Bone-shattering wasn't the word for it. Beneath that invisible pressure, Ajab's eyes widened, reddening as they bulged, and the mere thought of lifting his head felt like an unforgivable crime against the laws of nature. The floor beneath his face offered no mercy—it didn't sink, didn't soften, didn't yield. If it had, maybe his face wouldn't have felt so horribly flattened. His hands were no better: one palm planted awkwardly ahead of his face, the other twisted behind him, knuckles facing downward in a grotesque angle, yet even that distortion wasn't spared as the crushing force consumed it.
No air escaped his lungs, and no words could follow. He was locked in place beneath that weight — that mountain of merciless force. Agony stripped his face of expression; it froze there, emptied under the relentless crushing pressure. If it continued, he knew with dreadful clarity that he would be flattened, reduced to something unrecognizable.
