Shattered mirrors
1444 Words
Nova sat in the center of the sterile room, her arms hugging her knees, her head buried in her chest. The cold metal walls pressed in on her, the faint hum of machinery vibrating through the floor. But she couldn’t focus on the sounds anymore. Her world was muffled—distant.
Her body ached from the restraints, but that pain was nothing compared to the emptiness inside her. Who am I? The question circled in her mind, a constant echo, but it was always met with silence. The name Nova, once so familiar, felt like a distant memory now. The name Lilith, forced upon her, felt like a mask. Neither one fit her.
She wasn’t anything anymore.
She used to be someone. She used to know who she was. But now, all she could remember was the electricity coursing through her veins, the storm she had become, the destruction she caused. And Zale. Zale, whose name she clung to like a thread in the storm. But even that was slipping, fading into the dark.
She tried to focus. Tried to push away the numbness that was slowly overtaking her. But it was impossible. Every attempt to hold on to herself felt like it was draining her further, the energy, the life, all slipping between her fingers like sand.
The door to her cell opened with a sharp hiss, like a snake tasting blood, and she didn’t even flinch. She had stopped reacting to everything.
But the figure that stepped inside was impossible to ignore.
Daemon.
Clad in a tailored lab coat smeared with splashes of god-knows-what and gloves he hadn't changed in days, he sauntered in with the swagger of a man who’d forgotten what sanity looked like. His eyes sparkled—no, glinted—with a madness that buzzed louder than the machines around him.
"Knock, knock," he sang, voice dripping in theatrics, arms outstretched like he was presenting a show. "Time for our little therapy session, Lilith."
She didn’t answer.
Daemon let out a breathy laugh, tilting his head at an impossible angle, like a broken doll. “Silent treatment again? Adorable. You know, you really were more talkative before the brainwash soup. But look at you now, all curled up like a question mark.”
He crouched in front of her, inches away, staring into her face with pupils blown wide from either obsession or lack of sleep. “You should be celebrating, sweet thing. You’re becoming something so much more than that empty little girl. You’re... art.”
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The chaos in his voice, the way it danced between a lullaby and a scream, sent shivers up her spine.
“You’ll remember what you were meant to be, Lilith,” he cooed, tracing a finger through the air like he was drawing her fate in invisible ink. “You’ll see. And when you do... we’ll burn this whole damn island down together.”
Her hands clenched harder, nails piercing skin. What was the point anymore?
"Still holding on, huh?" Daemon stood, twirling in place, arms flailing dramatically. "Let’s talk rebirth, shall we? Forget Nova. Forget that fragile, hopeful girl. You’re Lilith now. My divine disaster. My electric goddess of war."
She barely moved. Her soul felt heavier than her body.
Daemon’s smile sharpened into something monstrous. "You’ll forget everything, cupcake. Your memories, your doubts, your stupid little feelings for Beta-boy—ugh. So boring." His voice twisted into venom. "When I’m done with you, all that’ll remain is rage. And power. And chaos."
Her gaze flicked to the small window, the only sliver of light. Still so far away.
"You’ll be mine," Daemon whispered, then burst into a sudden laugh that cracked into a cough. “You think you’re broken now? Darling... this is just the demo version.”
She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping despite her will.
Who am I?
Her mind played the same images—Zale’s eyes, the tremble in his voice, the warmth of his hands. But now even those memories felt like lies.
She wasn’t Nova. She wasn’t Lilith.
She was nothing.
Daemon paused at the doorway, then slowly turned back, eyes gleaming like a beast in headlights.
“You don’t want to be a weapon?” he said with a grin. “Too bad. The world doesn’t get what it wants, princess. It gets what I build.”
As he vanished into the hallway, Nova whispered to the silence, her voice so faint it barely left her lips.
"I don’t want to be anything anymore."
And the walls didn’t answer.
They never did.
The day passed as she sat in silence. Dark the room and darker her eyes. She flinched with every sound, every hum, every c***k. She thought she'd finally be strong. Finally hold power. But she was truly just a doll.
Doll for the sick inhumane bastards.
It wasn't a good moment when she heard someone hit a baseball bat on her metal door.
A shriek left her.
Then came the clink—footsteps that didn’t walk, they swaggered in. The air thickened with perfume and blood and something that smelled like gasoline.
Daemon Gordon had arrived. Again.
His smile entered the room before he did. Lips stretched too wide, as if his mouth had forgotten how far was too far. His hair was messier than usual—dyed white strands sticking out like static. One eye twitched. His gloves were stained. His boots made no sound.
He clapped once—loud. Sudden.
“RISE AND SHINE, RAGDOLL!” he shouted like a gameshow host. “Aren’t you excited? Huh? Huh?! No? Oof, tough crowd.”
Nova didn’t move. Not even a flicker.
Daemon dropped to his knees in front of her like a drunk preacher, dragging a stolen scalpel across his own cheek, slowly, until blood welled up. He didn’t blink. Didn’t wince.
“You know what your problem is?” he whispered sweetly, his voice cracking like glass. “You still think you're human. Ugh. So boring. So last update.”
He leaned in, nose almost touching hers. “But I fixed you. I rewrote you. You’re not Nova anymore. She’s gone. Toast. Deleted from the system.”
He stood abruptly, spinning once with a flourish, throwing his arms open like an artist unveiling his masterpiece. “BUT LILITH!” he howled. “Lilith is divine. Lilith is chaos incarnate. A ticking time bomb. My own little goddess of devastation.”
He kicked over a tray. Metal crashed across the floor. He laughed at the sound like it was music.
Nova blinked slowly.
“Still clinging to silence, huh?” Daemon hissed. “Cute. But silence won’t save you. Your memories won’t save you. Zale sure as hell won’t save you.” He crouched again, tilting his head too far, neck popping audibly. “Project S Beta Azrael, all noble and brooding... makes me sick.”
He snarled Zale’s name like it was poison. “He was supposed to deliver a weapon. Not fall in love with it.”
Nova didn’t move. But her fingers twitched.
Daemon noticed. Oh, he noticed.
He laughed again, quieter this time. More chilling. “There she is,” he whispered, stroking the air beside her cheek. “My precious little storm. Don’t worry. You’ll forget him soon. You’ll forget everything. When I’m done, you’ll burn this lab to the ground and thank me for it.”
He grabbed her chin suddenly, forcing her face upward. Her eyes were glassy.
“Repeat after me,” he whispered, voice coiling like a snake, “I am not Nova. I am Lilith. I am destruction.”
Nothing.
Daemon shook her once—twice. Then laughed again, manic and cracked.
“You don’t need memories, sweetheart. Just instinct. And rage. That’s what I’m feeding you.” He slapped the back of his own neck, mimicking an injection. “Drip. By. Drip.”
He stood up, spun again, then slammed his palm into the wall. The lights flickered. He laughed harder.
“You think this is a cage?” he said, eyes wide. “This is a womb. You’re just molting. Just wait until you hatch, little serpent. Wait until your real skin shows.”
Nova looked at him then. Just a glance. Dull. Hollow.
It was enough to make him grin with sharp teeth.
“I’ll be back,” he said, voice sing-song. “We’ve got work to do. Destiny to write. People to kill.”
Then, just before he walked out, he paused and whispered to the shadows like they were listening too.
“Tick-tock, baby girl. Chaos is coming.”
- Writer
