The pain was unlike anything she had ever known, raw and unrelenting, burrowing deep into her bones. Every needle pierced her skin like liquid fire, the unknown substances burning through her veins, igniting her nerves in unbearable agony. Her muscles clenched involuntarily, her body convulsing despite the restraints. The cold metal clasp against her forehead was the only thing keeping her upright as she screamed, her voice raw and broken.
The two women moved methodically, their faces expressionless, their hands precise. They weren't just doctors or surgeons. They were sculptors, carving her into something else. She tried to remember their faces, but the pain blurred everything together, reducing them to shadows.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard the faint hum of machinery, the rhythmic beeping of monitors tracking every change in her vitals. A sharp, metallic scent filled the air—was it blood? Sweat? She didn't know.
Her mind frayed at the edges, the agony pulling her apart piece by piece until she was nothing but raw nerve endings and silent, tearless screams.
When the torment finally ceased, her body slumped, limp and drenched in sweat and blood. Darkness swallowed her whole.
---
Eliana's eyes fluttered open, her vision swimming. A strange, floating sensation wrapped around her, as if she were weightless. She lay curled in a plush lounge chair, enveloped in a thick, luxurious robe. Everything felt… oddly pleasant. Too pleasant. The lights above wavered and shimmered, and then a face appeared before her.
"Keith…" she murmured, a lazy giggle slipping past her lips. "You look so funny right now."
Keith grinned down at her. "They drugged you real good, kid. But you needed it. Your screams were echoing through the entire spa."
Her stomach twisted. The memories crashed back into her mind like a tidal wave—the restraints, the needles, the pain. Her hands clenched the robe as her body tensed. "W-what did they do to me?" she whispered, her voice barely steady.
Before she could process anything further, Keith scooped her up effortlessly. She gasped, but before she could protest, he set her back down—this time on unsteady feet in front of a mirror. He held her waist, keeping her upright as she swayed, his chest pressing against her back.
Her eyes widened.
She still looked like herself… but at the same time, she didn't.
Her fingers trembled as they touched her face. The soft roundness of her cheeks was gone, replaced by sharper angles, a defined jawline that made her look older, more striking. Her nose and lips had been subtly altered—just enough to appear impossibly symmetrical. Her hair was no longer thin and limp but full and cascading in soft waves. Her gaze dropped lower. She hesitated, then pulled the robe slightly apart. Her breasts were fuller, firmer, perfectly shaped. Every inch of her skin was flawless—no scars, no blemishes, no stray hairs. Even the smallest imperfections had been erased.
Keith's voice rumbled close to her ear. "Much better now, huh? This is why everyone looks so good here. They make us into beautiful weapons."
She couldn't find the words to respond. Her reflection stared back at her, a ghost of herself, and a numb sort of horror settled in her chest.
Keith's hands shifted. One slid up to cup her breast, the other grasped her chin, turning her face toward him. "Not an ugly duckling anymore," he murmured. Then, without warning, he kissed her.
Eliana froze.
His tongue forced its way into her mouth, his grip firm as if testing his claim over her. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes. Then, as suddenly as he started, Keith pulled away, smirking as he turned and walked off without another word.
Eliana sank to her knees, her trembling fingers pressing against the mirror. The girl staring back at her looked so much like her—but she wasn't. Not anymore.
Her stomach twisted. Did she really need "improvement"? She had never considered herself beautiful, but she had been… her. And now, without her consent, they had stripped that away and reshaped her into something else, something they found acceptable. The violation ran deeper than her skin. They hadn't just changed her appearance. They had taken something from her—something she couldn't name, but she felt its absence like a gaping wound.
A ghost of her past self flickered in her mind—soft, imperfect, human. Now, that girl was gone. Replaced by a stranger with a flawless face and a body engineered to be a weapon.
For hours, she sat there, staring at the stranger in the mirror. Mourning the version of herself they had erased.
This place was changing her. And she didn't know how to stop it.
Would she become one of them? A ruthless killer? Dane's words echoed in her mind—none of them had a choice. How many had fought, just like her, only to be forced to submit?
When she finally stood, it felt like leaving a piece of herself behind.