People often say that power comes in parts.
They often say to get stronger, one must first endure.
And enduring I am.
All I am every doing is enduring.
It has been the same routine almost every day. Wake up, be given breakfast, be experimented on, sometimes pass out, wake up, lunch, watch him make another potion, another experiment, another fainting, wake up, dinner, bed.
The cycle went on like an unending doom. It was in a way slowly driving me mad. I couldn't do the same thing everyday, all day. Most days I was passed out more than I'd like. The others day...well I had no idea what he was doing. Some days he just wouldn't appear at all.
It wasn't all pointless however. Watching him get his experiments ready helped me learn. He mumbled often, talking to himself when he stirred his cauldrons. The papers too were left around more often then one would recommend. From them I learned as much as I could.
Originally it was difficult. Most of these things made no sense. His writing and notes seemed to be written in an entirely different language. I spent the small hours I had pouring over those crinkled yellow pages just to figure out what it meant.
I knew the materials was advanced. I had no foundation, no background knowledge. It was like a man who hadn't even learned to read the alphabet trying to master calculus.
A fools errand.
And perhaps I was the fool. The fool for even trying. Yet I didn't step. I put every thinking hour into his potions. I watched as he stirred the cauldron and added the ingredients with a look that bordered on the man's own obsession.
Though my situation now seemed better, it was anything but. His experiments were still agonizing and the pain was dementalizing. However, I did build an immunity to it after a few months. Not an immunity, but a resistance. The pain seemed subdued as if my mind had already accepted it and quietly let go of its sensitivity.
It wasn't a change I particularly enjoyed. I could see myself become more detached and cold as the days passed. Nothing used to excite me anymore. Fear and anxiety seemed to be a thing of the past as all emotion seemed to slip from my fingers. I couldn't tell if it was because of the things that man was giving me or my own seclusion to protect myself.
It wasn't just my personality that was changing however. It was my body too. My nails became longer, taking on a faint sharp gleam that was reflected partly on my canines. My hair got longer, no more the short dirty black that it used to be, but a silky black that glistened like the stars in the night sky. My skin too changed, becoming of a paler almost white vampire like color. My lips too became different and my eyes changed away from their usual green. My left eye turning a burning molten gold color while my right adopted that of a blizzarding white hue.
This I knew had something to do with the potion. What that thing did exactly I didn't know. I didn't understand why I had changed so drastically. Though my change did seem to excite that monster of a man. Though he often mumbled about side effects and the accidental color of my eyes.
Two years passed quicker then I anticipated with the continuous drinking of his potions and his temper that made headway during the most uncanny of times. My emotions had left me, mostly, and my appearance changed little. Though it was more my physique. I felt stronger in a way I couldn't explain. Whether it was my actual physical strength, or the depth of my vision, or the limitless magic that seemed to flow through my veins.
Everything just seemed better.
Today was different however. I was seven now, still relatively small, but packing a punch in my small frame. It didn't take me long to see that today would be a special day. He had brought me a meal far too expensive for anyone living in this part of the Alley to afford. He hadn't even done anything, humming lightly to himself as he stirred the water in a cauldron.
I was given a potion like any other day, but it was different.
Fundamentally different.
I felt my entire being change.
Felt myself become more.
Pain lanced across my back, spreading quickly and becoming more than enough for me to handle. I distantly heard the man scream in distress and panic at the slow closing of my eyes. It was clear to me that he hadn't expected anything to go wrong.
Something ripped open across my back and I felt the heaviness almost tip me backwards. I was different. More beast than man.
The man breathed out in awe and screamed in insanity.
"I'VE DONE IT! MY LIFE'S WORK! I'VE MADE A BETTER HUMAN!" he screamed, excitement clawing through his entire being. He reached out to touch the thing, the wings, that was on my back. I frowned at him and instinctively flapped my large black feather wings.
They slammed into the man and flung him towards a desk and into the wall, destroying the desk and leaving a dent on the wall. Though he bled and clearly should be in pain...he laughed. A boisterous laugh that sent more unease through me than I appreciated.
"AMAZING! THE STRENGTH! THE BEUTY! THE WORLD WILL NOW MY NAME!" He screamed again. An unadultured kind of madness coming through him. He quickly grabbed more of the potion that had just been made. With laughter he grabbed the potion and chugged it down his throat. I watched in horror as he changed.
Though his was different.
He screamed.
A painful scream.
His nails elongated and turned into a hideous black. Veins bulged out from his skin, turning purple. Literal fangs formed inside his mouth and small scales appeared on his skin. The skin retracted, turning his face into one of a haunting harpy. Leathered wings erupted from his back, blood dripping faintly down as the transformation ripped his shirt off. A snake like tail also emerged from his behind and the man rose into the air, screeching.
"YES! I HAVE TRANSCENDED! I HAVE BECOME A GOD!"
Clearly, the man was an idiot. Yet his apparent foolishness did not help with the horror I experienced as I looked at his new...form. Glancing at the knife he had used to cut phosphorous beans earlier, I lunged. My hands curled around its handle as I sped towards the hideous creature.
The man laughed like I was the naive one and screeched. The sound was magnified at what felt like a thousandfold. My eardrums would have burst from the sound before. But now I merely covered my eyes and slowly shook my head. Though that momentary weakness was enough for the man in front of me.
He lunged, clawing into my skin. I screamed and gripping the knife tightly plunged it into his skin. The knife met resistance at first, like it was made of iron though I twisted and gutted the knife inwards, unwilling to let this man breathe another breath.
The man gasped, shocked at finding the knife inside of him. I pulled it out, stabbing again and again as the man desperately clawed at me. Some of his nails meeting skin and drawing blood, others leaving faint scratches, some so deep that I knew they would never heal.
Yet I didn't stop.
Not until his leathery wings stopped beating and his now blooded and probably appropriately called mutilated body fell onto the creaking brown floor.
Now I had the bloody body of my torturer on the floor at my own hands.
I felt at a loss.
What should I do with this?