They drag my body towards the pit.
I don’t want to go. I knew, when I made the decision, what they would do to me if I failed, and it was the strongest reason to turn back: the pain, the terror, my body forming into something bestial and wrong - despite my convictions, if I knew it would come to this, I would have fled.
I’m standing over the pit now, if it can truly be called “standing” when my body is so held by others, as it is now.
Fiction
Drider