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SHE ONLY KNEW PAIN. The young girl that they named 'Hesita', didn't know anything other than pain or it's equivalents. It didn't matter what day it was, the organization that had captured her, something she didn't know the name of, reveled in her torture. At some point, she hoped and she prayed that soon, the pain would go away. But she knew that in her current life, that she would never be as fortunate to be granted such kindness.

That's what made her believe that the world around her hated her. That she was only destined to be tortured and experimented on until the end of her days. It wasn't a happy thought for her, but how could Hesia have a singular happy thought when she knew what her life held for her. Her life was a continuous cycle of undying torture. And she would never be able to break free of it.

Her dark hair was twisted into fraying braids as she sat on her 'bed'. It wasn't that big of a bed, no bigger than a twin size, and all it had to cover it was a dark blue comforter and one pillow. Of course, she could have no bed and be forced to sleep on the floor. That's what made her think that perhaps all these people wanted to do was give her a power that they could use to their advantage. And that if they gave her decent living arrangements, that she would be more willing to work with them. To stand by them and do whatever the hell they wanted.

But she wasn't going to be used as their toy. She didn't care what they did to her anymore. She didn't. It was bad enough that they pumped her full of drugs and forced her to attempt a power that she couldn't do.

The scientists had wanted to grant her a supernatural ability, one that she didn't know. She believed that they were trying to give her an elemental power, possibly water or air. But it didn't take too long before they revealed to her that they were going to 'grant' her the ability to create and manipulate fire.

That was when the worst days of her life began.

After injecting her with numerous substances in order to give her the powers that they wanted for Project H.E.S.T.I.A. Her days were spent laying on a frigid operating table with her wrists bonded to the table so she couldn't squirm or attempt to fight them off. They didn't want a struggle to come out with her laying on the table, because they believed that if she fought against them, that it would tarnish their hard work. And with the number of substances that they were pumping into her veins, she could assume that their little project was incredibly expensive.

Which was probably why they had kidnapped her off of the streets of New York.

Her cerulean eyes were staring down at her hands, which were sitting in her lap. There was nothing to do as she was sitting in her cell, all she could do was just that. Sit there and wait for them to tear her from her bed and haul her down the corridors and into the room of Hell. Where she would spend hours on end until they were done with her. Done with the torture in order to get her to the point where they would have a weapon of mass destruction. Or something similar to that at least.

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