The Slave Vengeance

Behind The New Mask

After then, I had no idea what had taken place—even though it was the middle of the night and completely dark, I did not transform into my wolf form. There was a peculiar wail, and the voices of many different kinds of insects could be heard all about.

I was knocked unconscious after being struck by a car.

After opening my eyes, I noticed that I was in a different location, and that was all of the information that I could remember from before. I have no idea how I should be feeling right now; I don’t feel at ease, but at the same time, I have a sense of security now that Zavier isn't here.

I let out a huge breath, and then I noticed that someone had opened the door. A man dressed in a doctor’s outfit entered the room, and I came dangerously close to getting out of bed. He was wearing glasses, and he noticed that tears were dripping from my eyes.

“I was listening to all of your yelling in the middle of the night, dear.” He says these things with a troubled tone, and his eyes are blinking rapidly as they are fixed on me. It seems I’m in good hands as of right now, so I don’t even feel embarrassed about anything.

“I have no idea what's going on. . .” I mumbled and attempted to stand up, but a woman shoved me. It appears that she is dressed in a nurse’s uniform.

They all gave me the creeps.

“What in the world are you doing?! It’s time for me to leave!” I screamed, and they observed that both hands were trembling, which was a sign that I was terrified.

I have the impression that they are analyzing the fact that my life exists.

“You’re insane,” the woman says. “I see you’ve been abused. . . You’ve been traumatized until now. We can’t let you until you calm down.” she added, her voice solemn and profound. I didn’t even think she was being solemn, but she does.

“Please, just don’t!” I told them. “Don’t act as if I’m crazy or need to check myself into a psychiatric institution. That does not describe me at all!” I added—I was stuttering and that my words were breaking, and that I was having trouble speaking coherently.

“Calm down, okay? This is where I shine. I scrutinize you. . . I can see that you have been subjected to abuse. We wanted to be of assistance to you, and we were curious about your identity—”

I interrupted her, “Dianthe,” I wasn’t even afraid, much alone taking her comments seriously. I required assistance at this very moment. I’m giving it some thought right now.

Right at this particular instant.

“You can’t help me,” I hushed and laughed at the exact moment as I said it to play down the possibility that they could be of assistance.

“You can’t change my identity,” I stated; those words that came to my mind were something I regretted. I don’t think that’s a good idea, but I desire to do it.

I desired to alter the person that I am. . .

The three of them exchanged eyes with one another and smirked in unison in response. They aren’t even afraid or surprised by the words that physically came out of my mouth, but they are stunned that I said them.

The answer appears to be impossible.

"I’m sorry, but you just can’t do that, can you. . .?" I uttered.

The man spoke with self-assurance as he explained, “And this is our first time hearing the words of someone who seemed to belittle the things that we are capable of doing.” He seemed to know what to do with the woman, but I didn’t know how to move on with what I should think about it.

“What are your thoughts on—”

“I'll proceed. . .” I mumbled, effectively shutting off the woman’s speech as the agreement. If they are a bad guy, nothing will happen if I risk this face, but then I will have to say goodbye to myself.

——

“What exactly are you planning to do with Kelvin?” Zavier asked. I’m at a loss for words because I can feel my voice shaking, and I don’t know how to respond to him. I know the exact response I should give, but I am keeping my mouth shut because I knew he wouldn’t believe me, regardless.

“Zavier, that is just a lighthearted chat that I'm having with him—”

“And who the f**k are you to try to strike up a conversation with my beta in such a casual setting? An m... I know that wasn’t merely a passing remark, Dianthe.” He cut me off, which made me angry and made me cringe too much.

My eyes rolled in my head. “Zavier, you have no right to address me in such a manner. You are aware that we are not participating in any other activity! Would it be possible for you just give me some of your time sometimes—”

He hit me; I was unable to complete the sentence that I had been working on. It was too complicated, and it made the apples of my cheeks turn crimson; additionally, I could feel the anguish that he brought to me. I choked up, could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, and prepared to bolt away, but he grasped hold of my hand instead.

“Don't you even think of going, Dianthe!” I cried because the agony was so bad, and I couldn’t do anything to get him to leave because he made fun of me, pulled my hair, and slammed my head against the wall.

He tore all of my clothes off of me.

“There is nothing more to you than a s*x slave, Dianthe. . . I had complete control over you like a toy, and I could play with you regardless of the time of day or night. The only purpose your mouth serves is to serve my desires and please me. Not to speak up!”

I have sobbed my eyes out, and suddenly, I am brought back to reality. I had a dream about what happened, which was something between us, and it kept coming back to my mind. I can pick up a whiff of him.

I feel like he’s manifesting me.

I’m losing my mind.

“You're awake,” A man spoke. He turned his attention to his left and noticed a woman standing there.

I don’t remember the specifics of what took place, but I realized that this is what I’ve been doing. I then realized that I had instructed them to conceal my true identity.

“Dianthe, what new name do you want to use?” He inquired.

I felt nervous. Following the procedure, my face is covered in what feels like mascara. I can feel it. They figuratively made significant alterations to the situation—the same as if I were to change my identity.

“Delilah Berkly,” I mumbled in a low voice.