She was breathing hard.
It felt good to feel alive again.
To feel like a real person and not the mindless killing machine that Storm’s parents had turned her into.
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She waited until he got close.
He wasn’t vigilant around her anymore. He thought he had complete control over her. He thought she was his docile pet.
He was wrong.
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Charity stared at the sobbing, trembling man in front of her.
She supposed she should feel guilty that he was a mangled, bloody mess, but she felt nothing. The ability to feel empathy had been conditioned out of her.
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Charity had been wrong.
They hadn’t wanted to kill her.
They had wanted to use her.
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The dark grew darker.
The silence grew louder.
Charity felt like she was losing her mind.
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