Where was I? Who am I? Did it really fucking matter anymore? My entire existence, my reason for being was to feel that hot sweet rush of the heroine in my blood again. I craved the wicked feel of cold steel against my veins again. Then the silence of adrenaline coursing through my body, my heart racing while I waited for the rush to take my mind away again. For those blissful few moments, I could forget all my pain, all those I had let down before. Their tortured faces as death claimed their souls morphing into abstract and swirling forms. Between my deranged peals of laughter, the tears of anguish would flow over my face, leaving lines of old make up behind. At first, the guards would regularly beat me for making so much noise, sometimes for no reason. But lately they had been keeping their distance, whispering of the lunatic behind the metal door, of the junkie that screamed and howled for her daily fix. Why they kept pumping the drug into me I did not know but I was beyond caring. I would lie for hours in a pool of my own vomit, scratching at the walls till the blood flowed from my fingers, watching with morbid fascination as the rats in my cell slurped up the warm liquid. They seemed so eager, clawing at every fibre of their being at life; so eager to escape the meaningless void of their existence. I maimed one the other day and sat in silence as the others slowly ate him alive. Hearing their teeth tear his flesh to shreds. No compassion or sympathy, just the cold brutality of life itself. Did he have any regrets or memories past before those he called brothers ended him, I wondered to myself.
I often saw the demon Fear in the weeks that passed by. He would enter my cell and watch with disdain as I curled up in the corner, shaking and biting the jagged edges of my finger nails. What was the bastard looking for as he stared in my eyes? Maybe resistance or signs of fire burning inside me, maybe he was looking for a play thing to rape and casually discard. But it would all be for nothing. An empty shell stared back at him, the will to fight gone from me.
I remember one night a few weeks ago when I heard him arriving down stairs. Natalov or Fear or what the fuck he ever wanted to call himself had been drinking, the smell of expensive Vodka permeating the air. He beat me to within an inch of my life that night, breaking my hand as he stepped on it. There was no pain or agony, just the dull void of my existence. The demon kept screaming at me, telling me to face him head on as he threw me against the cold stone wall of the cell. I wish I could have felt something as I reached for the glass shards and ran my razor sharp edge over my arms, enjoying the moment as Fear recoiled in revulsion. The warm blood ran tracer patterns down my limbs and slowly dripped to the floor. Natalov kicked me hard in the ribs and angrily stormed off as I sat smiling with blood streaming down my chin. The Dacha’s resident doctor had tried to fix me up but I would regularly open the wounds again, just to stick it to them again.
Suicide? Of course I tried it, how many times. The first two weeks were the worst, going from chewing my wrists to hanging myself with my clothes. But every time death spat me back into this hellish existence, tempting and teasing with the final release but never giving it to me. I was so close to the light, fingers reaching but falling painfully short. The worst night was barely a month ago when I hit a bad trip after an epic heroine bender, completely out of my fucking mind as I howled and wailed. In my delusions, the spectres of the ones I had failed came to me. My father, mother, Gavorche, Adelmar, their low moaning corpses twitching macabrely in front of my eyes. They judged me over and again and kept asking why I couldn’t save them. Why I wasn’t strong enough when it really mattered. The ones I loved, who carried me through the light and the dark died before my eyes that night again. Every unflinching moment of horror replayed as I held my head in agony, screaming for them to stop. I threw myself against the walls, harder and harder till I felt bones cracking and my body came to rest in a pathetic pile. Through the night, I lay alone on that cold stone floor, eyes raw and bloody with crying till the medics dragged me away to the infirmary in the morning.
Why couldn’t I just die? Was this a cruel and bitterly joke played by Death herself on me? All to punish me by keeping me alive, hanging on the edge of the final release. I was doomed to continue my doomed existence till she had enough of her play thing. Till she couldn’t stomach me anymore.
And then I found my answers.
Two days ago, the bitch finally showed up. I woke up one morning, still clutching to the remnants of last night’s high to find Death sitting on a stone bench, smoking a long, thin cigarette. Her red hair cascading in waves down her beautifully formed shoulders, she tapped the ashes away with an elegant if bony finger.
“Hello Helena.” She purred, ice cold blue eyes looking me over.
“Let me go, please just let me go.” I whispered from the floor, tugging lamely at the chains fastened to my feet.
“Not yet child, the circle is not completed yet.” Death lifted my chin with a finger but I twisted my head away in anger.
“Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this fate?” My teeth ground together as I spat the words out.
“It’s all about the balance.” She replied, sitting back and studying me intently.
“Fuck the balance! I never wanted this!” Suddenly, it all became too much for me and I sunk into a tight ball, grasping my knees tightly. My world was spinning out of control but the ending was so close to me, barely a meter away. I just had to reach out and touch her.
“The universe has other plans for you and it goes beyond any silly bet I have with my brother. Existence itself will put you to the test, to destroy and break you but if you are truly the chosen one, you will find a way to rise to your feet and stand resolute again. You will face horrors beyond the mortal imaginings of man; of shadows that would strike fear into the hearts of the bravest warriors but you will find a way to survive against all odds.” Death grasped her bony fist in her palm and thought deep. “There are others out there, including myself that don’t believe you are Chosen and in your abilities. You will have to prove yourself to me, to Fear and all the others that you can carry this terrible burden. Many have stood in your place, brave and arrogant souls all but each one fell eventually. The weight of what the universe was expecting was simply too heavy for them to carry and they soon joined me in my realm. I cannot tell you anymore but your journey does not end here and you have only just begun to walk this darkened path.”
“Don’t do this, please don’t do this.” I pleaded, clutching at the hem of her black dress but slowly the ghostly visage of Death started to fade away.
“I’ll see you at the end Helena and I will be waiting for you. Now hold still.” A loud screaming erupted from outside the cell as Death smiled and touched my forehead. Suddenly, my entire body felt like it wanted to explode and I could feel the darkness rushing towards me. My head hit the stone floor with a thud and through rapidly widening eyes; I saw the jail cell swing open. A guard stumbled in, clutching his throat as the blood gushed from him. He collapsed in a pile and became deadly still.
And then I saw her. The one that had saved my life in New Providence, the one that had tried to kill me on the roof tops of Tokyo. Sheathing her blood stained sword, she bent down and unlocked the chain before slowly cradling my shoulder under her arm. My fractured mind could not believe what was happening, not for one single second. Was it another cruel joke played on me? But yet, it felt so real to me. How could it be anything else?
My sister had come for me.
