The cold stung her skin like tiny needles.
Metal cuffs bit into her bloodied wrists, too tight, cutting deeper each time she moved.
She didn't bother struggling anymore.
What was the point?
Her body was broken.
Her heart?
Already rotting.
The walls around her were splashed in dried blood, the floors sticky with gore. She could smell death in the air—thick, coppery, sharp. Something growled in the dark, claws scratching along metal.
A reminder: she wasn't alone.
There were monsters in this lab. And she was the bait.
She used to be afraid.
Used to scream, plead, sob.
But now, she was just tired.
So damn tired.
Her name was Aurora Dusk, once a top student, once someone who dreamed of love, family, and peace.
Now?
She was just a discarded tool—used and tossed away like garbage.
She laughed. The sound was dry, cracked, almost feral.
"So this is what I was worth to them..."
Her thoughts drifted to their faces.
