Page 19 of Monsters Like Us
Before I slip away, I know one thing for certain: when I wake, I will not be the one stripped bare.
I will be the blade that destroys.
CHAPTER 16
Micah
Pain isthe first thing I taste when I wake. It’s metallic, like blood and battery acid on my tongue. My body jerks before I even open my eyes—a phantom twitch, my nerves still misfiring from the voltage.
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling of my room. They’ve put me back here, like nothing happened.
Four walls, a barred window, and the desk bolted to the floor. As if the straps and shocks were only another nightmare.
But I remember the reek of antiseptic. The leather biting into my wrists. The cadence of the machine’s hum before the switch flipped. The smug curl of Vale’s mouth as he pressed the button.
My body trembles again. And though my muscles ache with every breath, I peel the blanket back and look at myself. My sweatshirt is twisted around my chest, revealing thin, red welts across my skin where the straps bit deep. Burn marks litter my skin where the currents entered my body.
I sit up and pull my sweatshirt off with a wince. My muscles twitch with every heartbeat, like the current hasn’t quite let me go.
I flex my hands, watching them spasm. It should anger me. Instead, I savor it. Pain is proof I survived. It reminds me of my vow to never be powerless again. Every mark, every scar, every twitch is a stitch in the monster I’ve become.
Rage dulls the ache, sharpens the focus. I blame Vale, of course—his machine, his hunger to break me so he can prove he’s a god in a white coat.
But I blame the others, too. The faceless men in black who attacked me. Cowards hiding behind masks who didn’t dare to take me on until I was handcuffed.
And beneath it all, I blame my family. My sister. My parents. Their sins are the marrow in my bones, the reason every part of me hums with rage. They thought I was theirs to mold. To use. To ruin.
But the boy they tried to shatter became something else.
I remember their screams. The way my sister’s eyes widened when she saw the knife seconds before it slid into her skin. The way my parents’ faces twisted when I turned the horror back on them. They wanted to make me a victim. Instead, they made me a monster.
And monsters don’t beg. Monsters don’t break.
I curl my fingers into fists. The tremors keep running through me, sharp little reminders that I embrace. The pain is mine now. A mark. A promise.
Vale thinks he’s stripped me bare. But all he’s done is carve the vow deeper.
He wants me to be the thread. But I’m the needle. And needles pierce. They stitch. They bind.
He’s sewn his own ending. He just doesn’t know it yet.
CHAPTER 17
Katana
I haven’t seenMicah all day. Not at breakfast. Not during our free time in the morning. Not even lurking in the cafeteria at dinner with that unnerving way of looking straight through me.
It shouldn’t matter. It should feel like relief. Instead, the not-knowing gnaws at me, making my stomach twist and my nerves prickle.
During free time, I tell Marcy I’m not feeling well and I need to lie down. She eyes me like she doesn’t quite believe me, but finally nods, snapping, “Straight to your room, Katana. No wandering the halls.”
I nod, keeping my face as blank as I can manage. The second she’s gone, I move.
My pulse pounds as I slip down the corridor, counting doors, keeping my head down. Every step feels like it echoes too loudly in the sterile hallway, the fluorescent lights glaring judgment from above.
I stop in front of his door. My throat is so dry I can hardly swallow.
The little rectangle of reinforced glass is at eye level. I press forward, just enough to see.
