Time marches on. Lucy had never heard that saying in particular, but she knew the meaning of it. Time stopped for nobody, no matter how much someone wished for it. Life wasn’t a holiday trip, it wasn’t an enjoyment ride. Life would gladly take you out the backdoor, bend you over, and fuck you up.

Yet, despite that, ever since the darkness in her cell answered her prayer, at least to some degree, the passage of time felt… lesser. It wasn’t the overbearing feeling anymore. Sure, time marches on and she would still suffer, but at least she had some small form of solace now.

That being said, her days continued much like the previous ones. She would be left in her cell for most of it, sometimes taken out for the overseers to turn one more person into a flesh abomination, before they put her back.

And the more it went, the more she felt like she didn’t deserve the solace that the darkness gave her. She continued to see her fellow labrats, having given up and being broken, and she felt like she was betraying them. Nobody owed anyone any allegiance in this place, but still, a small part of her wondered why she was allowed some peace and quiet if the others weren’t.

But she kept her thoughts to herself, her stubborn half refusing to give up the pleasant feeling of the darkness, while her broken half questioned her own moral high ground. It was a constant struggle, but so far she decided it was best to continue as is.

That was, of course, until the fateful day where she was led into a different room.

It started similarly to the normal day, someone pulled her out of the cell and marched her down the corridors. But unlike any other day, they took her down a different path. The way she walked was way longer, and eventually they ended up in front of a large double door with sinister markings on them.

Lucy had no idea what they were, but they looked ominous. And she didn’t like it one bit.

Ever since her prayer every dark room had felt pleasant to her, protective, not only her cell. She only connected the feeling of pleasantness with her cell because most other rooms weren’t dark and in her cell she was alone.

Now, however, as she entered the dark room before her, the darkness wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t protective, it wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t even indifferent. It was utterly devoid of empathy. It was predatory.

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It was as if the pleasant feeling before didn’t exist. It was as if they were a cruel joke. As the door closed itself behind her she once more felt the chilling grip of the dark on her entire being.

That was the moment she knew the people in this facility had tricked her. They had given her a lifeline, they had given her just a fraction of freedom, only for them to take it away once more.

They wanted her to know that she was worthless, that she was nothing.

She tried to play it off, to ignore the feeling of loss, to ignore the wish to cry. But she couldn’t.

As she was placed down on the chair in the middle of the room, she cried quiet tears.

And then the bastard that dragged her here pulled away the covers from the bed before her, revealing the same spiderling she had seen on the day the darkness embraced her. He was breathing raggedly, most of his limbs missing and despite his best efforts she could see the pain in him.

A pain assaulted her heart. Labrats weren’t loyal to each other, they didn’t owe each other anything. But seeing that another labrat was about to be subjected to whatever the fuck her powers were hurt to know.

It hurt to see even more.

She was used to hearing the screams. She was used to hearing them begging for release.

The spiderling didn’t talk during the procedure. But hearing his screams nearly broke her heart.

They didn’t even know each other's name. But they knew each other's suffering. They knew each other’s fate, and they knew each other’s deepest wish: To die. And here she was, denying that spiderlings deepest wish. He would never die. He would only suffer. And she was responsible.

Lucy had once thought herself to be utterly devoid of emotion. She had thought herself of being broken. But ever since the darkness had taken a liking to her, she realised that she had softened up. She had been tricked in revealing her heart. She had been tricked into having a vulnerability.

With all the will she could muster, every fibre of her being working in tandem, she pushed her heart back deep into the bunker she had originally placed it in. She would not be tricked twice, she would not suffer any more. Her only wish in life was to die, her only want was the sweet release of death. Lucy had no ambitions, no dreams, nothing to look forward to.

She would not be fooled again.

When she finally arrived back in her cell, tears already long dried up, the darkness once more welcomed her into its sweet release. But she pushed it away. It was only one more trick in the books of the people overseeing them, and she would not fall prey to it again.