'Subject 666...?'
The words echoed inside Azriel's mind, relentless, like a twisted refrain he couldn't shake. He felt trapped, caged within his own body, unable to scream or even move, forced to simply watch through his eyes as the man in the white coat moved toward a metal tray on the side of the room.
Azriel's gaze followed, though not by choice, as if some invisible force compelled his body to obey. He could feel the pain—throbbing, deep, a raw agony that pulsed through his limbs and filled him with dread. His face, his body… they ached in places he didn't know could hurt.
But something else sent a chill down his spine. A mirror hung on the far wall, reflecting his image back at him.