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The Ending of the Nightmare

  Pain wasn't just a part of my life—it was my life. It clung to me like a second skin, so tightly wrapped around me that I couldn’t tell where it ended and I began. Every breath burned, every thought fractured under its weight. Days, nights—they’d blurred together long ago, lost in the cold steel of this place. Agony was my only companion.

  The shard of glass bolted to the wall was cracked, its surface shattered in jagged lines. I’d tried to destroy it more than once, pounding my fists against it until my knuckles bled. But no matter how many times I struck, the tiny mirror refused to vanish. It stayed, broken but not gone, a cruel reminder of the face staring back at me. The black streaks of paint ran like tears down hollow cheeks, and the cracked blood-red smile stretched wide. A grotesque parody of joy. A permanent jester.

  Then it came. That sound. The slow, deliberate scrape of metal on metal. My stomach twisted, and I pressed myself into the corner, wishing for invisibility. Not again. Please, not again. But hope was a useless thing here.

  The door creaked open, and he stepped inside, his silhouette cutting a dark shape against the blinding fluorescents. The red glint of his mechanical eyes found me instantly. I bit down on the scream building in my throat. Screaming only fed his delight.

  "You look ready," he said, his voice flat, lifeless. But beneath it, I caught that familiar note of something worse—his sick pleasure.

  He dragged me from the cell, his grip cold and merciless. My nails scraped against the steel floor as I thrashed, but the sounds of my struggle were drowned out by his mutterings. He spoke to no one—his words sharp, clipped, carrying an air of unhinged fascination. “Perfect symmetry in chaos… Yes, the applications are boundless. Boundless! It’s the corpus against the soul—division and synthesis all at once…”

  He’s lost in his own madness. The thought chilled me even more than his touch.

  I kicked and clawed, each futile attempt feeding the fire of his ramblings. “Oh, what a masterpiece—no, a revelation!” His laughter—low and guttural—sent shivers down my spine. I bit back my screams, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

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  The table waited for me, sterile and cold. I clawed and kicked, but his assistants never faltered. Every time it was the same, and every time I wondered if this would be the last. Was I dying, or had I already died? There was no way to tell anymore.

  But this time, something was different.

  The fire came without warning—a wild, roaring beast that shattered the fragile order of my nightmare. Smoke filled the air, acrid and choking, and the walls groaned under the heat. Chaos. Beautiful, unpredictable chaos. The flames danced, consuming everything they touched, and for the first time, I saw hesitation in the assistants’ perfect, mechanical movements.

  The straps loosened, and instinct took over. My body moved before my mind caught up. I bolted, bare feet skidding on the icy floor, the heat licking at my heels. My lungs burned with smoke, but I didn’t stop. Don’t stop. Keep moving.

  The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, twisting shadows clawing at me from the walls. But it wasn’t the fire I feared—it was them. The pounding of metal footsteps, the grinding of gears—they were coming for me.

  That’s when I saw him.

  A crumpled figure lay ahead, framed by the hellish glow of the flames. Wings—tattered, broken things—twitched weakly, and soot clung to the soft fur that lined his body. His chest heaved, shallow and uneven, and when his eyes opened, their violet glow froze me in place. Pain. Terror. Desperation. I saw it all, and it cut through me like a blade.

  I stumbled forward, my legs trembling. My mind screamed at me to keep running, but my heart betrayed me. Don’t stop. Don’t look. Save yourself. And yet, I reached out, my hand trembling.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice cracked, barely audible over the roar of the fire. The words felt like poison on my tongue, but I forced them out. I hesitated for just a heartbeat longer, long enough for the guilt to sink its claws in.

  Then I ran.

  The heat closed in around me, smoke stealing the air from my lungs, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. My tears vanished into the ash, but they couldn’t wash away the weight of his gaze, the hollow ache it left behind. His glowing eyes followed me, seared into my memory.

  And no matter how far I ran, I knew I’d never escape them.

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