Page 2 of Hollyhocks

The abuse, the torture, and the pain, I can’t handle any more of it. I wish my heart would stop beating. All I want is peace. I can’t do this anymore. My bones are tired. They are beyond aching.

They have been broken more times than I can count. I’ve been assaulted, used, pricked, and prodded. I’ve had my legs spread more than I have in my entire life. For pleasure, for pain, for curiosity to see what I look like between my thighs, and I’ll never be able to scrub the doctors’ heated looks from my mind.

I don’t understand why they just won’t kill me now. Instead, the fascination in the doctor’s eyes as I die will be the last thing I ever see.

Glasses shakes his finger at me with a snort-like chuckle. “You say you don’t like power—” he curls over me, hands on either side of my head as he grips the table, “—but I don’t believe you. Everyone loves power, Holly. Everyone craves to be at the top.” He wraps a strand of my hair around his finger and then brings it to his nose. The wretched man inhales until his eyes roll to the back of his head. “You smell so good. I’ve always loved your naturally sweet scent. Do you like your blue hair? Another wonderful addition that enhances your beauty. We haven’t figured out if it’s the chameleon or siren DNA, regardless, it is such a shame the world won’t be able to experience you.”

I lift from the table, fighting against the restraints, cursing him behind my silencer.

“Shh. Shh. I know. It isn’t easy.” He skims his knuckles down my cheek. “You won’t die alone. I’ll be here.” The evil doctor stands, walking over to the sterile stainless-steel counter.

Picking up my file, Glasses opens it and clicks his pen, his beady eyes skimming the information of what they have done to me.

“I think you deserve to know who you are before you die, don’t you? As you know, you are part succubus, meaning you can invade dreams and feed off sexual desire. You must feel mine for you.” Glasses bites his lips, his eyes roaming down my very naked, very vulnerable body. “The things I would do to you. Maybe I will before you die so I know what those tentacles in that tight cunt are like.”

“Fucking try it!” I don’t know why I bother saying anything when the words can’t be understood.

Licking his finger, Glasses flips the page. “It is also why you have light purple skin, but it also changes with your surroundings—thank the chameleon DNA. I would show you, but that would mean unstrapping you from the table, and we can’t have that. This table is what stops you from using yourabilities.” My captor steps forward, squatting, caressing my feathers. “These gorgeous wings are from your harpy DNA. Did you know harpies are considered guardians of the underworld and some are even known to have the ability to predict the future? I’d be so curious if you had that gift, but you don’t have enough time for that.”

Glasses skims his fingers down my arm, caressing my ribcage. My stomach trembles with fear and disgust. The soft pad of his finger has bile daring to spew from my mouth as it trails down my thigh.

“Your scales come from the siren DNA. And these fins?” The man I hate more than anything in this world grabs a spray bottle and sprays water on my fins, so they don’t dehydrate. “Also the siren, which is also where your voice comes from, but you know that already, don’t you? You know, Franklin, your guard, still isn’t right in the head after you used your voice on him last week? He’s still mumbling in our hospital room about how much he needs you.”

Good.

Shows him what happens when he touches someone without permission.

“Clever girl, aren’t you? You don’t even know how to control your powers, and yet, you figured out how to use them. It’s magnificent. As if it is almost natural to you. Shame you aren’t strong enough to handle what we give you.”

The grotesque fingers drift to the inside of my leg, migrating up to my knee, then my thigh.

“Your tentacles are from the squid DNA. Remember when we forced you to orgasm, and you squirted black ink? Staining the sheets?” His desire is rancid as it fills the air, turning my stomach as if I’m scenting rotten milk. “So fucking beautiful. Perhaps, the next test subject will handle the same DNAinjections, but nothing will take the place of Patient 013025.” His thumb skims the lips of my pussy. “You.”

He dips his hands below and my tentacles stretch from my hole, snake around his arm, suction to his wrist, and squeeze.

“Ah, fuck!” His scream of agony brings me more pleasure than I have felt in a long time.

“Fuck. You.” I yell behind the strap, narrowing my eyes as I tighten the hold on him.

Sweat builds above his brows as he tries to yank himself from my grasp, but the tentacles add more pressure to his bones. I want him to feel what I have been feeling all these months, lying here, strapped and defenseless while they do whatever they fucking want to me.

I’m dying anyway. I need to make this worth it.

I give every ounce of strength I have left inside my will and snap his wrist. The sweet sound of his bone breaking is a song I could listen to on repeat. He cries in terror, but no one can hear him because this room is soundproof due to my entrancing voice.

They didn’t want to take any chances.

I inhale a deep breath, exhausted from all the energy I’ve used, and struggle to catch my breath. With every wheeze, I can hear the fluid pop and crackle in my throat.

“You fucking bitch!” he screams, lifting his hand in the air. The bone is protruding out of the skin, and I can’t hold my smile back. Even behind the leather strap, I know my joy can be seen.

It’s the singular moment of happiness I’ve had since I’ve been here.

Blood drips down his forearm and the sharp point of his bone is the most beautiful part of him I have ever seen.

He stumbles backward and smacks against a tray of surgical tools that falls to the floor with loud clinks. Glasses bends down, holding his hand to his chest, and snags a scalpel.

“I’m glad you’re dying. You’re weak, pathetic, and a useless specimen. It’s your fault for what happens to the next test subject. Remember that as you die.”

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