24. Scarlett.

It was time to tell my story and let this rotten memory out of my mind. Remaining seated on the bed, I followed Mariella's tap and adjusted myself into a semi-sitting position.

Letting out another sigh, I spoke, the weight of the terrible memory clear in my voice. "It's a horrifying memory, one that had left me completely shattered. I guarded it with all my strength, knowing Damon couldn't handle it. It drained me, consumed me. It is the reason why I am so pissed off. It took everything that I had and little more to me to keep my secret."

The room seemed to grow heavier as the weight of the past pressed down on us.

Mariella gently caressed my arm, her emerald eyes locked onto mine. The tranquility in her gaze aimed to ease my tension, her voice now possessing an almost hypnotic quality. It felt as if she was enchanting me, enticing me to open up.

Unsure if it was a spell or simply her natural ability, I found solace in her touch. With a sigh, I shifted my gaze into the distance, triggering the unwinding of memories within my mind, evoking unwanted sensations and emotions.

Reluctantly, I began to recount my tale.

"It was meant to be a routine rescue mission, a noble endeavor, well, noble and noble, but anyway, this is my and my organization, to save innocent beings from the clutches of heartless individuals. Little did we know, it would be anything but ordinary. We were prepared, armed with snipers and a formidable team. My gear was meticulously packed, my very skin ready for the task at hand. I had put stuff lot of under my skin. The drone soared above us as we approached the facility."

The memory of my unwavering confidence in our preparedness resurfaced, a fatal flaw that would soon become clear. Continuing my narrative, I skipped inconsequential details, aiming to convey the essence of the experience. I was determined to tell her just as much as I liked, even if it meant that the memory would not come out fully. 

My voice held steady. "Then chaos erupted. The facility swarmed with guards, shattering our illusions of a smooth operation. Damn it, all I wanted was to save those people. The movers did their best to extract whoever they could, but the relentless guards impeded our progress at every turn. And the state of those poor souls...inhuman experiments, the stench of uranium lingering in the air. Sark awaited me, an integral part of the mission, but I hadn't even reached that stage yet. I hadn't even begun my search for Sark."

My story continued, and although I could have told it in more detail, I chose not to. Mariella was perceptive enough to understand what I shared.

It was a dark secret, one I hesitated to reveal, but I gathered my courage and spoke with a steady voice. "And then... they began shooting tranquilizer darts at me. Despite our strong armor, the darts pierced through, leaving a distinct sensation upon impact. Enemies evolved as we do. But what they didn't expect was my rage, displayed for all to see. I blew it wide open as this was not good a situation at all. However, my rage had a weakness: electricity."

As I mentioned my weakness, Mariella frowned, her touch offering comfort and connection.

I pressed on, explaining further. "Have you ever heard of Taser bombs? They are small metal spheres that emit electric shocks. One was thrown into the room, it hit me, and soon there were more thrown in as they that I was vulnerable, 8 or 6, filling it with thunderous bursts of lightning. At that moment, as the electricity overwhelmed me, suppressing my rage fully, the darts took effect. I couldn't tell who else was captured, but I knew I was."

Mariella sighed, her presence tugging at my mind. She was pulling the memory out of my mind.

Undeterred, I continued." It was a chillingly familiar scene. I woke up, my eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. The icy surface of the table sent shivers down my spine as I realized my limbs were tightly bound by spiked shackles. The room had a sterile, medicinal smell that stung my nostrils, and the constant drip of medicine kept me in a subdued state. "

I sighed. My story was all too familiar as this happened to me so often during that time, but I tried to be descriptive if I would help the memory come out. 

"They subjected me to a series of grotesque live autopsies, the sound of cutting and slicing filling the air. Each incision was accompanied by a sharp pain and a sickening squelch as tissue samples were taken. I had been through this before, but it was not getting any better. And then, he appeared. His youthful face bore a striking resemblance to the actors who had portrayed Spider-Man, but with a haunting similarity to his father. His look, the look of like I was just a piece of meat." 

Mariella looked at me, waiting for to story to continue as he tried to picture what this guy looked like.

I was getting on the roll with my prosaic storytelling, so I tried to paint a picture, not write a report. "His intense gaze locked onto mine, filled with a mix of anger and superiority. He spoke with a venomous hiss, his words dripping with malice. "My father was a trailblazer in this field, and you destroyed everything he worked for, everything he fought so hard to achieve. And yet, he defeated you countless times." He regarded me with disdain, treating me like nothing more than a mere object to be tortured."

Mariella, silently absorbing the horrors of my story, tried to pry the fragmented memories from my stubborn, hardened mind.

But the story continued to unfold. "The boy's gaze lingered on me, as he revealed his identity. "You don't know who my father is. It's Damien, or was it? Yes, that's right. I am Damien's son. He shared with me all the details of the twisted experiments he conducted on you. He left me his legacy, a collection of laptops filled with haunting recordings and dictation machine tapes. I know all too well what my father did to you."

Mariella was silent. I was good at this. My story had an impact.

My voice was still surprisingly strong as I continued, "The menace in his voice sent chills down my spine. "I know your capabilities, The flea, Mimi, or like my father liked to call you, Baby. And I intend to exploit them. But for now, you are the subject of our scrutiny. Tissue samples are being extracted, and we have a plethora of new drugs to test on you. Electricity is your weakness, so we shall exploit it to its fullest. As you may have noticed, your fingertips and toe tips have been coated in metal. They have hardened, now capable of conducting electricity. We will attach small electrodes to the tips of your toes and fingertips, delivering electric shocks directly to your nerves. Yes, you will feel it."

Mariella's expression shifted from concern to shock as she glimpsed fragments of my past through her unique abilities. Her hand instinctively recoiled, distancing herself from me in distress.

I continued my story, maintaining a soft, emotionless tone, refusing to let my own emotions resurface. "I can tell you, Mariella, that yes, it did. Then you really feel it. Every time they tested me, I got a new drug. They gave me an electric shock, sending jolts of pain through my body, just long enough for the medicine to kick in properly. And those drugs... they were a pain in the ass. The sedative hit me like a heavy fog, intoxicating my senses, and the smell of the sterile medical room made me nauseous. You wouldn't believe how many times they tried to brainwash me, using their manipulative techniques to program, to control me. "

She was silent as she continued to listen and same time pull this rot out of my mind, and I knew that if it had been Damon in this room, she would have clung to him. 

I felt no mercy as I told her more, "The constant sound of buzzing machinery filled the air, along with the occasional screams of others undergoing the same torment. Too many times, and of course, there was all the shed session equipment. The cold metal restraints digging into my skin, the sharp prick of needles injecting me with unknown substances. Damien's son, always lurking nearby, his words echoing like his father's, relishing in my suffering, telling me how he would have sacrificed his own body for his father without hesitation. He recounted every shed session as if he had been there. He told me he would have wanted his father to live so he could observe the maestro at work."

Mariella was silent, her presence looming over me as she delved into my mind, attempting to extract the memories. I could feel her probing, but I couldn't be certain if she was fully focused on removing that haunting memory.

I pressed on.

There was still more to the story. "Oh, I hated that guy, but when they pumped another rage blocker into me, there was no escaping the fury. It consumed me completely. I endured it for two grueling months, a little over two months. My entire group was wiped out by Damien's sadistic son and his merciless machines. People rarely survived, not for long. I don't remember everything, just fragments here and there, mixed with overwhelming emotions. But I do recall the constant feeling of fear and despair whenever I regained consciousness."

I let out a weary sigh, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield myself from the haunting memories. I had experienced every torment I had described, feeling the pain, the fear, the anger, yet I had buried it all deep within me.

Mariella furrowed her brow, determination etched on her face as she said, "Just finish. I'll rid your mind of this grotesque mess."

I gazed into the distance, my voice trembling as I continued, "I had been hooked up to the machine again. Sick. Exhausted. This time, they administered the fucking orange medicine. Even Damien's gel, a slimy substance, was used without mercy. He gleefully watched as the yellow liquid dripped, knowing that it would leave me as messed up as possible. Krychek was there too, a figure I couldn't harm, and then... nothing. Once again, they tried to brainwash me, but I was already drained. All the drugs and equipment had taken their toll, thanks to Damien's son."

My voice trembled uncontrollably as I tightly wrapped my hands around myself, desperate to suppress the shaking.

But the harrowing story was far from over, and somehow, I summoned the courage to press on. "He stared at me, his eyes filled with disdain, and uttered, 'How in the world did my father tolerate you for six months? It's impressive that you lasted that long and brought pleasure to him. But I've grown tired of you.' In those moments of silence, devoid of screams and suffering, he began subjecting me to new medications that heightened my senses and muddled my thoughts. Krycheck provided some drugs. It was a potent medicine that effectively scrambled my mind. And then, I screamed. My agonized cries echoed for what felt like miles, releasing an indescribable anguish. What was I expelling from deep within? Did this Damien boy revel in my torment?"

Mariella gazed at me, her expression overwhelmed, as she diligently worked to extract the putrid memories from my mind.

I had no choice but to continue. "There were stabbers infused with an herb and others that targeted the entire body. Laser shredders. The shredder, you see, was a peculiar contraption. It would descend upon you, enveloping you. Then, thin laser beams would slice through, emanating from the device above, the sender, and reaching the device below, the receiver. The laser possessed a unique ability to maneuver upon impact, evading obstacles and twisting through tissues. It could traverse great distances within the body, but it never emerged straight through the receiving device. He conducted experiments. Those lasers were of considerable strength. Once, a laser beam struck my right shoulder, snaking its way through my body, and ricocheting against my lungs, ribs, liver, and intestines. Eventually, it exited through my left hip bone. Along its treacherous path, it inflicted unspeakable damage. Oh, yes. And I felt every moment. Afterward, a cavity remained, into which they packed metal, drugs, and jelly. And so I continued to scream for what seemed like an eternity."

I sighed, my mouth parched, as phantom pains wracked my body. I desperately tried to bury the memories deep enough to numb the intensity.

My weary voice strained as I stubbornly continued, recounting the rest of the story. "Throughout it all, my rage simmered, blocker held, unable to be released. But my determination to escape this place and I was determined not to lose my straps. A group of evil witches and wizards noticed my struggle, watching as my straps began to drop. I patiently waited for the opportune moment. They had not given me a new blocker as I was pretty damn weak, so I had little rage about what I could summon and use and finally, I broke free. But before fleeing, I reached into Damien's son's chest, ripping out his heart, and ensuring his demise. After my escape, I found solace in an incubator for four months, under Colin's watchful care. However, even with his efforts, my recovery proved challenging. And so, when I got back on my feet for the next six months, I made it my mission to eradicate any trace of Damien's lineage from this world. I slaughtered the remaining thirteen, along with their innocent children. None of them were evil per se, but they were his relatives."

I fell into silence, a heavy sigh escaping me. The memories of the institution resurfaced, accompanied by the lingering phantom pains, the distinct smells, and the haunting sounds. I had to suppress these sensations, careful not to reveal my distress to Mariella.

She glanced at me briefly, her trauma clear, and she whispered, "I gathered as much the memory as I could from there. However, since certain parts of that memory were hazy, there might still be fragments lingering in the cave. We need a telepath to retrieve them. Any chance you'd reconsider and let Damon assist us? That was quite a remarkable tale."

I met Mariella's gaze and shook my head, resolute. "No, Damon has no place in this matter."

Furrowing her brow, she pondered for a moment, desperately searching for a way to change my mind.

After a brief silence, she spoke slowly, "Leaving that cave open could pose future problems. It was an extraordinary hiding spot for that memory. I had to employ pretty damn talented white power to locate it. Damon can genuinely help. He can close that cavity and leave a scar, ensuring it won't be an issue. Trust him. I understand the interrogation was far from ideal, an unpleasant experience, but Damon's telepathy seems tailor-made for you. He's your biological half. If you remove the telepathic barrier so I can communicate to him our plan here, he will assist us. Just rest in his arms, fall asleep, and when you awaken, everything will be better."

I glanced at Mariella, my muscles tense with anticipation. As I prepared myself for what was to come, I met her gaze and mustered my vampire strength.

"This time," I asserted, my voice steady, "we won't disclose anything to Damon. And you won't recall it immediately either."

Locking eyes with Mariella, I tapped into my willpower, fueling my vampire instincts.

"You still haven't convinced me about Damon," I stated, my words laced with frustration. "I had to erect a telepathic barrier because my thoughts were wreaking havoc on him, and I wanted to avoid the consequences. You can't fathom how I shielded myself from Damon's telepathy. Feel free to quote my fuckery. You'll find some delightfully colorful phrases. I'm alright, but I'm still fucked up by Damon. Yet, you know I'll bounce back."

Allowing Compulsion to take hold of her, I unlocked the telepathic connection and inquired, "So, was there anything else, or are you still seeking my opinion on Salvatore?"

Mariella furrowed her brows and responded, "No, your language is vibrant, and I even share some of your sentiments. However, I'll now go and relay a much more sanitized version of your thoughts to Damon."

I nodded, and as Mariella departed, I resumed my endeavors. My favorite TV series.