Amber Skies: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel (Book 2 of the 2136 Trilogy)

The searing pain was a familiar companion, a constant thrumming beneath Willow's skin. It was day 114 of her captivity, and the electroshock therapy had just concluded, leaving her body a sizzling, burnt mess. The air still smelled of scorched flesh, and her insides felt like a ruptured inferno. She lay in the cold, dark cell, the metal floor digging into her raw skin.

Her body spasmed, a thousand tiny insects crawling beneath her skin as her internal organs, miraculously, began to regenerate. The pain was excruciating, but Willow had learned to embrace it, a constant reminder that she was still alive. She clenched her hands, her fingers contorted like crow's feet.

Hours later, as the tremors subsided, a familiar rattle echoed through the cell. The security code was being typed in. Not again, she thought, a fresh wave of defiant anger replacing the pain. The hatch slid open, bathing the room in harsh, sterile light, and silhouetting the figure in the doorway. It was Doctor A.

"Haven't you had enough fun with me for one day?" Willow spat, her voice raspy, "Was one machine not enough for you!"