My name is Calypso, and I am not a good girl. I wasn't bred to be a good girl and I figured I shouldn't become one.
But everything changed when I decided to break the rules. When I decided I wasn't going to be the person they wanted to be. When I decided to be me for once instead of being my predecessors. I chose to become myself rather than be who they wanted to me. I wanted to break free and escape all the bonds that held me down, the expectations, the emotions they expected me to have.
I wanted to be me. Who I am.
For you to understand my story, I'll tell you about how I was made.
How do I know this you ask? Well it's rather pathetic, I read about it in the letter my estranged mother gave me. It was a simple letter really with a lot of big words and dialogues and emotions I could barely understand back when I was younger until someone explained it to me.
Here's how it went. It's not a happy story, so if you're expecting one... stop reading. It only gets worse from here.
It was twilight in Gotham City and the sounds of chaos seeped through the window of my mother. Homicide, rape, thievery, violence, lust and murder. A normal night in Gotham city, where the air smells like danger and the streets are a death sentence. It is the home to a number of criminals, and some of those criminals have powers you wish you never witnessed. If you are unfortunate enough to find yourself in Gotham at night, pray that the worst that can happen you is paranoia, because believe me, there are worse things.
You think New York never sleeps? This city never has the time to rest. This city doesn't have time to breathe. This city doesn't even have time to be safe. Danger lurks in every corner. Every sound you hear and every light you see could be your last.
My mother was sleeping soundly and had no care in the world, probably besides paying her taxes and getting through a day without getting murdered. Overall, she had good work and a satisfactory life. She was simply an accountant at some company, a big one I guess. I believe the name was... Lex Corp.
Ha.
You think she'd work for Wayne? Wayne barely has any openings for work since the demand to work for Gotham's number one playboy is high. Lex Corp has a few openings and she was one of the lucky people who got a job interview and got the job.
Nice one right? Well. It gets even better.
Gotham wasn't and isn't the best place for a person to exist, it was and is chaotic and crazy. It was and always will be dark and frightening. It was where your nightmares become reality. Sometimes, you will feel like the darkness will overwhelm you, sometimes you feel like you are going to lose your sanity in the hustle and bustle of this extremely dangerous city.
But for some reason this woman-my mother- found solace in this city. It was her home, with its flaws and all.
She must have been quite an accepting person to find home in a place like this.
My mother had fallen asleep while she was watching the news, she fell asleep on the criminal segment. How she did that I have no idea, never met the woman so I don't know how she thinks. She was just lying on the bed with the remote lying limply from her hand.
So here's the part that I got from hacked police records and evidence that I dug into myself.
While my mom was sleeping, homicidal maniac Harvey Dent was running away from Arkham once again. His worry wasn't even the police, it was the big bad bat. He need a place to hide for the night and he was nowhere near the usual abandoned warehouse.
He figured he could just go into an apartment, kill whoever was inside and sit there talking to himself.
Seemed like a legit plan.
But there was something off about Harvey that night, he was more than his usual crazy, in fact he had barely any control over himself. His emotions were more shattered or divided than usual. He wasn't thinking as he usually would. His actions inside Arkham started like a spark, it came out of nowhere. He just all of a sudden decided to kill ten or more officers before managing to get out. This was normal behavior for most inmates but according to police psychologists and psychologists inside Arkham, Two-Face wouldn't just suddenly do that. They've analyzed everything and hell, they even asked Batman to analyze and they came up with nothing. Zero. Nada. No evidence of a drug or the like.
It was like he just snapped more than usual.
Harvey made his way and hid in numerous alleyways in Gotham until he found himself looking up at a rundown apartment building in the middle of 50th and 21st street.
He decided that it was a good place to stay the night, maybe do some stealing and killing, he didn't know.
He climbed up the rickety fire escape just as the police cars went speeding past.
Going to back to my mother, she was sound asleep until she heard someone climb up the fire escape.
She learned the hard way that she should be alert at all times, one time a robber came into her house while she was sleeping, and she didn't notice anything until she woke up the next day without her phone and her money.
It took her a while to get back the said money.
Now, she was a light sleeper, but that didn't matter. It's not like you can get any sleep in the city. She woke up the second she heard the rattling of the fire escape.
She shot out from bed and rolled under it. She decided that it would be better to hide rather than be caught sleeping. The lights were off as usual so she could barely see anything. The only light that was coming in was from the window... And that light barely covered two feet.
She was breathing quickly, since she learnt to be paranoid. She waited as the sounds got closer and closer and louder and louder.
She regretted keeping the window open. How stupid was she to keep in open in a place like this? I try to blame her honestly, but it's impossible. She was naive and inexperienced. She hasn't experienced the darkness like I have.
A shadow passed her window and when she looked at the window pane, it was... a kitten.
How cliché.
She sighed in relief. She was just being paranoid. She got out from under the bed and went to pick up the animal.
"You scared me." She said shakily while stroking the orange tabby. "Thought you were something else." She petted the kitten as it trembled and mewed.
"Why are you shaking?" She asked the poor defenseless kitten. "Are you scared?" She felt calmer now, knowing that it was a kitten.
All is well.
"You should be scared." She heard a voice say, dark and it sounded sinister- like a murderer on the night before he creates his masterpiece- a pile of corpses all mangled and bloody. His voice was like ice, cold and unfeeling. Cruel. "Of all people, you should be very afraid." This was followed by a low and deep chuckle. It made all the color drain from her face and caused her to stand up straight from shock, even though she wanted to curl up and hide.
But there was no place to hide.
If it was a normal robber entering her house, she would've pulled some self defense that she learned from some classes but...
It wasn't. He wasn't anyone normal.
Her hands started shaking instantly. The cat fell out of her hands and ran away, sensing that something is about to happen.
Sensible cat.
"Turn around." The voice said. Like a knife scraping against stone and so full of hatred.
She did and she wanted to cry, but it was like fear snuffed out all the sound she could have produced. The face that she saw was enough to place in her a fear so intense it suddenly more sense to commit suicide.
A man in a ragged orange jumpsuit was leaning on the wall beside her dresser, casually flipping a silver coin. Even though the light was minimal, the horror show in front of her was just plain to see.
He put a finger to his mangled lips and stepped into more light, his face was like it came out from a horror movie or a horror game. Not the victim, but the monster.
The ones that you tend to run away from.
The ones that tend to kill you.
She wished that it was fake, but no, it was very, very real. It was no illusion.
One side of his face was normal, as normal as can ever be. Messy brown hair and a twinkling brown eye. A sharp nose and lips that were full of life but were permanently fixated in a horrible sneer. He was handsome maybe and was someone that could be assumed as likable and a probable gentleman. His face was dirty and had some scratches on it, but it did not take away the message it wanted to convey. That side seemed like he could love someone as no one had loved anyone.
Someone who could have lived a good life and died quietly. No charges or no felonies against him.
He seemed like a decent man with decent work and a decent house. His build was athletic but with a hint of malnourishment, and sunken cheeks, as if he spent the last few years rotting in a prison.
Ahahah duh. He did.
Then there is the other side. A horrible mess of scar tissue and bone. His eye had no eyelid and the eye looked around like it was taking in its surroundings for the very first time. The eye was completely blood shot as if it had spent all its time staring at a void that you can't return from.
Unblinking. An eye that can never stop staring. If you looked at it long enough you could see how fractured this man really was.
His hair was completely gone, nothing left but a wrinkled pink scalp with dried blood- as if his head was cut recently. It was so messed up with scars and with wounds that were stitched up in such an ugly manner that it was obvious that it didn't heal well.
His teeth were fixated in permanent smile, lips burned away and part of his cheek completely dissolved showcasing the full set of yellow teeth and only a threads of skin holding his jaw to his face.
He chuckled lowly once again as he noticed my mother's frightened expression.
The police lights passed by, the siren echoing off the walls of the buildings outside.
They slowly began to fade out of the background... but how she wished she could go to the police and tell them what was going on.
"Thank you for your cooperation." He said as he flipped his coin again and caught it. "Not many survive this long in my presence."
My mother didn't even know what to say, I mean what could she? She was talking to the person who had the most split personality of split personalities.
One wrong word and it was goodnight forever.
He started at her hungrily, eyes looking up and down her body, longing for physical contact after years of beating and bruising. Longing for her after years of deprivation from the outside world. Years of deprivation.
Years of madness.
He was eyeing her curves and her breasts thinking what he could do to her tonight. Wondering what pleasantries he could bring on to himself.
It was unfortunate that she wasn't wearing anything opaque, she was wearing the every translucent nightgown that could let you see straight to her bra and underwear.
He hungered for her legs. He hungered for the touch of her soft innocent skin to combat his ugly and damaged skin. He hungered for the things he couldn't have inside.
The things he lost when he became like this.
He wondered what he could possibly do given the time.
And he was a criminal for Christ's sake, one of the lords of Gotham, with his one word many will listen. With his one word, many can die. With his one word, his minions will obey. With his one word... he can unleash hell upon more people that you can imagine.
Why not make this one listen? What is one more person on his list of victims?
He longed for gentle, physical contact under his control. Something he could finally enjoy.
Something he could... possess.
And did I forget to mention that he snapped more than usual? This guy didn't even know what he was doing. Or thinking for that matter. He was mad, crazy and driven by an unknown factor.
And he liked it. He lived for it. It was if this escape was the cherry on top. He didn't know why but he wanted to have some fun.
Right before the Bat takes his cherry on top again and puts him in the freezer.
(No madman (not even this lunatic) could top the Joker though but that is a tale for another time.)
"Tell you what." He said and took a step closer. "If you win this game of heads or tails." He showed we his coin. "You can live and I'll give you a little... reward." He said suggestively.
My mother did not like his tone for it had multiple implications.
"A-and i-if I... I l-l-o-ose?" She managed to squeak out with the last bit of her strength.
"You die." He said simply and with a smile. "I can't let anyone hear about me." He chuckled lowly and licked his lips.
"Heads or tails?" He asked, for once hoping he would lose.
"H-h-he-he-heads." She stuttered out, not liking the gaze this stranger in front of her gave her. Fear coursed through her body, her amygdala telling her that it was time to flee.
He flipped the coin, a sickening sound of his nail hitting metal bounced off the walls of the room.
The sound that she would never forget. Money never sounded so dark and scary.
It flipped in the air once, twice, thrice and it made its parabolic descent back into Two-Face's hand.
He caught it with gusto, ending the slow motion playing in her head. He smirked at the woman. "Pray that it's your lucky day."
He opened his palm to reveal that it was indeed heads.
She exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding in.
"You're lucky day indeed." He said with glee. He pocketed his coin. "I spare your life... and..."
Quicker than you could possibly decide to kill yourself, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back into the bed with a lustful smile.
"Let go of me!" She cried as she found herself pinned down by the madman. She struggled to free herself but his grip on her wrists was like iron and his legs were firmly planted on her sides.
"You're not going anywhere." He smiled, his face too close for comfort as he removed one hand from her wrist and proceeded to unzip his jumpsuit. "You're mine tonight." His voice like a death sentence.
The zipper going down his bodysuit was the worst sound. It was a constant buzz in her ears, he did it slowly and savored the moment.
She couldn't attack him, she was frozen in fear. She was sweating even though it was cold. Her eyes dilated and her entire body trembled for she knew what was to come.
There was no escaping this.
Harvey Dent's breath warmed her face uncomfortably. It smelled awful, like sewage and decomposed food.
"You're all mine." He said once he kicked off his jumpsuit- he was completely naked now. Nothing could bring her any comfort because of the lustful stare he was giving her. Eyes wanting to see everything and hands anxious to feel everything.
He proceeded to lift her nightgown over her head, slowly, torturously, and he tossed it aside. It fluttered down to the floor. She whimpered in fear as he bent down and kissed her neck, sucking hard but not getting any moans from her.
He grinned against her neck, taking advantage of her helplessness.
He kissed her lips and forced his tongue into her mouth, she was unable to react and unable to fight back. He forced her mouth opened as his tongue explored her mouth.
His tongue touching hers and his mouth silencing her attempts to protest.
His hands snaked all over her body, caressing, squeezing, feeling... holding, longing and touching.
He felt her waist, her abdomen, her legs and her neck.
She cried a river, but it wasn't like she could do anything.
He ravaged her body, stripping her off her dignity and all possible pride left in her soul. He reached behind her and unclasped her bra and touched her breasts as if they were toys he could just play with. He sucked at them and kissed her lips afterwards in order to silence her pained whimpers. He forced them apart again as his tongue touched hers and explored her mouth once again.
She tried fighting back but he was too strong and she was too weak.
It was too late to fight back.
Harvey left her unable to fight back as he took over her body, removing the final piece of clothing, (her underwear) forcing her legs apart dragging himself in while she wanted him out. He did it slowly, then fast and even faster as it caused her more and more pain, hot tears falling from her eyes. He placed his guilty fingers into her, feeling, touching, longing, hungering.
He put himself in her again and again and again and again. Pushing himself in even if she tried to push him back. Faster. Faster. Hungrier. Hungrier.
He touched her again in places she didn't want to be touched, her breasts, her back, her neck, her butt. Hands feeling everything and getting a good touch of every single body part.
He took over everything.
It was the most painful thing ever to her. She tried to fight him, she did truly try. But her efforts were so futile. It was so painful she nearly blacked out from the pain... oh wait she actually did.
Unfortunately, this man was a sadist... he found such satisfaction in her pain.
He continued to ravage her body even after she blacked out.
It was the best night of his life.
OKAY. You know I can't describe this anymore, it's too disgusting for me to describe this anymore I actually don't want to anymore.
But that's basically it. That's all.
I'll just sum up her traumatic stress quickly. I don't want to get into it.
When she woke up, she was naked (well obvious) and she remembered everything that happened the previous night. She thanked God that he was gone but she couldn't believe that this happened to her.
She curled up in her bed and cried as hard as humanly possible. This man took away her dignity and a part of her shattered because of this disgrace.
She cried hard and stayed in bed the whole day. I mean, who wouldn't?
She found a note hastily scrawled on a piece of paper, it was from him. It said that if she told anyone of the events the previous night, he would come back and kill her. He assured her that she didn't want that. If any word got out and reached him, it was goodnight for her.
My mother didn't let anyone in, she didn't contact anyone, she didn't go to work for a couple of days so she could recuperate.
She was treated like a toy, something that could be played with and thrown away. She wondered if she wasn't scared how would things turn out for her... she probably wouldn't have this problem.
Missing work was one of them.
Wonder how that went for an excused absence letter at work.
"Dear Mr. Luthor, I was raped by a homicidal maniac and I'm wallowing in depression, please excuse my absence."
When she went back to work after a few days, the first thing she did was cover herself up completely, as if that could hide her shame.
She underperformed and cried silently most times.
One month after the incident she noticed that she skipped a period, she vomited every morning and was cranky and irritable.
Oh yeah, you can guess who that is.
Some may say stress and others because she was sick.
But I knew better. (Well actually I didn't, I was a developing fetus but... you get my point.)
She panicked, remembering what happened. So she ran to the pharmacy and got a pregnancy test.
She took it immediately and guess what?
Positive! Two pink lines declared that she was to have a child.
You may be wondering why she just didn't abort the child already since the father was practically a demon...
Well, it said in the letter my mother was pro-life. She didn't like death and she decided that it was probably destined for her to have me.
She carried me, the demon child, in her womb as if I was her legitimate child. The people at work knew she wasn't married, so when they found out she was pregnant they made rumors about her being a slut and just hitting it up with anyone.
If only they knew the true story.
She said she loved me and that is why she still kept me without deciding to end my life there and then. Even if she cried nearly every night and slept in the same bed were she was treated like a slave, she decided that I was supposed to live.
Besides, it wasn't my fault a madman, a demon became my father.
But that didn't stop her from dropping me at an orphanage the minute we were both released from the hospital eight months later.
She just dumped me there with a letter explaining everything to me (including the reason why she dropped me off instead of keeping me in her so called "loving embrace) and even threatening the orphanage lady that if she told anyone about me, Harvey would come for her and the orphanage.
I don't think the lady would like that.
The letter contained everything I have said prior to this, the fact that she was destroyed and the fact that I was created. Everything that had to do with me, she wrote it down.
It was like a pathetic excuse letter. It was as if writing down my past was enough of an excuse to not be around to tell me this.
It was like she didn't want me around. To me, right now it made so much more sense to just abort me than subject me to abandonment.
She gave me up because of fear he would be back and fear that she wouldn't be able to take care of me, given the way her life was going.
It seemed to me she was on her own descent into madness.
At the same time, it seemed to me like she was giving me life but putting me in hell.
Of course, Ms. Greene, the lady in charge of the orphanage, would have the sense not to give the letter to a newborn, so she kept it with her.
Naturally she didn't tell me anything either, so I just assumed I was another kid.
I mean, what do you expect from a newborn?
I spent three solid years there, but as you can expect, she didn't pay attention to me. She would let me cry until I pacified myself.
When I reached speaking age she let me play with the other children my age.
But she didn't encourage them to play with me.
She told their sponge-like minds to avoid me, and so they did.
I was alone most of the time, but it didn't exactly bother me. I entertained myself through the various worn-out toys and wore the best ruined clothes that Ms. Greene was so generous to give me.
What a great life. Not knowing mom or dad, not knowing if you were going to be spanked, not knowing if your meal was prepared properly and not knowing where your clothes were from.
It was great.
I mean, I was a kid, I didn't exactly know what to do with life just yet.
I stayed there until six months after my birthday... my birthday is on August 24, so I stayed until March 24.
That's when he arrived.