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Apr. 5th, 2011 01:53 amPain is in the mind.
He knew. A moment before it came, Arthur knew. Then it all happened at once. The loud report of the gun, echoing in his inner ear even as something else entirely blotted it out all together. Pain. Sharp and tearing, ripping through ligament and bone, leaving the skin ripped open as blood splattered outward from entering and exit, tiny droplets tinged with tissue that hit the silk trousers of the men holding him on his feet, soaking in even as strong hands kept him on his feet.
Maybe he hollered out, maybe he didn't. Arthur wouldn't make himself stop, not wanting to, not wanting to give that satisfaction though his skin was suddenly clammy, paler than it had been a moment before, and there was more to come as the shooter circled him, speaking to the one watching, the one most hurt by Arthur's pain.
Pain is in the mind, and judging by the decorum we're in your mind, aren't we, Arthur?
The watcher moved, swift and sudden. Even as the mind took over, fighting to the numb the pain, blessed oblivion came in the form of a bullet to the brain. In those last moments before he died in the dream, dying to awake in the real world, Arthur felt just one thing. Relief.
Just as he had when Mal had tortured him in a dream and Cobb had been forced to kill Arthur to save him from the pain. Except it wasn't Cobb saving him this time. This time it was Dominic that held the pistol to Arthur's head, smug and arrogant, circling Arthur as he prepared for the next shot. Cobb that held Arthur at bay, kept him from moving away no matter how much he struggled.
Cobb who stared wide eyed at Ariadne as she fired that killing blow, saving Arthur from the pain, saving him from Cobb, saving him from himself.
He knew. A moment before it came, Arthur knew. Then it all happened at once. The loud report of the gun, echoing in his inner ear even as something else entirely blotted it out all together. Pain. Sharp and tearing, ripping through ligament and bone, leaving the skin ripped open as blood splattered outward from entering and exit, tiny droplets tinged with tissue that hit the silk trousers of the men holding him on his feet, soaking in even as strong hands kept him on his feet.
Maybe he hollered out, maybe he didn't. Arthur wouldn't make himself stop, not wanting to, not wanting to give that satisfaction though his skin was suddenly clammy, paler than it had been a moment before, and there was more to come as the shooter circled him, speaking to the one watching, the one most hurt by Arthur's pain.
Pain is in the mind, and judging by the decorum we're in your mind, aren't we, Arthur?
The watcher moved, swift and sudden. Even as the mind took over, fighting to the numb the pain, blessed oblivion came in the form of a bullet to the brain. In those last moments before he died in the dream, dying to awake in the real world, Arthur felt just one thing. Relief.
Just as he had when Mal had tortured him in a dream and Cobb had been forced to kill Arthur to save him from the pain. Except it wasn't Cobb saving him this time. This time it was Dominic that held the pistol to Arthur's head, smug and arrogant, circling Arthur as he prepared for the next shot. Cobb that held Arthur at bay, kept him from moving away no matter how much he struggled.
Cobb who stared wide eyed at Ariadne as she fired that killing blow, saving Arthur from the pain, saving him from Cobb, saving him from himself.
