Skeppy's Pov:

Sometimes, I think to myself if anyone in the world would be willing to hear my life story. Then, I would quickly shake that thought away at the reality that nobody would. And even if someone did listen to it, they would end up not caring, finding it boring. Because I'll just be honest, my life... could barely be considered a life. It's like I haven't been living since all I have ever done is do the same things almost every day, a repetitive cycle. In short, my life has been miserable since forever, if I can even call it a life. Well... I'm actually exaggerating when I say forever because I know that in reality, it hasn't been forever since I've been living this miserable life.

I had a happy life once. Or, at least, I must have. I don't remember that life much. All I know is that I had parents and an older sister. But I didn't get to enjoy that life for long. This is because I was given this miserable life at a very young age. The happy life that I can't even remember properly was brutally taken away from me when I was four. A four year old child was brought into a miserable life, suffering at such a young age. It isn't normal to suffer that much so young. ...Or is it? I honestly don't know for sure. As I said before, I have barely even been living a life, so I wouldn't know if suffering at four years old is considered normal or not. If it is normal, then this world truly is f*cked.

Even though I can barely remember the life I had before this miserable one, I can somehow clearly remember the day that resulted in me being trapped into this miserable life. ...Is it normal to remember a traumatic day so clearly even when so young? I wouldn't know as the only people I have interacted with since I was four have never spoken about any sort of trauma with me. It's not like they would ever do it willingly anyway.

I remember that unfaithful day so well... the pain, the fear, the things I saw, almost every detail I remember so well from that day. I don't want to explain the whole story right now as it would be too painful to think about... maybe it will be told another day. But in short... as far as I understood in that day when I was oh so young, my town was invaded by some people. There was no warning or hint of destruction and pain coming our way. The destruction brought onto my community and home from those people came like a tornado. It comes out of nowhere and is unpredictable of where it will go, how long it will last, and how much destruction it will leave behind. The worst part is that when it goes away, it leaves behind the destruction so quickly as if it was worthless, with no ounce of sentiment or guilt of what it did.

But in this occasion, the tornado left behind a breeze, sometimes turning into a strong wind, that continuously attacks a poor piece of debris that has already been destroyed. Over time, that piece of debris breaks down, basically turning into small pieces of dirt and sand. Utterly useless, and it is basically impossible to put back together. It would be a waste of time to figure out where the pieces even connect, as you can barely even hold a grain of dirt or sand in your hand from how small it is. In this story, that unfortunate piece of debris is me.

For some reason, the cruel world decided to continuously punish me for no reason at all. I mean, what's the worst thing that a 4 year old child could possibly do to deserve such a cruel fate? ...I wouldn't know, that's for sure. My fate was decided by the sole fact that I was the last piece of debris remaining that... seemed mostly intact even though it was much clearly destroyed. That's right. I'm the last of my bloodline. Or what the people currently around me like to say is that I'm the last of my "kind".

The destruction came by so quickly, that nobody was even given a chance to evacuate, a chance to flee. Nobody really prepared for such a disaster to happen, because nobody expected it. Everyone thought that our town, our community was hidden well enough. ...I'll get to the reason why that is later. The only chance that anyone was given for survival was to hide within our own community that was supposed to be hidden well enough for nobody to find. ...So that is exactly what we did. Hide. It was the only thing we were good enough to do other than our "gifts".

I remember very well that I was hiding myself. I was hiding with my mother and sister. My father... didn't reach our hiding spot in time. We ended up getting found. My mother tried to defend my sister and I, but it was pointless. The men were much more prepared than us. The whole town was set on fire, each building burned to a crisp. But somehow, I survived the fire put in my own house. Nobody else survived. The men wanted more people to survive, but I guess they forgot that detail through their joy of beating us up, killing us, and burning our homes. I wish I had died that day. I'm not just saying so that my suffering would have ended. Oh, no. It's so that these cruel people wouldn't have been given the chance to be greedy and take from me as much as they wanted, even though I barely have anything. They don't deserve the benefits they get from me after heartlessly killing my own community.

After the destruction of my town, I awoke in a lab so that scientists and doctors, people who were involved in the destruction of my community, could do tests and experiments to see what use I could be to them. They soon found out that in my blood, there is a healing factor that could be used for medicines and cures to any illness or disease. So, for their own benefit, they took the opportunity to collect as much blood from me as they could. You are probably thinking that they used syringes to take my blood. It is actually quite rare for them to do that. Why? Because it's not 'entertaining' enough for their sick pleasure of seeing someone so lowly, someone who is considered a whole other species suffer.

They would abuse me, beat me, and cut my skin, anything that they found to be entertaining in order to drain as much blood from me as possible. There have been countless times when I have been on the brink of death because of the use of their own fists or weapons. Ever since I was taken away, basically kidnapped from my destroyed community, there has not been a single day where there has not been a bruise or wound on my body. It doesn't matter if it is old or new. It is still damage shown on my body. It is quite rare when a day passes where I have not been hit at least once, since sometimes they would hit me not with the intention of draining blood because I was healing, but just because they felt like it.

Somehow, scars are never left behind on my body. But I guess that that is just exterior proof of how there is a healing factor in my blood, as I have no recollection of ever getting sick as well. They said that I heal too quickly for regular humans, further proof of how I'm not a regular person. I have decided that the healing factor in my blood is the most unfortunate thing about me. If it weren't for my blood, perhaps I would only be hit for entertainment and not for the purpose of my blood being drained from me, and perhaps I would have been given the mercy of death by now. I am sure that the times when I should have been dead resulted in me not dying because of my blood. If it weren't for my blood, I would have taken longer periods to heal, and perhaps I would have been given breaks, and my torment wouldn't be so constant.

But my blood is not the only thing being used for the benefit of these greedy people. It's probably the most important detail about me, as it is the sole reason why I was brought here and why my community was destroyed in the first place. It is the thing that I have been constantly told of why I'm so different from everyone else who works at the lab. Why I'm not human. You see... for generations, my people, my species, my 'kind' have hidden in the town that I was born in. We all had one thing in common. We all had the power to create diamonds.

There is no limit to the amount of diamonds that we can make. This is why we hid. To stay away from all the greedy people who would want to use our valuable diamonds. We hid away hundreds of years ago. We were confident that we were forgotten by everyone from outside our community. Tales of our existence lost in time. We believed we would be at peace forever. We were wrong. We were careless. We were cowards. We were what they call monsters. And because of that, our whole town, our whole population, had to perish. To suffer. And only I remained from the ruins. I continue to suffer every day because of my bloodline. My species. The place I was born in. My power.

In my community, it was told that we had this diamond making power because long ago, we were blessed by the gods with this gift. In the eyes of those who were considered to be normal wanted to take advantage of us and our power, they didn't want to cooperate. They wanted to control us. So we hid. Through my experience and countless thinking (you could only imagine how much time he has to think, to be trapped in his own thoughts), I have come to the conclusion that our power was not a gift, but a curse. Why else would we be called monsters? Why else did we feel forced to run away and hide? Why else did the world have it against us? Why else did our community get destroyed? Why else does the sole survivor have to continue suffering?

The scientists and doctors found a very valuable use to my diamonds. And I don't mean that they could just trade my diamonds for money. You see, my diamonds are made from magic, from power within me, and years ago when my bloodline received this gift, for some reason, it was made so that the diamonds would be nearly indestructible. Nothing, if not, almost nothing could break them. Natural diamonds are already considered practically indestructible, but the ones that my bloodline creates take it to the next level.

But the people at the lab somehow found a way to melt the diamonds and make them malleable enough to include in the making of weapons such as guns and knifes. Since the diamond is put in the weapons, the weapons become indestructible to break. I could only imagine that they sell the weapons for a profit, just like the medicine that they make with my blood. Once they need a new batch of weapons, I am brought to a room in the lab to magically make the room be filled with big chunks of diamonds. After that, I am taken away, and they do whatever the f*ck they do to collect the diamonds and turn them into weapons.

I could refuse to make diamonds, but they have threatened me with even more torture if I don't follow their orders. Even though I know that the abuse will never end, I try as best as I can to minimize the amount of torture that is brought upon me. At this point, it is the only thing I hope for each day, for there to be as minimal amount of pain brought to me as possible. Experiencing endless pain has turned into my normal, so if I'm only hit a counted amount of times a certain day, I consider it to be a good day. But I'm just gaslighting myself.

There is no such thing as having a good day in this place. I haven't even smiled for the past 20 years. Oh, right. Did I mention that I'm 24? Must've slipped my mind. Honestly, since I never see a clock or go outside of the lab, I can never really tell how much time has passed. I never know what day of the calendar it is. Except for my birthday. When I first was put in the lab, I was asked for when my birthday was. If I never told them back then, I would have probably forgotten along with most memories of my life before the lab. But even on my birthday, they have never been merciful or given me some sort of break from the torture. I would know that it was my birthday because they would spend most, if not the whole day, torturing me. Making me feel even more miserable on my birthday.

I've gotten used to my miserable life. Every day feels like a cycle. Every day, I'm being utilized for something. For blood, entertainment, or for my diamonds. I barely catch a break. I've become hopeless after being in an endless cycle of misery for most of my life. I would say my whole life if it weren't for the fact that I remember a life before this one. ...There's absolutely no way I can ever go back to that life or anything similar from it. I've accepted my fate. I will die here, alone. Used for the rest of my life. There is no way I can ever obtain happiness. No way that I can ever smile. No way that I can escape. It would be a miracle if I ever found a chance to escape.

...Little I would know that for once in my life, I would be given a miracle.