The medical examination room felt like a tomb.
I sat on the cold metal table in a paper gown that crackled every time I moved, watching Dr. Kim prepare instruments that belonged in a horror movie rather than a hospital. Needles, scalpels, some kind of drill with attachments I didn't want to think about.
"We'll start with basic blood work," she said without emotion. "Genetic markers, antibody levels, cellular composition. Then move to tissue samples from various organs."
"Tissue samples while I'm conscious?"
"The subject's pain responses are part of the data we're collecting. Anesthesia would compromise the results."
Subject. Not patient. Not even prisoner. Just another lab rat for Damien's experiments.
The door opened, and Damien entered carrying a tablet and wearing the same pleasant smile he'd used when he first found me in the ruins of my childhood home.
"How are we feeling, darling? Ready to contribute to scientific advancement?"
"Go to hell."
