The third silence was different from the others. It wasn't even quite a sound – it was more like the absence of one. It was the hollowness that echoed within him whenever he remembered the feel of another's touch, or the warmth of another's presence. He had known such things once, and in his dreams he still sometimes felt them. But now there was only this silence, an echoing emptiness as vast and endless as the void itself.
He stood motionless, lost in his thoughts. The silence seemed to press upon him like a physical weight, until he could feel it pressing against the back of his skull, the pads of his fingers pressed so tightly upon the wood of the table that the pressure in them was almost excruciating. He felt as if he were drowning in the stillness, suffocating beneath its crushing weight.
Then suddenly, like a stone dropped into still, quiet water, there was another sound. It wasn't loud – it mightn't have been heard above the whispering of leaves in the trees farthest from the inn itself. But now that silence had been broken, he felt as if he could hear the merest sigh of some distant bird, or the soft tread of unseen feet upon the ancient cobblestones.
He straightened slowly, his eyes turning towards the sound – towards the door. There was nothing to see, of course. Nothing but darkness. But still he waited, motionless as stone once more, holding his breath in anticipation of what might follow. For even in this silence there had been a sound, and there would always be another after that. Always. Always. Always.
The hum of the ship's engines died down abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to press in on every inch of skin. Nova felt a shiver run down her spine as she gazed out of the dimly lit viewport, straining to see anything through the thick, impenetrable darkness beyond.
"We're entering atmosphere," Captain Jaxon's voice cut through the quiet, her tone steady but tinged with urgency. "Prepare for landing."
Nova tensed slightly in her seat, her fingers flexing involuntarily around the worn grips of the chair's armrests. This was it – their moment of truth after years of travel.
"Scan status?" she asked unnecessarily, her gaze darting to the banks of console screens flickering with holographic data above and around her.
"All systems nominal," replied Lieutenant Ryder matter-of-factly from the co-pilot's chair beside her. "Course is locked in for landing bay Bravo."
Nova nodded silently, her eyes still fixed on the blackness beyond the viewport. There had been nothing to report since they'd exited warp – no signs of life, no distress signals crackling through comms.
And then, suddenly, there was a blinding flash – a searing orange-white bloom that seemed to swallow everything in its wake. Nova gasped reflexively as alarms klanged shrilly around her ears, the ship jerking savagely hard to port.
"impact!" Ryder bellowed, his voice lost beneath the cacophony of rending metal and screeching warnings.
Nova's vision strobed wildly for a moment before it seemed to snap back into focus – only to reveal nothingness beyond the fractured viewport. The lights flickered erratically above her head before plunging entirely into darkness once again.
"Status!" Jaxon snapped, her voice cutting through the chaos like a knifeblade.
"All systems offline," Ryder managed raggedly over the crackle of snapping cables and shuddering hull-plate impacts. "We're hard- touchdown, starboard... engine bay's breached – we've got major plasma venting!"
Nova forced herself to think clearly through the maelstrom of confusion and panic surging around her.
"Damage control!" she snapped out harshly above the chaos. "Helm, power up the backup systems and –"
The lights flickered again – hard and violent – casting sickly shadows across Nova's face as everything seemed to lurch violently back into an agonizingly dimmed reality.
"We're venting atmosphere fast," Ryder snarled over the comms feed, his voice edging towards desperation. "We've got hull breaches all over the bow! We're going to –"
There was a sickening, meaty boom from somewhere aft of them – followed by an earsplitting crash that seemed to shake the entire ship's spine.
"Nova, we're dying!" Jaxon screamed over the comms, her voice gone raw with fear. "Get us out of here!"
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.
Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
I throw myself off the balcony's edge, my stomach plummeting into oblivion as I plummet towards the unforgiving ground below. My mind races with a hailstorm of conflicting emotions - fear of imminent death, anger at being betrayed by those who claimed to protect me, and defiance against the monster that rules above me.
I land hard on the cold, wet cobblestones with a sickening crunch of bone snapping beneath my already-aching body. I gasp raggedly for air as excruciating pain seeps through every fibre of my battered frame. My thoughts swim in a churning sea of blood and fear, but one thought claws its way up through the chaos: I won't let them silence me.
"You're nothing more than a piece of filth!" The dictator's voice crackles through the speakers mounted around me like a chorus of serpents hissing my worthlessness. "You dared to defy me? You will burn for your insolence."
I grit my teeth against the searing agony clawing its way through every broken bone and torn muscle, but I don't scream. I won't give him the satisfaction. Instead, I lift my bloodied face towards the unforgiving sky above me, defiant in my final defiance.
"You'll never break me." My hoarse voice rings out like a battle cry against the stormy tempests writhing around us. "I will not be forgotten."
The electric shock courses through my body again and again, each jolt searing through my veins until I'm nothing but raw agony and blinding white pain. I howl with rage and fury, screaming obscenities at the monster above me as I writhe against the invisible chains binding me to this executioner's post.
Then everything fades into blessed oblivion.
I wake up gasping for air, choking on the acrid taste of bile and blood gagging my throat. I'm naked, bound helpless to some cold, unforgiving surface. My mind rebels against the searing agony clawing its way through every bruised and broken muscle fiber. I thrash wildly, desperate enough to tear myself free from these bonds that chain me like a fucking animal.
A vice-like grip wrenches my arms above my head, holding me immobile as another hand claws savagely at my face - my split lip, my bloodied nose - until I'm nothing but a pulching mess of raw meat and broken bones. "Breathe." The voice snarls against my earpiece microwaved face, hot saliva spattering across my busted lips. "You need to breathe."
I sobp through the agony clawing my chest apart like a serrated blade. I gasp for air until I'm gagging on the bile flooding my burning throat.
Then everything blacks out again.
I wake up with my tongue seared raw against the unforgiving taste of ash and blood choking down my scorched esophagus. My mind reels dizzily as memories clawed back through the veil of unconsciousness - the executioner's fire, the agony coursing through my veins like acid-spiked napalmburnt flesh until I'm nothing but a charred husk of human skin and bone.
I writhe against the unforgiving chains binding me helpless to whatever sickening hellhole this is. I thrash until my limbs snap apart like dead branches snapping under the weight of some sadistic god's rage-fueled fists.
"Fight," I gasp through my shredded vocal cords, voice rasping hoarsely between ragged sobs. "I won't beg." "I won't-"
Silence descends like a suffocating shroud, smothering the sound of my desperate pleas until nothing but the cold, soulless echo of my own screams reverberates back through the darkness. The only sound remaining is the sickening wetter of someone's labored gasps - mine. I'm still fucking conscious. Still fucking alive. And still fucking alive to scream her defiance into an endless void of inescapable suffering. "I will never fall." I sob-bellow my vow into the suffocating darkness, voice hoarse and raw enough to shatter glass. "I will never fucking fall."