The Irony of Regret

11

Song of the Chapter: Thought Contagion by Muse

Quote of the Chapter: 'She spun herself a crown of gold, thrones of bones and citadels, to the deaf stars she screamed: make me queen or I'll make you bleed' -M.J.

Malice was on her back underneath her bed. She had tears on her face, and she was high on morphine.

It didn't work when she took the first pill, so she took a second, then a third. As she was about to take a fourth, the first started to kick in. She didn't want to think anymore. She just wanted to be gone.

She regretted so much. She wished she didn't get in that fight when she was in first grade. She wished she didn't love her brother. She thought of everyone she had ever met, hurt, killed. It hurt her so much, knowing she had a lasting effect on those around her.

She was sweating and there were stabs of fear running from her chest to her bellybutton. She couldn't take it anymore. She wanted to run around, try to distract the anxiety, but she couldn't find the energy to do more than roll her head back and forth on the floor.

Her eyes were closed. Dust tickled her nose. Her breathing was ragged and loud. She wished to whatever god that was out there that wasn't there that she didn't believe in that hated her that they would take her pain away. She waited; nothing happened.

Her anxiety calmed and instead a lot of nothing took its place. She felt exhausted and her thoughts started to jumble together. She felt like nothing. She couldn't feel her hands. She knew they were clenched, cramping, and bleeding, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She didn't care.

She laid there for what seemed like years contained in minutes. Every second dragged, but when she wondered how long she had laid there for, she was sure the answer was five minutes. Thirty thousand thoughts left her mind, and the ones that stayed made no sense.

She was flying, but she was left on the ground. Her brother looked like a jellyfish when he swam with her. She started laughing. Wrath was anything but a jellyfish.

She laughed for a long time, and she didn't know what she was laughing about. Laughing became crying. She didn't want to cry; she didn't know why she was crying, but she couldn't stop.

She didn't want what she had anymore. She didn't want her mom's biker jacket. She didn't want to be an excellent shot, she didn't want to know what she knew, and she definitely didn't want to be as cold as she was to most people.

When she was born, she didn't know what she was getting into, what she was born into. She didn't know of the religion of her family, the cult-like worship. She didn't know she was a reincarnate goddess; she doubted the truth in it. She had been stretched beyond her mental limits by those people, and they shaped who she became.

She pushed her inner goddess to the back of her mind for so long. The second part of her personality, the uncanny bit of her heart, resurfaced when she took the pills, so she stopped taking the pills. She didn't want the so called goddess of malicious deeds to resurface. 

The whole ordeal was looney. They said her brother was the god of wrath, she was the goddess of malice. There were dozens of others close to their age who were found when others died, more reincarnations.

Malice shot up in shock, hitting her head on the bed frame. She didn't care. She knew who James was. He was Regret, Regret of regret and he was someone who relished the way they lived. He resented her as a child. She had no name, she didn't want to be a part of their group.

She had to leave. She knew they knew who she was. They had been hunting her for a long time. That was why her brother, father, and James had that meeting. Not about the fighting contract. That was absurd to begin with; they wouldn't make much money off her. They wanted her back, and she let them fool her.

She had to leave. She couldn't stay. There wouldn't drag her back to the depths of that warehouse with their tools and drugs. No way.

They were probably even watching her right then. She would have to pack that night in the dark. It would never work; she drove a motorcycle and would have to go outside to get on it. She would have to pretend to buy their story until she knew what they were planning. They would want her to use her 'abilities' to do bad things, and she didn't want to go back.

For so long she had been doing what she had to for her surviving. Now, she was going to go against everything her instincts told her. She was going to let them bring the real Malice back out. She would let her take over, and when they poked and prodded her, she would annihilate them.

She fell asleep with a half smile, half grimace on her face. She had a plan, for once, not to just leave, but to fight for what she wanted.

---

Kind of an unexpected twist, I know. I had such bad writers block that I started writing and just let it flow out. If its that bad, let me know and I'll change it.

This chapter is dedicated to 

As always, vote, comment, send me a message if you like.

-Danniele