Creed: Submission
“Do you know how long it takes a person to die once their body’s engulfed in flames?
Four minutes.”
Hope was the cruelest thing I ever carried. It told me if I was quiet enough, obedient enough, lovely enough, I could be more than a Doll. But my starting price was a billion dollars, and now I’m Creed.
Three men and me. Sharpened into weapons. Hollowed out into machines. Sold as death incarnate. Any contract with Creed attached meant someone was bound to burn alive.
We were taught to carve the humanity out of ourselves until nothing remained but what our buyers wanted. Submission was survival in our world, but bodies have a way of cataloging hurt, even when we beg them to forget.
And mine is so bruised, so broken and stitched, blood leaking from every crevice of my soul that I simply must confess this to you—all that Creed did—we did.
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