Fiction Science Fiction

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

I’m scared.

I’m scared of what I’ve become. The crimson substance dripping down my torn straitjacket is cold, and my hand is trembling with the knife still enclosed within my fingers. The sharp blade appeals to my neck, calling to it. Attracting it like a magnet. I want to relieve this pain. The psychological pain that’s been tormenting me for so long. I’m not sure my mind can handle this any longer.

This blood isn’t mine.

This knife isn’t mine.

“Don’t let him out,” they said. “We all know what’ll happen,” they said.

Well, it turns out they were right. Every. Single. One. Especially the one in front of me; the one that’s surrounded by a carpet of her own blood with lifeless eyes and a deep stab wound, directly in her black heart. Her once pure white lab coat is now a dark, bloody mess. It reeks of mud and metal, as the old abandoned shipping crate I chased her into hasn’t been touched by humans in years.

I can’t believe I looked up to her. I even used to call her “mom” by accident, too. But what happened? What made me this way? Oh right. It was all her.

The first thing I can remember is crying and screaming for my mom to come back. For her to embrace me once more. But instead, she sold me. She sold me like I was nothing to her but a bargaining chip. All those nights together huddled in an alleyway, trying to conserve warmth, they obviously meant nothing with how easily she just gave me away.

Her once warm hands were replaced by the ice-cold hands of these so-called “scientists” as they dragged me away. As they dragged me into their institution.

This institution promised “a better and stronger race capable of fighting for humans,” but everyone here knows what they truly are: cold-blooded monsters who don’t care about anyone but themselves. They test on the children without a care, treating us like objects and discarding the ones that break too easily. I’ve seen too many friends leave me in all the years I was held against my will.

Their cries and wails for help are things that will never leave my head.

As much as I wanted to let myself break, something in me kept me alive. I wanted it to leave me. I simply wanted to embrace death and allow myself to see my friends again, but no. This “instinct” in me wanted me to live, so I obeyed. I withstood all the tests they did on my body; strapping me down and testing how far my pain tolerance was, injecting me with substances of all kinds, and testing my mental limit. I somehow lived through all that, but at what cost?

Bandages always littered my limbs, trying to keep the blood from escaping, but I would rip them off anyway. I liked to see the little rivers of red flow down my arms and drip onto the cushioned white floors of my cell. When I started to get lightheaded, I would try to sleep, but the numb feeling kept me up. No matter how hard I tried, sleep would never embrace me in its hug. All I could do was look up at the single hanging lightbulb in the center of the little cell I was confined to.

The one leading this twisted place was her. She came up with the concept that there was a way to enhance the human race. But of course, that was all a lie to cover up her own intentions; to create an army that she could use to overtake the world. And I was part of it.

Once she realized I kept living, she would personally praise me, saying I was “making a difference” and “helping humanity.” Of course, being so young, I believed her. I started to see her as someone who loved me through all this. Someone who I can be safe with. She was always in the room I was being tested on, overseeing my progress. Every time I wanted to cry, she would put a gentle hand on my arm, reminding me I was doing good.

Every time I saw her through the small window of my cell, I smiled, as she would usually tell me stories and entertain me, even caring for the wounds the other scientists inflicted on me, not allowing me to hear the chaos happening outside.

As I later learned, the only reason she came to me was to distract me from the screams and shrieks of pain that were ringing through the halls. But as she came less and less, the more I heard. The more sleepless nights I experienced. Before I knew it, I was numb to the pain. Nothing hurt anymore, and I was nothing more than a living doll, forced to do someone else’s bidding.

Finally, after years of this torment, they realized how strong I was. All their experiments worked, and I was now the first of my kind. Sure, I looked like a normal human, but my insides were a whole other story. I was stronger, faster, and smarter than all of these scientists combined. I was now the number one threat to them, so she ordered me to be constrained. To be stuck in one place until I was of use again.

A straitjacket compressed my arms as my ankles were stuck together by cuffs. How could they do this? After all that I’ve done to contribute to their experiments, this is how they treat me? They could’ve at least let me outside and see society again, but instead, they tied me down like a rabid animal. For once in a long time at this place, tears rolled down my cheeks. They were warm; something I hadn’t felt in a while. Maybe if I leave, I can feel the warmth of the sun too.

So that’s what I did.

I used the strength they injected in me to break out of the straitjacket and cuffs, freeing myself. I broke out of the cell with one solid kick to the door, sounding off the alarms. Red lights flashed through the halls as I ran, trying to find her office.

Scientists came flooding through other hallways, holding guns, knives, and weapons of all kinds to stop me, but it was like knocking down dominoes. I didn’t hold back, remembering how they treated me. I ripped them apart like ragdolls, surprising myself with my own strength. When it started to get fun, I even started biting them like the “animal I was.” The metallic flavor of the scarlet, warm substance was better than the flavorless junk I was fed once a day.

The next thing I knew, the ground was now covered by bodies, some still in one piece, while others were like an unsolved puzzle. I picked up a knife one had dropped and looked at myself in the reflection. I looked different than when I was with my mom. My once innocent eyes were now soulless; not even a glimmer of light reflected in them. My face was covered in blood, acting like face paint.

I wanted to look more, but there was something I had to do. Walking past the cells of everyone else taken, I was tempted to open them all, but we didn’t need more like me littering this planet. Bangs and wails echoed through the halls, accompanied by the migraine-inducing sirens of the alarms still going on. Oh, how I couldn’t wait to get out.

Finally, I reached her. She was huddled in the corner of her office, shaking with fear of what she had created.

“63-O2,” she pleaded, “you know I was doing this to better humanity, right? To better people like your mom!”

I scoffed, amused by the desperation in her voice. “And you know my name isn’t some random set of numbers, right?”

“O-of course, um…” she trailed off.

“Fine. I might’ve given you a chance of living if you remembered my name, but now you only get three seconds. One, two, three.”

She ran past me, sprinting as fast as she could while trying not to look at the massacre I created. She led me straight to the entrance of this institution; somewhere I’d only been once. The glass doors revealed the outside, and I was drawn to it. But this wasn’t the outside I remembered. There used to be tall glass buildings, small cozy shops, and vendors selling you anything from flowers to candies. But now, everything was in ruin. Plants have overtaken the fallen buildings, as the sky was now a bright orange, not like any sunset I’ve seen.

Continuing to chase her, I could tell she was losing stamina. I grinned, ready to free myself from this. She kept on running, but the distance between us quickly closed. She tried to turn a corner, but a rusting storage crate was waiting for her, trapping her with me. She tripped, scratching her knees as she hit the rocky floor.

This was it.

This is the chance I’ve been waiting for.

I gripped the knife, my knuckles turning white. With one clean jab, the blade sank into her chest, hitting her directly in the heart. In an instant, she was dead. She was no longer here to torture me. I had finally freed myself.

But now what?

I’m trembling with… fear? But why? The one causing all my torment is finally dead. Dead, but her blood is on my hands as I hold the knife that caused it. The warmth the crimson briefly gave was now cold, staining my ruined “clothes.” My mind shouldn’t still be this cluttered with rogue thoughts. Thoughts that she put into my mind.

Maybe I don’t belong in this world. This ruined world that isn’t anything like it used to be. This world that would be better without the monster I am.

What would be the point of living in a world that didn’t want me? Need me?

I looked down at the knife. It begged the instinct within me to finally let go. To let me rest forever. To let me see my friends again. And… it did. The instinct finally let me get embraced by the hands of death, the knife guiding me.

With a smile and tears down my face, my mind was finally free.

Posted May 23, 2025
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8 likes 3 comments

Graham Kinross
04:32 Jun 01, 2025

The urge to end a life of suffering like this seems tempting for someone dealing with overwhelming trauma. I wish he had found some solace, some peace. It feels like an alternate story for Homelander from The Boys or Sentry/Void from the Marvel comics.

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Sanjin Juric Fot
09:29 May 30, 2025

Hi Teany Tiny,
This is an interesting story that I enjoyed reading. I liked the way you used retrospection to jump back and forth in time, telling both the present event and the background story.
Your story could have benefited from some zooming in and more showing, rather than telling. You could have shown us more dialogue between the protagonist and the real or fake mother that would illustrate their relationship better than the first-person telling could.
I also left you a couple of suggestions, copying your story into Google Docs here:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1vk1T3GRj0rya7akCyRoSXshh63nrWAwU7Clc5u3-f5I/edit?usp=sharing
This document is only for smoother critiquing, and I'll delete it in a week; I won't be sharing it with anyone.
Happy writing!

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Teany Tiny
18:32 May 31, 2025

Thanks for the suggestions, Sanjin! This was one of my first times trying to write a short story, and I'm still trying to get the hang of it. I'll definitely give the Docs a check later! :)

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