The Addict

Lying on the table, I trace back the steps that led me here.. again. It's a paradox, how something so venomous can make me feel so alive. I'm an addict, and she's my dealer.

"Brace yourself, this might sting," she says with a smirk. Her tools, in a dance of pokes and prods, bring a necessary pain, the gateway to my transformation.

"Done," she states, twisting her wrist with finesse. A vibration hums in my forearm, neon pulsing beneath skin and chrome, awakening the machine within.