Annie set the tray down with a clinical thud. She leaned over him, the scent of lavender soap masking something sour and sharp. She read the last paragraph he had written—a scene where the heroine, Misery Chastain, finally saw the light of London after years of captivity.
Paul looked at the pill, then at his mangled legs, and finally at the blank screen. He felt the cold weight of the snow outside and the heavier weight of the woman standing over him. With a shaking hand, he reached for the mouse, highlighted the text, and hit delete. The screen went white. subtitle Misery.1990.720p.BluRay.x264.[YTS.AG]
As she turned and locked the door behind her, Paul began to type. The click-clack of the keys was the only sound in the room, a frantic, rhythmic pulse marking the hours of his golden cage. He wasn't writing a story about Misery Chastain anymore. He was writing his own obituary, one sentence at a time. Annie set the tray down with a clinical thud
The door creaked open. Annie stood there, her silhouette massive and imposing against the hallway light. She held a tray with a bowl of soup, but her eyes were not on the food. They were fixed on the screen. Paul looked at the pill, then at his
Paul shifted his weight, and a sharp, jagged bolt of pain shot from his shattered legs to his hip. He gasped, his fingers trembling over the keys. Beside him sat a single glass of water and a small, white pill—the only thing keeping the screaming nerves in his legs at bay.
I was just thinking, Annie, he whispered, his throat dry. The ending... it needs to be right. For Misery.