Kalopsia ⊰ The Avengers

Pain

Pain is the one constant in the world. 

She is sure of that from a young age. As she grew she sees and learns many things but the one constant throughout everything is pain. She tries to stop thinking about it, to erase the plague from her mind, but it is always there. 

Looming over her like a dark shadow and drowning out all the light the sun has to offer.  

There was never a moment in time where she could escape from the horrors. Trapped in her own body and unable to do anything about all of the sufferings. All she could do was watch on in silent horror. 

She just wants it all to stop. 

But life is pain and there is no escaping it. Especially not for her.  

She tries to ignore the truth of the world and instead turns the pain inward. Accepting everything the world tries to throw at someone else onto herself. 

Her lips draw shut as if stitched together by the strings of fate. Her voice disappearing into oblivion in a desperate attempt to fend off the pain. 

For so long she has witnessed everyone's suffering and now through her own twisted form of self punishment she deems it as her turn. 

Her words cause pain, she knows this, so if she is silent the pain is unable to hurt others. As a result her silence draws anger and anger is the ignitor of pain. Pain which is served on a silver platter to her.  

As her tantrum and self-punishment stretch into years of disobedience, other methods of communication are forced upon her.  

There was no escape. Not even her own mind was safe because like everything else, they stole that from her too. 

Atë was not the name of a person. 

Atë is the name of a weapon. 

Scarred back resting against the cold silver room, Atë sits with her head bowed. Greasy tresses cascading around her shadowed face. A greying cloth sits securely around the upper part of her face, blocking her vision from her room. 

She bobs her bound wrists in front of her to a distant beat. Chapped lips parting as lights flash behind her closed lids. 

Her head recoils suddenly. The back of her skull meeting the unforgiving stillness of the wall behind her. 

Ever so slowly her head maneuvers to face the bolted door across from her. Fingers twitching as electricity shoots through down her arms and over the hunch of her back. 

Ten guards filter into the room, boots interrupting the resolute silence of the bleak room. They rush her in unison, hands jostling her to a standing position and keeping her upright as her feet deny the weight of her body.  

They drag her out of the room. Guns already warm as they aim at her. 

She gulps as they push her towards the sound of a helicopter. The saliva trailing down her dry throat making her cough in pain. None of the guards pay any mind to her choking. 

Her blindfold is ripped from her face, dry skin flaking off from around the area. Crystalline eyes squint at the flash of purple light forced into her vision. 

A man in a suit, one she has never interacted with before approaches the girl, taking her from the guards and draping an arm around her shoulders. She flinches at the contact, cowering into herself as he guides her further into the plane, "Happy Birthday Atë. We have a special mission for you today." 

Her head lolls to the side, brain becoming fuzzy as the helicopter lifts from the air. As the ground grows further and further away, she faintly makes out the series of words spoken to her. One of them drawing a stab of pain to shoot through her heart.