I don't know how long it's been... Too long...
I spend most days in agonizing pain, I think of Ban when trying to distract myself from what's happening around me. It's the only happy memories I can remember.
I'm so ashamed, I can barely remember what his face looks like anymore. Hell, I barely know what I look like anymore.
From what Othello says, I look exactly the same as the day I got here, I'm doubtful. It's been so long.
I haven't left this place since I've gotten here. I'm in this room, or the bathroom next door. What's it like to breathe fresh oxygen or have the sun shine on your face? I couldn't tell you. I don't remember. My room upgrade never came, I've been sleeping in this glorified dog crate for however long I've been here, surely it had been years, how many? I don't know.
It's truly a wonder I haven't lost my mind yet, I feel brain dead without anyone to talk to besides my tormentor, or any sort of stimulation. I'm sedentary most days without much to look at or think about. I'm just... hollow.
Othello tells me I should feel lucky. With his experiments, I'm supposedly much stronger and capable than I had ever been before. I wouldn't know. Between his lab and the bathroom, I have maybe about a hundred square feet to move around in, not enough room to test out my alleged new strength.
I sure didn't feel stronger, I felt completely destroyed, the weakest I've ever been. I eat every few days, I partake in no physical activity, my mental state is at an all time low. He claims that he has to keep me this way since my strength would far overpower his own, and he didn't want to risk losing his best specimen.
The reason I'm stronger? Over the years Othello has injected me with blood from all the races of Britannia, a feat he tells me has never been done before. He told me it's extraordinarily risky since most people's bodies don't accept foreign blood, but lucky me, I was somehow different.
He told me that he started off with small dosages that were mixed with my own blood and my body built up tolerance, he said I was a scientific miracle. I don't feel like one.
The injections he gives me burn like acid, they incapacitate me for days, weeks.
Once my body accepts the new blood, he pushes my body to it's limits seeing if I had gained the strength of the race. He likes to see if my body is able to rebuild itself after being destroyed.
Apparently, I'm near immortal at this point, so lucky me, I'm just stuck with Othello until he dies I guess? He's not that old, how much more of this must I endure?
I'm asleep in this stupid cage. It was big enough for me to sit upright, not big enough to fully stretch out though, the fetal position was necessary to fit completely. I was no stranger to waking up aching, whenever Othello let me out, he'd have to account for the fifteen minutes I insisted on having for stretching.
I don't have stockholm syndrome, but there are times I'm grateful he allows me some flexibility, hah literally.
Ok maybe it was a bit of stockholm, I wouldn't need him to allow me time to stretch out if he hadn't kidnapped me and kept me in a fucking dog cage. I had to remind myself sometimes that I could've been anywhere else in the world doing anything had he not purchased me.
I'm roused from my slumber when I hear the door open and close, followed by the sound of it being locked. The lights are then flicked on and I hear Othello puttering about the lab setting up whatever he needed for the day.
"Good morning Julie!" He says in a chipper voice as he begins to unlock the cage. I groan and cover my eyes from the light not wanting to wake up.
Being asleep was far safer around here, it was an escape from this bizarre and awful life. At this point of my life, I spent more time sleeping than not, it's easier to live in dream land than this reality.
Othello unlocks and opens the cage door and waits for me to crawl out, I don't move.
"Come on sleepy head, I've got a lot to accomplish today," his patience waivers slightly, but I simply cannot be bothered.
"Turn off the lights," I mumble keeping my eyes closed.
He sighs, getting annoyed with me, but really what can he do to me that's worse than what he's already done the past however many years. He holds nothing over me and I'm not going to be his obedient little lab rat anymore.
He pulls me out by force and I groan. "Perfect Cube," he mutters.
I find myself in a glowing purple square and furrow my eyebrows. I often forget that Othello is a mage since he rarely shows off any of his abilities, so I must have really pissed him off.
Being confined in the cube, there is no risk of him destroying his lab when he starts to unleash an array of strong attacks on me.
I sort of just have to sit there and take it, I haven't a clue how to fight back, I'm weak and have never once trained with my apparent new abilities.
I'm hit with lightning, fire balls, tornadoes. I grit my teeth, knowing how to stop him.
"I'm sorry," I say begrudgingly.
The attacks stop moments later, the cube disappearing from around us. This guy has some real anger issues. I want to sleep in, the natural response is to unleash a barrage of attacks on me.
I sit down on the stupid metal table knowing he'll want to examine my body healing itself.
As it stands, I'm cut up pretty bad, but am still intact.
Othello takes out his journal and begins to watch me and write stuff down as he does.
"Goddess healing, druid eyes," he mutters as he records his findings. "Demon healing, black markings. Still no signs of physical changes in size or wings."
I roll my eyes, this was nothing new. He spent years trying to bring out the physical traits of giants and fairies, as if I was going to magically materialize a set of wings because I had some fairy blood in me, or like I was going to grow from my five foot four height to the size of a giant.
"Alrighty then, let's get started for the day," his voice was always so optimistic, it made me want to puke.
He grabbed some items from the workbench and walked back to me. "Here we have a higher concentration of Fairy blood with DNA similar to yours, I'm hoping this will produce more notable results than our previous attempts."
OH HELL NO. That shit hurt so bad last time, I was not letting him put that shit in my bloodstream again. I shot up from the table and glared at him. I'm not sure what I hoped to accomplish, I never won these standoffs, but I could at least try.
I was going to try a more offensive take, I dove across the table landing on top of Othello. I got a couple punches in before he had turned the tables and I was now below him.
"Why do you insist on being so difficult?" Othello rolls his eyes at me.
He straps me to the table, and resumes his experiment as if I was just a minor inconvenience, a pesky fly on the wall perhaps.
As soon as I'm injected with the blood, I feel like my veins are on fire, I could hardly stop myself from screaming in pain. As it makes its' way through my bloodstream it only gets worse and I start sobbing, until I feel my brain welcoming me to pass out from the pain and I immediately take the offer, falling unconscious.
