Chapter: 9 INFERNAL PAIN

[Leo's POV]

Pain.

Immense, dreadful, and harrowing pain, that was the first thing I felt when I came to my senses.

It wasn't the sharp, fleeting kind of pain I'd known before.

This was the kind that tore through every nerve in my body, as though countless worms burrowed under my skin, gnawing and ripping it apart piece by piece.

I didn't even have time to open my eyes to see where I was. My world was nothing but agony.

At first, it was bearable. Barely. I gritted my teeth, clinging to the hope that it would pass. Minutes felt like hours. But then the horrors began.

It started with an unbearable itch, like thousands of ants crawling and biting across my skin.

Then, as if needles were being shoved into every pore from the inside out, the pain escalated. I could feel something oozing out of me, sticky and warm, black, gooey, and foul.

I screamed.

I screamed for someone, anyone, to save me. But no help came.

Time dissolved into a meaningless void as I thrashed, crying for mercy, begging for release.

But the pain only evolved. New, unthinkable tortures cascaded over me.

Suddenly, my muscles and bones felt like they were being crushed under an invisible weight, tons upon tons pressing down relentlessly.

The grinding, snapping sensation of my bones stretching beyond their limits filled me with raw terror.

Tears and snot streamed down my face, my throat raw and ragged from the constant screaming.

My body trembled uncontrollably, muscles tearing and rebuilding in a grotesque cycle.

Finally, through my half-closed eyes, I caught a glimpse of something—or someone.

A figure in a red lab suit stood behind glass, illuminated by the crimson hue of the room.

My thoughts scattered as another wave of pain hit me. This time, it felt as if a chainsaw were ripping through my flesh, shredding me to pieces, only to have the wounds heal so the process could start again.

I let out a roar—bestial, guttural, and raw. It was a sound I didn't even recognize as my own.

Numbness and Questions

After what felt like eternity, the pain dulled. My body went numb, the nerves likely too damaged to register any further torment.

For the first time, my mind began to clear. Thoughts began to form, though sluggish and scattered.

'Where… am I?'

The figure. That man. Why was he just standing there?

Was he the one doing this to me?

If so, then…

I will make him suffer.

That thought burned through the haze of pain like a beacon. But another question clawed its way to the surface—a question that chilled me to my core.

Why was I here? I shouldn't be in this hell. I should be at home. With them.

With Liya and Ron.

Suddenly, memories flooded back, rushing into my mind like a broken dam.

The Memories

I saw Liya—her tear-streaked face, her arms reaching for me as soldiers surrounded her. I saw Ron, his body riddled with bullets, lifeless on the ground.

And then the sword.

I had screamed for them to stop, begged for them to spare him. But I had been too late.

The image of Ron's severed head and Liya's screams pierced through my mind like a dagger, sharper than any pain my body had endured.

The torture I was enduring now—inhumane, unbearable—suddenly felt insignificant compared to the abyss opening in my chest.

Are they… dead?

The question twisted inside me, ripping me apart more than any serum ever could.

No.

The denial came instinctively, a desperate cry from my soul. They couldn't be dead. They had to be alive.

I clung to that hope, fragile and fleeting. I told myself that if I could just escape this place, I would find them waiting for me. Liya's smile. Ron's laughter. They'd be there, waiting.

They had to be.

Despair and Determination

Fueled by that thought, I tried to move. I had to escape. I had to go home. But then, an itch assaulted me—a sharp, fiery sensation like ants burrowing into my skin.

Without thinking, I began to scratch. My nails tore through my own flesh, leaving jagged, bleeding wounds. Clumps of my hair fell away with every frantic motion.

More blood poured from me, and the sticky black substance returned, seeping from every pore.

My strength gave out. My body crumpled, broken and battered. My vision blurred as I drifted toward unconsciousness.

The Final Thought

As the darkness closed in, one final thought seared itself into my mind, a promise, a vow.

If I escape… if I survive this hell…

I will kill that man.

Not quickly. Not mercifully.

I will make him suffer. I will make him feel every ounce of pain he has inflicted upon me, multiplied a hundredfold.

And with that thought, I let the darkness take me.