Test Part 3

Minutes felt like hours before the drug slowly began to wear off.

The laughter slowed, leaving him panting and trembling. His throat felt like it had been shredded, and his ribs ached with every breath.

He turned his head weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

"Why... why are you doing this to me?"

Once again, there was no answer. They didn't treat him like a person. To them, he was no more important than the lab rats used for experiments.

One drug after another was injected into him, each one twisting his emotions in a new way.

Pleasure, then loneliness, then another overwhelming feeling. Each drug pushed him further into a cycle of insanity.

His mind couldn't keep up. The emotions came too fast, too strong, and he couldn't escape.

The pain, the humiliation, the overwhelming loneliness—it was too much. His body couldn't handle it anymore.

"I'll kill every one of you!" He gathered his last bit of strength and spat at one of the doctors, but the spit was blocked by a clipboard.

The tall doctor shook his head. "You're going to die soon. The least you can do for us is hold on longer so we can get more data."

Without waiting for a response, he turned to another personal "Inject him with Serum X."

"Are you sure, Doctor Sanders?" asked his subordinate.

Finally, Zayn learned the name of his tormentor.

"Yeah, this thing is going to die today anyway, so we might as well see how he reacts to it."

His subordinates nodded and began preparing.

The syringe they used was much larger than the others, filled with a thick, gooey black liquid that spilled over the edges.

There was no way it could circulate in his bloodstream.

But they injected it into him anyway, and what was worse, they poured it into his ears for some sick reason.

"ARGHHHH!" He roared in anger as the needle pierced his eardrum.

As the black substance flowed into his brain, his body reacted violently.

His nose began to bleed, and his eyes turned a dark shade of black, the bloodshot whites swallowed by the deep darkness.

The pain felt like his mind was being torn apart from the inside.

"Damn it..." he gasped, struggling to maintain his consciousness.

But the strain was too much. With one final, ragged breath, his internal organs gave out, and everything went black in a snap. 

The soft, mechanical beep of the monitor, signaling the end, echoed through the cold, sterile room.

It was a sound that should have sparked shock or sadness, but they just continued with their work. 

Dr. Sanders adjusted his glasses before giving an order.

"Dispose of the body."

"Yes, Doctor." Two lab workers stepped forward, moving efficiently, showing that they had done these many times before.

One of them grabbed a large black bag from a cabinet and unzipped it. 

The other removed the wires and machines attached to the Zayn lifeless body, working quickly and without any hesitation. 

When they were done, they released the straps. 

Next, they lifted him onto a metal cart, placed him in the body bag, and zipped it shut.

Dr. Sanders stood nearby, scribbling something on his clipboard before giving an order. "Tag it,"

The workers nodded, wrote down some numbers and letters, then clipped the paper to the zipper on the bag.

"Subject 6372," 

The cart's wheels squeaked as the workers rolled the body out of the room. The hallway they entered was dim and cold, the kind of place that felt lifeless and empty. 

After walking for about 20 minutes, passing through elevators and many more corridors, they finally stopped in front of the exit. 

When they opened the door, a large, empty spot revealed a truck waiting, its back doors wide open.

Inside, rows of body bags containing corpses were stacked randomly on metal racks.

They lifted Zayn's body and slid it into an empty spot, handling him like a piece of meat being packed away.

Once the body was secure, they stepped back, wiped their gloves on their coats, and shut the heavy doors with a loud bang. 

For these two workers, handling this kind of dirty job had long stopped affecting them.

What mattered most was the huge paycheck they earned from working here.

"Those doctors are really evil. I can't believe they've already killed more than 6,000 people. What are they trying to do?" one of the workers blurted out. 

"I'm going to shut up if I were you. You don't want to end up on that list, do you?" his colleague warned.

The worker scratched his head, not arguing back.

They might be getting paid well, but if there was one location close to hell in this world, it was this place.

This was a hub for everything evil—drugs, illegal experiments, games that toyed with human lives, trafficking, and many more.