Run With The Devil

The Calm Before the Storm

Lyras pov

I wake up in the same cold, sterile room. The fluorescent lights hum above me, flickering slightly, as if they're tired of burning so brightly for so long. I'm not sure if it's day or night anymore-time doesn't exist in here.

My arms feel heavy as I push myself up, the lingering traces of the serum still in my veins. It's always like this after they inject me, after they push me to run faster, harder. But today, something's different. I don't feel the dull ache in my muscles. I don't feel the burning in my lungs.

I feel... nothing.

I sit up on the small cot they call a bed and press my hand against my chest, where the heart monitor still clings to my skin. My heart is beating steadily, no longer hammering like it usually does after a run. It's calm. Too calm.

I pull my knees to my chest and stare at the wall, the endless white that stretches around me. They call this my "recovery room," as if there's anything to recover from. They don't understand that the pain, the exhaustion-it never really goes away. It just gets buried deeper, pushed aside until they force me to run again.

But today, there's no pain.

It's strange. Almost unsettling. I run my fingers over the number on my wrist-019-my only identity. The only name I've ever known, other than whispers I've caught in the corners of their conversations. Lyra. That's what I think my name is. But no one has ever called me that. Not once.

I don't know why the pain is gone. I don't know why I feel so calm, so... normal. After years of being pushed to the brink, of feeling my body break down over and over, why now? What changed?

I think back to yesterday, to the way the scientist smiled when I told him I wasn't in pain anymore. That smile still haunts me. It wasn't relief. It wasn't happiness. It was something else, something darker. Like I'd done exactly what they wanted.

I hear a click at the door, and I instinctively straighten. It opens, and two guards walk in, followed by the same scientist from yesterday. He's holding his clipboard again, as if the answers to everything are written on that paper, not hidden in my body.

"Time for your tests," he says, his voice flat, emotionless.

I nod, slipping off the cot and following the guards down the long, empty hallway. The lights buzz overhead as we walk, the sound grating in my ears. I've walked this path so many times I don't even have to think about it anymore. Left turn, then another left, through the double doors, and into the white room with the glass walls.

They strap the heart monitor to my chest again, securing it tightly, as if I'm going to break free. I've tried before. It never ends well. The last time I tried to escape, they shocked me so many times I thought my heart would stop for good. The collar around my neck, the metal biting into my skin-it's still there, still waiting for them to use it.

But I haven't tried to escape since. Not because I'm scared, but because I'm waiting. Waiting for the right moment. And it hasn't come yet.

"Begin," the scientist says, his voice crackling over the speaker as he stands behind the glass, watching me. Always watching.

I take a deep breath and start running. Slowly at first, just to test it. My feet barely skim the ground, my body moving in a blur as the walls blur around me. But there's no strain, no heaviness in my limbs.

Faster.

I push harder, my speed increasing until I'm a streak of motion, faster than I've ever been. But it feels... easy. Like my body knows exactly what to do, like it's built for this. The walls are a blur of white, but they don't feel like walls anymore. They feel like nothing.

No pain. No exhaustion. Just speed.

The scientist's voice crackles through the speaker again. "019, report. What are you feeling?"

I slow down, just enough to answer. "Nothing," I say. "I feel fine."

Fine. It's a word I haven't used in years. I don't feel the sharp ache in my legs, or the tightness in my chest. I don't feel like I'm going to collapse at any moment.

He nods behind the glass, scribbling something on his clipboard. Another smile creeps across his face, the same one from yesterday. He presses the button on the speaker again. "Good. Very good."

They've been waiting for this. I don't know what they've done to me, but this-this is what they wanted. They've broken me down, over and over again, just to rebuild me into something... faster. Stronger.

But now I'm left wondering-if I'm no longer breaking, what happens next?

I stop running, standing in the middle of the room as the speed leaves my body, like a switch being flipped. My breathing is steady, my heartbeat even. I should feel relieved, but all I feel is confusion.

Why am I not in pain anymore? Why does my body feel like it's not my own?

The scientist taps the glass, watching me closely. "We'll continue tomorrow, 019. You're progressing well. Better than expected."

The guards come in again, their footsteps heavy as they lead me back to my room. The same room, the same white walls, the same emptiness. But something is different now. I can feel it in the air.

As I lie back down on the cot, staring at the ceiling, I can't shake the feeling that something is about to change. I've been here for as long as I can remember, subjected to their tests, their experiments, their endless search for more speed, more power.

But for the first time, I'm not scared. For the first time, I feel... ready.

Ready for whatever comes next.

Ready to run.

And this time, I won't stop.