Run With The Devil

019

Lyras pov

Night always comes the same way. The lights flicker off, and I'm locked back into my room. A small cell, really, with four white walls and a metal door that never opens unless they want something from me. It's been this way for as long as I can remember.

I sit on the cold floor, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the scars on my arm. Thin lines crisscross my skin where the needles go in. I've lost count of how many times they've injected me, but tonight, it's ten more. Ten more serums coursing through my veins, burning me from the inside. Making me faster.

Always faster.

I close my eyes and try to block it out-the sting, the ache, the way my heart feels like it's trying to tear itself apart with each beat. This is my life. This is all I know. Run faster, push harder, and when I'm too weak, they inject more into me until I can't feel anything but the speed. Until it's the only thing I have left.

I tried to escape once. I thought maybe I could outrun them, like I outrun everything else. I was wrong. They caught me before I even made it to the exit. Threw me into a cell with cold, hard walls that felt even smaller than this room.

Then came the collar.

I shiver, remembering the way it bit into my neck, metal and heavy, its cold weight pressing down on me. The first shock was a warning, a burst of electricity that rattled through me like fire. The second was worse. By the third, I couldn't scream anymore. My voice was gone, just like my hope. They left me there for hours, my body limp, broken.

That's what happens when you try to leave.

I learned my lesson.

Now, I don't try to escape. What's the point? The faster I run, the tighter the leash they put on me. I'll never be free. Not here. Not like this.

The others-they tried, too. They always tried, but none of them made it. The ones with abilities like mine, the ones who were supposed to be special. They're all gone now.

Dead.

The serums were too strong for them. I saw it happen, over and over. Their bodies couldn't handle it, the way the power tore them apart from the inside. One by one, they fell. I wasn't allowed to mourn for them. No one was. They weren't people, just subjects. Just numbers. Like me.

I look down at my wrist. The number is tattooed there, black and permanent. 019. That's all I am. I've had it since I was little. I don't remember getting it, but it's always been there, a mark of what I am. Property. A thing to be tested and broken.

I'm not even called by my name anymore.

It's been so long since anyone used it that sometimes I wonder if I imagined it. Maybe I never had a name at all. But I remember... I remember hearing it once, a long time ago. I was younger then, maybe five or six, hiding in the corner of my room, small and afraid. I overheard the scientists talking about me, saying I was progressing faster than the others. That I was different.

That's when I heard it.

Lyra.

It felt strange, hearing them say it. Like a secret that didn't belong to me. But now, they don't even bother with that. I'm just 019 to them. Not a person. Just an experiment.

I wonder sometimes-about my parents. Who they were, what they looked like. Were they like me? Or were they just ordinary people, with ordinary lives? Did they love me? Did they even want me? I'll never know. They're probably long gone. Maybe they never existed at all.

I shake the thoughts away. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. I can't get answers, not here. The only thing I know is this room, this pain, and the constant demand to run faster, to be faster.

I sit in the dark for a long time, listening to the hum of the machines outside my door. The distant click of footsteps, the low murmurs of the scientists as they walk by, not even glancing at the door where I'm locked away.

Dinner comes eventually. A tray shoved through the slot in the door. Bland food that I barely taste. I eat because I have to, because I need the energy to keep going. But I don't think about it. I don't think about much anymore.

I wonder how much longer I can last. If the serums will eventually tear me apart like they did the others. I'm stronger than they were-I've survived more-but that doesn't mean I'm invincible. I can feel it in my body, the way the serums are changing me, twisting me into something I don't even recognize.

Maybe one day, I'll break too.

I stare at the walls, empty and cold, and the thought settles deep inside me. I'm not afraid of it. Not anymore. If I die here, at least the running will stop. At least the pain will end.

But something inside me still fights. Some small, stubborn part of me that doesn't want to give up. I don't know why it's there. Maybe it's because, somewhere deep down, I still remember what it felt like to be more than just a number. To be more than 019.

To be Lyra.

But names don't mean anything here. Hope doesn't mean anything here. The only thing that matters is how fast I can run.

And no matter how fast I go, I'll never be able to outrun this place.