Patient B-2

Chapter Twenty-One: Aren

My life has been a relentless cycle of pain and fear. Childhood memories are supposed to be filled with laughter and love, but for me, they were overshadowed by a constant sense of dread. The man who I once thought of as my father, consumed by his own demons, saw himself as a hunter of monsters, unaware that he was the true monster lurking in our midst. And while my mother wasn't as cruel as him, her stern demeanor only added to the oppressive atmosphere of our home.

A part of me empathizes with her, saddened by the realization that it was likely that awful man who robbed her of every ounce of happiness. He had a knack for it, whether it be through his harsh words or his rough hands. Yet, there's another part of me that harbors resentment towards her. Instead of granting me the opportunity to grow up in a family free from violence, perhaps with my biological father, she chose to keep me there, right by her side.

There were no joyful moments, no tender embraces- just the suffocating weight of uncertainty and the ever-present threat of violence. In a world where innocence should have thrived, I was forced to navigate the darkness alone, longing for a glimmer of light to guide me through the shadows.

My sister tried her best, but she saw in me what I've always known to be true- I'm weak. I wasn't worth being saved, not if I couldn't even make an effort for myself. From as far back as I can remember, I've felt different. I wasn't like my parents, and I certainly wasn't like my sister. While she exuded strength and confidence, even if it was fake at times, I found myself overwhelmed by my own sensitivity. I cried at the slightest provocation, cowering in fear at the smallest things. I wasn't physically strong, and I lacked the courage to stand up for myself.

I let the other kids in town pick on me, never daring to fight back. It wasn't that I couldn't defend myself; I simply lacked the will to do so. I allowed things to happen to me, resigning myself to a life of passivity. As I find myself in the same position now, unable to break free from the chains that bind me, I can't help but wonder if this is simply who I am destined to be- a perpetual victim of circumstance.

Avalyn lies directly beside me on a table, her own pushed right up against mine. We're both bound tightly by restraints, except for one of her wrists, which is free and being forced into my mouth.

Tears stream down my face as I struggle to do anything but weakly attempt to clamp my mouth shut, trying to stop the doctor. However, with the amount of drugs coursing through my veins, I lack the strength to do much more. It's a pathetic sight- I feel utterly pathetic.

"Come on, B-2. Neither of us has time for your emotional outburst. Just open your mouth," Dr. Gavens practically bites out, his wrinkled face etching into a deep scowl.

Avalyn's eyes are barely open, heavy with the effects of the drugs coursing through her system. I can tell she's not used to them, the way they weigh her down, dragging her into a drowsy haze. As for me, I've grown somewhat accustomed to their numbing embrace, able to resist their sedative pull to some extent, though I never feel the need to. But in moments like these, I question whether my tolerance is a blessing or a curse.

I watch as Avalyn struggles to keep her eyes open, her face contorted in discomfort. A part of me envies her ability to surrender to sleep, to find solace in its embrace. After all, there's only so much reality one can bear before the need for escape becomes overwhelming. And as I sit here, grappling with the harshness of our circumstances, I can't help but wish to fall into a sleep-induced state as well.

Through the haze of drugs clouding my mind, one thought persists- the possibility of what they might make me do to Avalyn. I know what happens when I'm forced to bite someone, and though they're usually human, it's still at the forefront of my mind. I'm all too familiar after nearly two centuries spent being sold in auctions, used for the pleasure-inducing effects of my bite, and then subjected to whatever else the client desires next. Most of the time it's my hands or mouth, but when it's a man, I don't get that luxury.