Eternal Torment: The Price of Immortality

In the beginning, it felt like a blessing. The ability to regenerate, to heal from any wound or injury in a matter of moments. I was invincible—or so I thought. But as time wore on, the true cost of my gift became painfully clear.

It started innocently enough. A scrape here, a cut there—nothing I couldn't handle. But then the offers began to pour in. Scientists, doctors, and even governments clamored for access to my extraordinary abilities. They saw me not as a person, but as a commodity, a never-ending source of life-saving organs for those in need.

At first, I resisted. I refused to be treated like a lab rat, to have my body dissected and exploited for the benefit of others. But they were relentless, their methods cruel and relentless. They kidnapped me in the dead of night, drugged me into submission, and dragged me to their clandestine facility.

And that's when the nightmare truly began.

I awoke on an operating table, bound and helpless, surrounded by masked figures with scalpels gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light. Panic surged through me as I realized the true extent of their intentions. They weren't interested in my well-being—they were harvesting me for parts.

Each incision sent waves of agony coursing through my body, but no matter how much they cut and carved, I remained alive, my flesh knitting itself back together as quickly as they could damage it. It was a grotesque cycle of torture and regeneration, a never-ending nightmare from which I could not escape.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, as they drained me of my life force, stripping away pieces of my very being with each brutal surgery. I begged for mercy, for release from this hellish existence, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. To them, I was nothing more than a means to an end, a resource to be exploited until there was nothing left to give.

And so I languished in darkness, trapped in a living hell of my own making. With each passing day, my body became a patchwork of scars and wounds, a testament to the cruelty of those who sought to control me. But even as they took everything from me, I clung to one shred of humanity—a sliver of defiance that refused to be extinguished.

In the end, it was that defiance that saved me. With a surge of strength born of desperation, I broke free of my restraints, tearing through the facility like a vengeful specter. The doctors fled in terror, their carefully laid plans crumbling before them as I unleashed the full force of my wrath upon them.

But as I stood amid the wreckage of their twisted experiments, I knew that my ordeal was far from over. The scars on my body would fade in time, but the scars on my soul would remain forever—a reminder of the true cost of immortality.