𝘽𝙉𝙃𝘼 𝙓 𝘽𝙎𝘿 -----------------------------------------------------
➸𝙄𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨, 𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪
➸A REALITY IN WHICH
a suicidal girl strives to become hero
right after she associated with the villains.
How ironic.
»vari...
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"When you've got the devil's own luck, you're immune from the usual run of disasters. Such people must be utilized." ———————————————————————
The room was desolate, cold, and pitch black. It was dark and quiet in there, and she felt a shiver as the blackness enveloped her. It was the most searing darkness she'd ever seen—not just the darkness that comes from a lack of light, but something far more ominous.
The pitch black environment was impenetrable, and she remained fixed to the spot, stretching her eyes as wide as she could, but she could only make out a faint silhouette of some faraway object. Perhaps a table? Maybe a chair or two.
That place didn't have a warm feeling about it. It had an ominous odor, and the darkness seemed strange. She tried to slip out, but it was futile; she was neither in nor out, and she was too afraid to move lest she creates a loud sound.
She is now able to see. A metal table stood in front of her, with two chairs on either side and a solitary light bulb hanging from the top. Definitely ominous.
She stumbled forward slightly after receiving a hard nudge. Behind her, a raspy voice demands, "Take a seat in the chair."
Her wrists were cuffed, as she could see when she looked down. She could immediately feel the heavy metal hurting and bleeding against her skin. She is used to bindings, to that familiar tightness around her wrist signifying there is still a job to be done. She's quite familiar with the tangible, almost painful pressure of them, the implied warning of what would happen if she crossed any lines.
Even if she could escape, she wanted to see how this would all play out first.
She sighed and walked over to the table, where she sat in the squeaky metal chair.
Behind her, a door opened and then closed. Footsteps tapped on the tiles, and she made no attempt to turn around because the man holding papers had already entered her field of vision. He had messy black hair and was dressed in a police uniform. He appeared to be in his late forties.
He sat in the chair across from her, his leg crossed over the other and his expression twisted into a scowl as he placed the documents on the table.
"Please state your name, date of birth, and age, prisoner 030."
"..."
The man uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "I'll say this again, Prisoner 030, please state your name, date of birth, and age."
"..."
He clicked his tongue, his hateful gaze narrowing at her. "Let's start off easy, state you name."
