She was genetically modified.
Perfect, some would say. Perhaps it was a gift. Perhaps it was a curse.
She was ignorant back then. She believed it to be a blessing. But as time went on, the girl began to doubt if she was even real.
She was never good enough. Her father was disgusted with her. With his experiment.
With his own daughter.
She ran away, finding herself working with Cerberus. It was an organization dedicated to helping humanity. Cerberus had become the woman’s priority. She had the life she wanted.
But there was something missing.
The Cerberus officer grimaced at the mirror, her hand lightly grazing her stomach. She took a deep breath, watching as a tear trailed down her face. Memories flooded back to her, the ugly bruises that covered her body returned, the yells of her father replaying in her mind. She let out a sob, shaking her head violently. He was a monster. He was terrible. She only wanted the chance to give her children a better life than she ever had.
But she would never be able to.
He slides the materials across the table, watching as she slowly picks up the pen.
“Write.” he says, “Write what’s on your mind.”
Quickly, she scribbles on the paper, turning it so the therapist is able to read it.
‘I have nothing on my mind.’
He frowns, turning it back.
“You can tell me.” he says softly. The woman picks up the writing utensil as she slowly places it on the paper. He looks away for a brief moment, watching as the raindrops race down his window. A shuffle breaks him out of his trance, the piece of paper placed in his hand. The doctor frowns at the scribbles, the black ink soaking into the paper.
‘I’m sor-‘
He quirks his eyebrows as the sentence is crossed out.
‘I need you to’
He purses his lip as she shifts in the seat, playing with her fingers. Everything on the paper had been crossed out.
“What do you want me to do?”
She grabs the paper, writing so hard he fears the paper might tear.
‘I can’t tell you. But it clouds my mind.’
“I need you to tell me,” he tells her quietly, leaning in, “what do you need me to do?”
He stares into the eyes he had fallen in love with. The eyes that mesmerized him. Silence fills the room as she stares at him with those blank, dull eyes that had once been happy. She opens her mouth, speaking for the first time in months, though it’s barely above a whisper. Her voice cracks.
“Save me.”
“Shepard, you sure about this?”
“I’ll be fine, Joker.” the green-eyed woman replied quickly.
“…Aye aye, Commander.” the pilot replied, turning off the intercom.
She was going to the crash site. She had been avoiding it; but it was selfish of her to. Shepard had to do it for her crew.
“We’re here, Commander.” the intercom buzzed.
The raven-haired woman stood up, glancing at Garrus as she opened the door, stepping out into the snow.
“Take your time, Shepard.” the turian said quietly. “I’ll be here.”
She turned her head slightly, nodding. Quickly, she stepped through the snow, finding the dog tags of her old crew mates. Her jaw clenched as she read the names.
“You did well. It was an honor working with you all.” she whispered, her fingers running over the tags.
The woman walked towards the debris, images of the ship flashed in her mind.
You’re hallucinating. It’s not here anymore.
She crouched, burying her face in her hands.
It’s not real. It’s not real.
Shepard stayed there for a moment; her eyes shut tight as she tried to force the memories away. She walked back to the Normandy, Garrus waiting for her.
He gave her a questioning look, waiting for her to say something.
“Garrus-” she stopped, letting out a sob.
“Hey…” Garrus grabbed her by the arm, pulling her into his arms.
“I know, Shepard. I know.”
Those eyes.
He knew those eyes.
The turian stopped abruptly, his eyes following the woman. Questions raced through his mind as the raven-haired soldier quickly made her way through the mercs, a hooded figure and woman in a white bodysuit following. The mercs yelled, snapping the vigilante from his trance.
He had heard rumors, but he was reluctant to believe anything on Omega.
Garrus lost sight of the woman, his eyes darting towards the remaining enemies. As she weaved across the bridge, he fired a concussive round at Shepard, grinning as the spectre frowned as she took cover.
Soon enough, the mercs were cleared out. Garrus watched as the green-eyed woman reloaded her assault rifle, walking up the stairs. Part of him became excited as her footsteps became closer- she had been gone for two years. Two years without Shepard. Yet fear and confusion clouded the turian’s mind.
She was dead. Joker had seen her die. How was she still alive?
“Archangel?”
He became tense, her tired voice now foreign to him. Swiftly, he turned towards her and the two women, taking off his helmet. A confused, shocked expression appeared on her face, immediately replaced by a blank expression he couldn’t read.
“Garrus.” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
His mandibles flared as he nodded at her.
“Good to see you again, Shepard.”
It keeps going and going-
a never ending cycle.
Forget it all.
Run, run, til it all disappears.
Atrocious.
I’m leaving you.
Love is atrocious.
She stared out the window, watching as the tiny drops of water raced down, colliding with each other.
He had left her.
He left.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, shaking her head, turning away.
The woman bit her lip, anger flooding through her as she tried to ignore the lump in her throat.
You were the very reason I breathe for, but now you’re suffocating me.
They were always doing well, until recently. Things had been tense. A glance would become misunderstood; words became twisted. Insults were thrown around carelessly, anger getting the best of them, regret washing over them soon after those words were spoken.
She screamed at him, her eyes widening as soon as she saw his bewildered expression. A flash of anger appeared on his face, as he walked towards her. Fear took over her as she watched him inch closer to her face.
“Say that again. I dare you to.”
She shuddered, feeling his hot breath against her. His hand wrapped around her neck, his grip loose. Tears threatened to spill, but she stared at him, her lips in thin line.
“Leave.” the girl ordered, her voice showing a hint of fear.
He scoffed, removing his hand, quickly exiting before taking a glance at her.
Atrocious.
Human are atrocious.
She closed the door, dropping her keys onto the counter. The young woman walked clumsily towards the couch, obviously drunk. Slowly, the female sat on the couch, sighing loudly, her head buried in her hands.
“Pitiful…” she mumbled, shaking her head.
“You’re so damn pitiful…” she said, letting out a chuckle.
The woman had never shared her problems, regardless of how close she was to anyone. She had learned the hard way that it was better to keep everything to herself, rather than sharing her problems and involving others. It was unnecessary to tell people about your problems. It would only make it worse. Bottling it all up didn’t help, it only led her to the bar, making her end up in this condition. If she couldn’t tell others or keep it all to herself, what could she do? She laid down on the couch, looking around the room. The laptop was on the coffee table, right next to her.
“Webcam?” the girl muttered, sitting up and turning on the laptop, looking into the webcam.
She stared at the screen, unsure of where to begin.
“I’m 24.” the woman said with uncertainty, trying to gather her thoughts. She took another deep breath, continuing on.
“He cheated. He lied. All of them do. I was just…stupid to realize, and you know, I ended up like this.” she laughed, shrugging.
“Hah…pathetic. That’s what I am. Pathetic.” the 24 year old began laughing even more, although she didn’t know why.
“I’m just some fool that doesn’t know anything, a fool who just gets trampled on by everyone else.” the laughter had disappeared, only to be replaced by tears.
She shook her head, sobbing while covering her face. The woman wiped her tears, looking at the girl on the screen, her makeup running down her face. Eventually looking away from the screen, she slowly got up, walking into her room. A couple of minutes later, she returned, a gun in her hand.
“Hah, you see this?” the female asked in an amused tone, waving the gun around. “I bought this thing to fucking protect myself, but you know what? I have nothing. Nothing that anyone wants, I don’t have anything. I’m just some fucking useless person who shouldn’t be here.” she laughed, a tear falling from her face.
“I thought someone would actually step in and save me. What was I thinking? I didn’t even tell anyone. You know what? It’s okay. It’ll be alright. I’ll be fine.” with every word the adult said, she began spitting out the words rapidly.
“Wanna know why? Because I have this.” she waved the gun in front of the webcam.
“Do you know why I keep talking? It’s because I keep hoping that someone will just burst in and save me, but I know better than that. So, I guess it’s goodbye.” the girl stared at the screen, tears trailing down her face. She forced a bitter smile, putting the gun to her head.
And the trigger went off.
Spoilers for Final Fantasy 13 (literature)
Fighting fate.
I wonder,
Is it possible?
To change fate?
L’Cie.
The slaves of the fal ‘Cie.
The result of failing to complete your focus?
Becoming a Cieth.
We’ve all been branded.
Judged.
Feared.
Despised.
The cursed arrows that frighten everyone.
Is it a gift?
To be able to cast magic?
To summon eidolons?
The path has been set upon us all.
We are L’Cie.
Our mission?
To become Ragnarok and destroy Cocoon.
Your bitter laughs,
Linger in the air.
Seemingly following me everywhere.
And you judge me,
And you talk behind my back.
You say words that should be never said.
And you tell stories that are full of your hideous lies.
And somehow,
Everyone thinks you’re that perfect little girl.
You’re admired.
People will help you no matter what,
You can walk all over them.
They wouldn’t give a damn.
But me?
I’m looked down on.
I’m despised and hated.
They see my tears.
But they wouldn’t give a damn.
“You’re going to die, you know.”
He chuckles lightly, a weak smile forming on his face. “You don’t need to tell me again.” Read More
She walked towards him slowly, pointing the sword at the male. He smiled faintly at her, putting his hands up as a sign of surrender.
The woman placed the sword back into the sheath, crossing her arms and looking away from the man. He followed her gaze into the distance, his smile fading.
“You know we have to kill each other one day.” the raven-haired man said bluntly, facing towards the brunette.
She nodded slowly, a grim expression on her face.
“I know.” the woman said quietly, frowning at the sight of the dead soldiers.
“So, who’s it going to be?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at her.
“Eh?” the girl looked at him, her eyebrows narrowed.
“One of us has to die, right?”
She sighed loudly and avoided his gaze, biting her lip.
He walked towards her, lifting her chin with his hand. The brunette scowled and tried to slap his hand away, but he grabbed her wrist, a smirk growing on his face. The girl immediately flinched when he closed the gap between pair.
“What the hell are you doing?” she growled, anger building in her as she saw his amused expression.
“Making things easier.” he replied, watching the brunette’s face grow with confusion.
“What? How is this ma-” she stopped when he abruptly pulled her into a hug.
“I’m sorry.” he murmured, taking his sword out of the sheath.
Her eyes widened and she began to panic. “Wait, what are you-” she gasped at the sudden pain jolting through her.
“It had to happen. It would only be more painful if we continued on like this.” he muttered, taking the sword out from her back.
She cried out in pain, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to make the pain disappear. The man looked away, backing away from the woman as she fell.
“I’m sorry.” he whispered, walking away.
The crowd roars loudly, filled with excitement.
A person steps out from the shadows, silencing the audience.
It is a tall woman, the right side of her face covered by a silver mask.
Her lips form a sly smile, her eyes filled with amusement.
The spectators watch her carefully, waiting for her to speak.
“Ah, yes. I see you all have come today for a special performance.” she says in a smooth voice, the smirk never leaving her face.
The crowd cheers loudly; watching as others come out from the shadows. There is a woman with an eye patch covering her left eye, her face lacking any hint of emotion. She holds a ribbon baton, her grip loose. A male with a top hat steps out, wielding a whip. They stand next to the ringleader, their heads held high. The woman with the silver mask puts a finger on her smiling lips, closing her eyes.
“Are you ready?”
The audience responds brightly, making the ringleader nod.
Welcome to the circus.
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