Page 37 of Glutton for Punishment

But fear doesn’t burn the same way forever. Eventually, even terror begins to dull when it’s stretched thin enough.

That’s when they reverted to physical harm.

Combining electric shocks. Burns. Suffocation masks held over my face until my lungs claw in my chest. Branding irons heated until the metal glows and pressed into skin they know will heal.

Unfortunately, my newfound ability with the sloth relic hidden in my cell inspired them to get creative with their torture.

The first time my body repaired itself overnight, they assumed my powers had somehow contributed to healing the damage.

They thought if they pushed me far enough that my powers would jump in and save its host.

That theory lasted until the day they left me in isolation after a particularly enthusiastic round of testing. When they returned the next morning, they expected to find me completely healed and breathing.

Instead, they found me on the brink of death. Almost a corpse.

Their new theory is that my bond with Atticus is repairing the damage.

I’ve done nothing to correct them. If they believe he’s the reason that I can handle this torment and heal myself right back up, they’ll consider him worth preserving.

I only touch the relic when no one can see. Although it heals my body, my mind remembers. I can’t admit to Atticus that this is slowly breaking me.

Another shock runs through me, smaller this time but still enough to send pain shooting through my nerves, which never fully recovers between sessions. The room smells of antiseptic and burned skin. My skin.

The machines fall silent again.

“Still nothing,” someone sighs.

My arms feel too heavy to lift, my lungs still scraping with every breath. The room blurs at the edges, the pain settling into something dull. Somewhere in that haze, a nasty thought slips in… I’m worthless.

I thought I had buried this version of myself.

I stood before the Council at the academy and refused their verdict. My friends had spent a year teaching me to see past “sinless” and “useless.” I made them look at me, and for once, I believed I was more.

But this place…

This room has a way of peeling that certainty back, layer by layer.

The thought surfaces before I can stop it… I wish I were still invisible.

I hear the familiar beep of the electronic security door, and soft footsteps echo across the room.

“Ah,” Dr. Plinth says with sudden interest. “I wondered when we’d be getting a visit from you.”

I barely notice until a familiar voice drifts across the room.

“Well…” Ryker Blaise says, “this room is a lot bleaker than the rest of the tower.”

My eyes snap open as his voice breaks me out of a mental spiral.

“You’d think with our resources we could afford some less… clinical décor.” His mocking tone, thick with confidence, dredges up all the memories from the last year, putting my body on full alert. ‘Danger!’ It screams.

He finally walks into my field of vision as he speaks with Dr. Plinth. Not a single piece of his short blonde hair out of place. Expensive clothes that look like he walked straight out of one of his parties and into this sterile room.

Standing like the doesn’t have a care in the world.

Standing there while I’m strapped to a metal table covered in blood and burns.

Rage surges through me before I can stop it.