Ravage (Dance With My Demons, #3)

by Steph Macca

There comes a point where we adapt. You become so used to the trauma and pain that it's all you know. When it disappears, you don't know how to cope without it. Your body stays in that survival mode, constantly on edge until you start to go insane.

We don't have to become our trauma. We don't have to become the people who made us.

"But I'm a big believer in fuck around and find out."

She relaxes slightly. "And what's the plan if they do try to take me?" "We kill them," the three of us say in unison.

I'm going to kill them. No, I'll do worse than that. I'll become their living nightmare. If they want to play God, then I'll do them one better. I'll be the Devil. Except there'll be no 'for the good of the science' nonsense. It will be cold, hard revenge. They will suffer, until they beg me to stop. Even then, I'll keep going because death would be too kind for them. Death would be a sweet welcome and they don't deserve that.