Just Broken | OOC Only

I don’t know where I am. The stench of saltwater seeps through the cracks in the air vents. It’s heavy, oppressive, clinging to my skin and my throat. My head is pounding, and my limbs feel weak, like they don’t belong to me anymore. But I remember being taken. I remember the silver-eyed droids—their grip cold and unforgiving, dragging me from my ship, shackling me in place, and escorting me down into this dark, suffocating place.
 
My restraints buzz with low energy pulses, keeping me immobile as I am dragged into a dimly lit chamber. There is no warmth in this place. The walls are smooth, metallic, and lined with wires that pulse like veins beneath translucent flesh. Everything feels… alive, breathing in sync with me, or maybe it’s the other way around.
 
Her presence enters the room long before she does. It’s a cold, suffocating thing, wrapping around my chest, pulling the breath from my lungs. When she steps into the light, I can’t look away. Her red skin gleams, slick with the dim reflections of the chamber’s low lighting, and her yellow eyes—gods, those eyes—seem to pierce straight through me.
 
She’s smiling. I think. It’s hard to tell, her mouth… there’s something wrong with it. Like it’s not hers. There’s metal gleaming in the shadows around her jaw, catching the light.
 
She introduces herself as Leth Rha, but there’s no warmth in her voice. It’s a mechanical hum, a distortion that feels far too soft for what she truly is. I can’t move. The restraints hum louder, tighter, until the sharp edges dig into my skin. My heartbeat quickens, but I can’t escape.
 
“Welcome,” she says. “You will serve me in ways you’ve never imagined.”
 
I try to speak, but no words come out. My throat is dry, and fear has clenched my jaw so tightly I can’t force the words through. But even if I could speak, what would I say? Beg for mercy? Plead for my life? There’s no point. I can see it in her eyes. Leth Rha has no mercy to give.
 
She steps closer, her eyes never leaving mine.
 
I try to pull away, to shrink from her gaze, but the restraints are too tight. I’m trapped, a bug caught in the web of something far greater than I could ever comprehend.
 
“I’ve been watching you,” she continues, circling me like a predator assessing its prey. “You’re afraid. That’s good. Fear is a powerful tool. It makes the mind… pliable.”
 
Then, it begins.
 
They strap me to a table. I feel the vibrations of the machinery moving below and above me, the whir of something mechanical closing in. I hear Leth Rha’s voice again, distant now, like she’s speaking from the other side of a chasm.
 
"The Lullaby is a gift," she whispers, though I sense no kindness in her tone. "It will quiet the noise of your mind, cleanse you of your distractions."
 
I try to fight against it, but the restraints hold firm. My muscles are useless, limp, paralyzed. I hear the click of the machines whirring to life, see the reflection of cold metal instruments as they lower toward me.
 
Then the noise begins—a low hum, rhythmic, pulsating in a way that feels alien, inescapable. It’s too deep, too low. It seeps into my bones, vibrating through every inch of me until I can’t separate myself from the sound anymore. My thoughts blur and twist, like they’re being squeezed and stretched in every direction at once.
 
My vision blurs, black spots creeping in from the edges of my sight. I hear voices. Echoes. Laughter. Leth Rha’s voice is the loudest among them, filling my head, digging deep.
 
“The Lullaby will sing for you now.”
 
I scream, but no sound comes out. Only the hum—the Lullaby. It digs into my brain, pulses in sync with my heartbeat until I can't tell the difference. Time begins to lose meaning, and in the deep recesses of my mind, something snaps.
 
Time has become a blur—a thick, black ooze that stretches and bends, pulling me deeper into the void. I don’t remember how long I’ve been here. Days? Weeks? Maybe longer. The Lullaby hums constantly now, even when the machines are silent. It hums inside my skull, pressing against the inside of my eyes. There’s no escape.
 
Every day—or night, I don’t know anymore—The droids drag me into a new chamber. Sometimes it’s the needles. Other times it’s the wires—thin, jagged lines of light that burrow into my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I feel them beneath the surface, burrowing, changing things.
 
At first, they forced me to repeat words—phrases that felt wrong in my mouth, foreign. I resisted at first, choking on them, fighting to hold onto who I was. But it didn’t matter. The Lullaby always brought me back. Always pulled me under.
 
"Serve," the word echoes, an invasive whisper slipping into the cracks of my thoughts.
 
"Obey," it presses against my will, heavier every time.
 
There’s something else now—something new. A cold, jagged pain in my spine. I try to move, but my body doesn’t listen. Not anymore.
 
The droids operate on me constantly, upgrading me, as Leth Rha calls it. Cold metal pieces replace parts of me—fingers, ribs, the base of my skull. I can’t feel my legs anymore. I can’t feel anything.
 
"Your humanity is your weakness," Leth Rha says softly, her distorted voice so close I can almost feel it against my skin. "But we’ll fix that."
 
The cold hum of the machines fills my world. My mind becomes static.
 
But the worst part isn’t the metal, the slicing, or the numbness. It’s the silence. The silence when the Lullaby finally fades, when they leave me in the dark, floating between waking and nothingness. I hear her voice—Leth Rha—calling from somewhere far away, telling me that I am being remade.
 
At first, I resisted. I screamed in my head, refusing to give in to the emptiness she was creating. But I’m not so sure anymore. I can’t remember my name. I can’t remember why I fought in the first place.
 
Maybe I’m just broken.
 
Maybe she’s right.