WILL I EVER BE NORMAL? (ZANYA)
717 Words
That was intense.
Someone was following me. But I didn’t know who.
It might have been a creeper. Or lackeys from him.
I was just happy I got home safe and sound without being mauled.
The mission from last night was taking a toll on my body and mind. And I guess I was also thankful that the pill made me black out so I didn’t remember the gory details.
But that didn’t make me any less guilty.
It’s like doing something terrible without knowing how or when you did it—but knowing you did it.
That was his goal.
To make me feel disgusted with myself. To make me see myself as a lowlife. But I guess that’s exactly what I was.
I headed toward the bathroom, desperate to wash away the filth I felt in my bones when the doorbell rang.
My body reacted instantly. Muscles tensed. Fingers twitched toward the dagger hidden behind the picture frame.
I moved toward the door and checked the peephole.
No one.
A prank?
My fingers itched against the wood, hesitating.
I cracked the door open just a little, glancing around.
The hallway was empty. Silent.
Except for the brown parcel at my doorstep.
A package?
A cold feeling settled in my stomach as I bent down, snatching it up before slamming the door shut and bolting it.
I placed the parcel on my small dining table, staring at it like it might explode.
No name. No return address.
I ran my fingers over the wrapping. Expensive. Deliberate.
Swallowing hard, I tore the paper away.
Inside was a black velvet box.
My breath hitched as I lifted the lid.
A silver dagger rested on black silk, its handle crafted with intricate, swirling engravings.
Deadly. Beautiful.
A note lay beside it.
"For protection. But we both know you don’t need it. - D"
D?
I didn’t know any D.
My pulse pounded.
How did they know where I lived?
Who the hell was watching me?
I slammed the box shut, my breathing uneven.
I needed a shower.
Needed to scrub my skin until I felt clean again.
But as soon as I stepped into the bathroom, a familiar wave of exhaustion hit me.
I barely made it to the bed before my body gave in, dragging me into a nightmare I could never escape.
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Darkness. Cold metal. Screams.
The smell of blood thick in the air, mixing with the sharp scent of antiseptic.
"She’s still conscious. Increase the dosage."
I tried to move, but the straps held me down. Cold, unyielding steel biting into my wrists and ankles.
The first injection burned through my veins like liquid fire. The second one numbed the pain. The third? It made me forget what it meant to feel human.
"How long has she lasted?"
"Four hours under the serum. She’s progressing."
Progressing. Like I was some kind of lab rat.
The others hadn’t survived. Their screams had faded one by one until silence was all that remained.
But I survived.
Because I was perfect.
They made me stronger. Faster. More obedient.
"Again."
A man stood over me, his face blurred by the overhead light.
He held a knife. Slowly, he pressed the cold blade against my arm.
"If you scream, you fail."
I clenched my jaw as the steel sliced through my skin. Warm blood trickled down my arm.
But I didn’t scream.
"Good girl."
The blade moved lower, carving a lesson into my flesh. One I would never forget.
No emotions. No weakness.
"Again."
Pain. Blood. More pain.
The whip cracked. My skin split. My back arched off the table. But I didn’t make a sound.
Because if I did, they’d punish me worse.
Because if I did, I’d fail.
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I gasped awake, choking on air, hands fisting the sheets.
Tears streaked my face. My heart pounded violently in my chest.
The past was still inside me. Crawling under my skin.
I buried my face in my hands.
Would I ever be normal?
Would I ever be anything more than a monster created in a lab?
The box on the table seemed to mock me.
A gift. A warning. A message.
I didn’t know who D was.
But he knew me.
And that terrified me more than anything.
.
- Writer
