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The cell door shuddered open, filling my dim quarters with the harsh light from the corridor.
My sense of smell was the first to react, overwhelmed by the sterile aroma of the prison that permeated everything.
Even after all this time, I hadn’t gotten used to it.
It was too clean, too artificial — void of the organic muskiness of my homeworld.
As predictable as ever, the guards stood there in their shiny armor, their eyes glinting with an unspoken expectation.
They wanted me standing at attention, as obedient as a well-trained pet.
But defiance was all I had left.
I held on to it, stubbornly refusing to grant them their wish.
The cold, metal bed beneath me vibrated slightly with the mechanical hum of the prison, a constant reminder of my surroundings.
My bare feet touched the chilled floor, contrasting sharply with the residual warmth of the bed.
I could hear their impatient grunts, the shuffling of armored feet on the metallic surface, a clear indication of their growing annoyance.
Yet, I remained still, savoring their growing frustration, each moment a tiny victory.
“Get up!”
The guard’s command cut through the air, harsh and demanding.
I recognized the voice — it belonged to one of the regulars, a gruff, relentless brute who seemed to take great pleasure in his job.
Yet, I continued my silent rebellion.
Their patience finally wore thin, and the guards advanced.
The first blow was hard, hitting me square in the ribs.
The sharp pang of pain was expected, and I welcomed it, letting it ground me in my purpose.
The strikes continued, each one more forceful than the last.
My senses amplified the experience — metallic blood, the acrid smell of my sweat, the throbbing pain singing through my nerves, the grating sound of the guard’s armor against the cold floor, and the harsh white light that threatened to blind me.
And with each assault, my defiance grew stronger.
Finally, when they seemed satisfied with my apparent submission, I pushed myself up, my movements slow and deliberate.
I couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto my lips.
My small victory in our game of defiance.
It was only when you admitted defeat in this place that you were truly lost.
As they marched me out of the room, my gaze found Ellie.
She was on the floor, looking up at me with wide, fearful eyes.
Something in her gaze tugged at my heart, a feeling that I couldn’t quite place.
For a moment, my smirk disappeared, replaced by a sense of regret.
