*

/ In everyone’s heart there is a darkness lingering inside we can ignore it or we can embrace it/

*

I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I was first thrown into this hell. Time had lost all meaning here. The cold stone walls of my prison felt like they had seeped into my bones, and the darkness that enveloped me felt more like a second skin than the rags I wore. My body, once familiar, was now a stranger to me, a battlefield of constant pain and discomfort.

I tried to ignore the changes at first. When the first wave of pain washed over me, I convinced myself it was temporary, that whatever they were doing would stop soon. But that was a lie. Deep down, I knew it. Every injection they gave me, every experiment they performed, was pushing me further and further from what I used to be.

I wasn’t sure if I was human anymore. And that thought terrified me more than anything.

I sat in the corner of my cell, huddled beneath the thin blanket they had given me. My body trembled uncontrollably, not from the cold, but from the hunger that gnawed at my insides. It had started as a dull ache, but now it was a ravenous beast, clawing at my gut, demanding to be fed. But it wasn’t food I craved. It was something darker, more primal. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing. My hands were pale, too pale. The skin looked thin, almost translucent, and my fingers had grown longer, the nails sharper. I could still remember what they looked like before all of this, how they had felt when I held a pencil at school or ran my fingers through my hair. Now, they felt foreign, like they belonged to someone… or something else.

I bit down hard on my lip, the taste of blood filling my mouth. It wasn’t the first time I had done it, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. The pain helped, in a strange way. It grounded me, reminded me that I was still here, still me. But even that small comfort was slipping away. I could feel it, little by little, like sand slipping through my fingers.

What am I becoming?

That question haunted me every day. The experiments had started with injections, first the black substance, then the succubus blood, and now the vampire blood. I had no idea what they were doing to my body, but I could feel the changes deep inside me, like a second heart beating beneath the surface. My skin was paler now, my strength fluctuated between terrifying bursts of power and crippling weakness, and my senses were sharper than they should be. I could hear the faintest sounds, smell things I shouldn’t be able to, and my vision in the dark was becoming clearer by the day.

But it wasn’t just my body that was changing. It was my mind. I tried to fight it, to hold on to who I was before, but it was getting harder. Every day, the hunger grew stronger, and every day, I felt a little less… human. There were moments when I would catch myself thinking about things I never would have before, thoughts about power, about control, about how easy it would be to tear through the guards if I could just get my hands on them. It scared me.

“No,” I whispered to myself, my voice trembling. “I won’t let them win. I won’t become one of their monsters.”

But even as I said the words, I could feel the doubt creeping in. What if it was already too late? What if I was already the monster they wanted me to be?

The door to my cell creaked open, and I flinched, instinctively pulling back against the wall. Two figures stepped inside, their faces obscured by those hideous, devil-like masks. I had come to recognize them by their shapes, the way they carried themselves. These two were regulars, always the ones to bring the injections, always the ones to watch as I screamed in pain.

One of them carried the familiar syringe, filled with that black, swirling liquid. My stomach twisted in revulsion, but I didn’t resist as they approached. I had learned not to fight back. It only made things worse.

“Time for your next dose, little freak,” the taller one sneered as he jabbed the needle into my arm without hesitation.

I gritted my teeth as the liquid entered my veins, the now-familiar cold burn spreading through my body. I tried to suppress the scream building in my throat, but it escaped anyway, a hoarse, broken sound that echoed off the stone walls.

The masked figures didn’t react. They never did. To them, I was just another experiment, another thing to be poked and prodded. They didn’t care about the pain. They didn’t care about what was happening to me. All they cared about was results.

As they turned to leave, I heard one of them mutter to the other, “Master says we’re almost there. The transformation should be complete soon, then we can move on to the more complicated parts.”

“Yeah,” the other replied. “This one’s resilient, but they all break eventually. It’s only a matter of time before the mind goes, too.”

Their words hit me like a punch to the gut. The mind will go next. I had known it, deep down, but hearing them say it out loud made it real. It wasn’t just my body they were trying to change. It was my mind. They wanted to strip away who I was, to turn me into something else, something monstrous.

I waited until they were gone, the door slamming shut behind them, before I let the tears fall. I hadn’t cried in a long time. At first, I had been too scared, too numb to even feel anything beyond the pain. But now, it was all crashing down on me, the weight of what they were doing, of what I was becoming.

“I don’t want this,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I don’t want to be a monster.”

But it didn’t matter what I wanted. My body was changing, my mind was changing, and I had no control over it. The hunger that gnawed at me every day was proof of that. It was getting harder to resist, harder to push down the thoughts that whispered to me, it felt like something sinister was there in the dark, urging me to give in, to embrace the power coursing through my veins.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to steady my breathing. I couldn’t afford to break down. Not now. Not when I was so close to losing myself completely. If I let go, if I gave in to the hunger, there would be no coming back.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

But what if I couldn’t hold on much longer? What if one day I woke up and didn’t recognize myself anymore?

I shuddered at the thought, pulling my knees tighter to my chest. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen. No matter what they did to me, no matter how much they twisted my body, I had to hold on to who I was. I had to survive. I had to escape.

But even as I made that promise to myself, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was already too late.

…

The next few days—or maybe weeks were a blur. The injections continued, each one sending waves of agony through my body. But it was different now. The pain wasn’t as sharp as it used to be. It was almost… muted, like my body had grown accustomed to it. Or maybe it was just that the changes were finally starting to settle in.

My senses had become sharper. I could hear the guards talking in the hallway outside my cell, even when they whispered. I could smell the blood on their clothes, the sweat on their skin. And my vision… I could see in the dark now, clear as day. The shadows that once made me feel so alone, so helpless, no longer held any power over me.

But the changes weren’t just physical. I could feel it in my mind, too. The hunger was getting harder to ignore, harder to control. It wasn’t just a need for food anymore. It was something deeper, something darker. I wanted to consume, to take, to drain the life from the things around me. And the more I tried to push it away, the stronger it became.

I hated it. I hated what they were turning me into. But at the same time, I couldn’t deny that a part of me… liked it. The power, the control, the feeling of being something more than human. It scared me, but it was also intoxicating.

One night, as I lay in the cold darkness of my cell, I felt something shift inside me. It wasn’t the usual pang of hunger or the dull ache of my body mutating, this was something deeper, like a knot inside me that had finally come undone. I gasped, curling into a ball as a wave of heat spread through me, starting in my chest and radiating outward. It wasn’t pain, not exactly, but it was overwhelming, consuming.

My heart pounded in my ears as my skin began to tingle. I could feel it, my body changing again, but this time it was different. This wasn’t the gradual, creeping transformation I had come to expect. This was rapid, violent. My bones felt like they were expanding and contracting at once, like they couldn’t decide what size they were supposed to be. My muscles twitched and spasmed, my skin stretched taut across them.

I clutched at my chest, gasping for air as I felt something inside me… shift. It was like my very being was being rearranged, piece by piece, molecule by molecule, until I was no longer the person I had been.

What’s happening to me?

The question echoed in my mind, but there was no answer. Just the relentless pull of whatever was happening inside me, reshaping me into something else. I groaned, curling tighter into myself as the heat became unbearable. My vision blurred, and I could feel sweat pouring down my face. Every inch of me was on fire, my body a battlefield of sensations I couldn’t comprehend.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the heat subsided, leaving me trembling on the cold, damp floor. My breaths came in shallow gasps, my body still humming with the aftershocks of whatever had just happened. I slowly opened my eyes, blinking against the darkness. Something felt… different. My senses, already heightened from the experiments, seemed sharper than ever. I could hear every creak of the building, every whisper of wind against the stone walls. The scent of blood and death that had always lingered here was overwhelming now, filling my nose with an intensity that made my stomach twist.

But it wasn’t just my senses. It was my body. I lifted a trembling hand, staring at it in the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the stone walls. My fingers were longer, more delicate, and my nails had sharpened into what looked almost like claws. My skin was even paler than before, almost translucent, with veins of dark, shadowy lines running just beneath the surface. I could feel the strength in my muscles, the power that pulsed beneath my skin.

And yet, there was something else. Something deeper. A hunger. It gnawed at me, more intense than before. It wasn’t just a craving for food—it was something primal, something that demanded to be satisfied. I could feel it coiling in my chest, a darkness that writhed and twisted inside me, whispering at the edges of my mind.

Give in.

The voice wasn’t mine, but it was there, quiet and insistent. It was the hunger, the power, whatever they had injected into me. It was changing me, not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. I could feel my grip on myself slipping, like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and all it would take was one step to fall into the abyss.

No. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. I wasn’t going to let this happen. I wasn’t going to lose myself to whatever they were trying to turn me into. I wouldn’t become their monster.

But even as I thought that, I could feel the hunger pulling at me, tempting me. It was so strong, so overwhelming. And the worst part was… I didn’t hate it. Part of me, deep down wanted to give in. I wanted to embrace the power, to feel it coursing through my veins, to let it consume me.

What would it be like? The thought crept into my mind before I could stop it. What would it feel like to give in? To stop fighting and just… let go?

I shook my head, trying to push the thought away. I couldn’t think like that. I couldn’t let myself go down that path. But it was getting harder. Every day, every experiment, every moment spent in this prison, it was getting harder to hold on to who I was. To who I used to be.

I closed my eyes, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to steady myself. But no matter how much I tried to focus, the hunger wouldn’t go away. It gnawed at me, relentless and demanding. And I was so, so tired of fighting it.

A soft creak echoed through the room, and I tensed, opening my eyes. The door to my cell was swinging open slowly, and a figure stepped inside. It was one of the masked men, the taller one. He didn’t have a syringe this time, though. Instead, he held a tray of food. Real food. The scent hit me like a punch to the gut, and my stomach growled in response. It had been so long since I had eaten anything weeks-months, I lost track of time a long time ago.

But that wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t what I needed.

The man set the tray down on the floor in front of me, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t say anything, just stared down at me from behind that grotesque mask. I could feel his eyes on me, studying me, watching for any sign of weakness.

He’s testing me.

I stared at the food for a long moment, the hunger twisting inside me. But it wasn’t the food that I craved. It was him. The realization hit me like a cold wave of shock. I didn’t just want the food. I wanted him, to feed on him. To drain him dry, to take his life force and make it my own.

The thought sent a shudder through me, a mix of disgust and… desire. The hunger was so strong now, stronger than ever. And I didn’t know how much longer I could resist it.

The man tilted his head slightly, as if sensing my inner turmoil. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” His voice was low, taunting. “Go on, eat. You’ll need your strength for what’s coming next.”

I clenched my fists again, my nails biting into my skin. I wanted to scream at him, to lash out, to tear that mask off his face and make him pay for everything they had done to me. But I couldn’t. Not yet. I still remember the last time I tried I was manhandled… I wasn’t strong enough.

So instead, I forced myself to move. Slowly, painfully, I reached out and grabbed a piece of bread from the tray. My hands trembled as I brought it to my mouth, the taste of it bland and dry on my tongue. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

But for now, it was all I had.

The man watched me for a moment longer before turning and walking out of the cell, the door slamming shut behind him. I sat there in the darkness, chewing slowly, my mind racing.

I knew now that I couldn’t wait any longer. The changes were happening faster, the hunger growing stronger by the day. If I didn’t find a way out soon, I wouldn’t be able to stop it. I would lose myself completely, become the monster they wanted me to be.

But maybe… maybe that was the answer. Maybe I needed to embrace the monster inside me. To use the power they had given me to break free from this place. I didn’t want to give in, but what choice did I have?

I couldn’t stay here forever, waiting for them to finish turning me into their perfect monster . I had to act. I had to escape.

Because one thing was certain, I wasn’t going to die here.