Raw Perfection
She slams her hand against the mirror, watching the glimpse of power and strength moulded together shatter away. It resembled something almost beautiful.
…
She holds her head high, eyeing with loathing at the reflection in the mirror. It's her, and everything she is laid bare. Her hair falls down her shoulders, eyes gleaming with far too much evil. She's a hideous creature, and she can't help but loath everything she is.
Her past clashes with her present, and her future is so uncertain she fears it. Her form is thin, naked and weak. She starves herself slowly, because she desires the control and perfection hidden within. She wants to be better and stronger, but now she's useless.
He tries to force her, of course. Bringing her meals from over the globe to the table. He's gone as far as to force feed her, but that lead to nothing but screaming and tears.
She sighs.
"You look beautiful." He whispers in her ear, holding her closely. "Stop doing this to yourself."
She blinked, and looked away. "I just can't stand this. I can be better."
Every time she breathes, she can feel something breaking within. "You're hurting." He grips tightly to her, as if she might fade away for good if he releases her.
Her wrists are lined with dull crimson. The remains of nights fueled with hatred and need. "I'm stronger."
He hates the mirror. He hates her insecurities. He loves her so much it burns, and he wants nothing more than to sweep her away to a better place, where she wouldn't spend her hours finding fault in herself.
"You are the strongest, Jinx. You don't need to do this." He forces her to face him, and looks into the gleaming eyes. They're so strange that they steal his breath away. They hold a world of mystery and fantasies he's never seen before, and he longs to discover their meaning.
She forces herself away from him, walking off the bathroom. "This is me, Wally. It's all I ever have been." She holds back a sob, trying to escape his eyes. "I'm just a pathetic idiot who failed at everything. I couldn't be a villain, and I sure as hell can't be a hero."
She slams the door and locks it. It makes a satisfying bang, and it's all she wants to hear. She wants to break the silence, slamming and smashing to break the silence. Her bare hands fly over the counters in a rage, picking and flinging whatever she grabs hold of. She smashes them against the mirror, slicing them into ribbons.
He vibrates through the door, and snatches her up. "Stop it, Jinx. Stop doing this!"
She thrashes and struggles, trying to send feeble waves of power at him. They fail at her bloodied finger tips, nothing more but frail sparks helplessly fading. "You can't stop me, Wally! Just leave me alone!"
He slams her against the wall, smashing his lips against her own. She's like a skeleton beneath him, and he feels terrified that he might have broken her. Like a china doll, fragile and breakable. He leaves bruises on her lips.
"Why can't you see?" He pleads, resting his head against her.
…
It's remarkable how cold she gets.
She shivers and shakes, wrapping herself beneath blankets. Wally holds her tightly, and she clings to the warmth he gives. Her entire body is a helpless wreck of hunger and coldness. Her hands are bandaged stiffly, but she ignores the throbbing pain. It feels oddly better.
"Will you stop now?" He whispers in her ear, pulling her closer. She's stretched out right on top of him, holding tightly. Her figure had become bony with resentment, and he feels the outlines of them all pressing against him.
She moves to get up and leave, but he clutches her tightly to him.
"I'm going to be beautiful for you," She swears solemnly, hands grasping his arms.
"You already are. You're perfect the way you are."
The shadows of the room are broken by a single lamp's light. It's cluttered and messy, with clothes scattered over the floor. A small mountain of books nestles away in the corner, and a rather impressive TV opposite to the bed. But its home. She's never had a real home before, and he had been all too willing to give her one.
Her body becomes rigid. "Do you ever regret it?"
Silence is stiffening and angry, before his voice cuts through it. "Not for a second."
"I betrayed you and captured you. I was going to trade you in." She carries on, words fumbling out of her mouth. "How can you not hate me?"
"Easy. I love you too much to hate you."
Her heart crumbles away, and she tries to pull herself away from his grip. "Don't lie to me, Wally."
"I don't lie. Not to you." He vows, flipping them over so she's pinned beneath him. "I'm going to fix you. You're going to get better from this shit, and we're going to move on with our lives. I love you."
"You can't fix me."
"Sure I can."
…
She remembers her past.
She hates her past.
Her powers were wrong. Unclean. Dirty and foul. She was the devil's child, they had claimed. They slammed wooden rules against the backs of her hands, and left her to starve for punishment. She was abandoned and left in the hands of the Nuns. Her back had become mangled and torn apart, and pride stiffened by raw need.
She fled her hell when she aged ten, to take on the world.
She desired a world of power. Strength and force. She wanted to be known and respected. But she ultimately failed. She had been pathetic, grappling for footholds in the ladder of Villainy.
Her powers had become wild and passionate. She was uncontrollable, until the H.I.V.E stumbled along her pathetic body within the rubble of the destruction she caused. They took her, and trained her to be better.
Efficient and clever, and to maneuver her powers to suit her needs. She had become streamlined almost, falling into this world of social workings, fitting in amongst the others. She was no longer the beaten child, but the stronger one.
They feared her, and resented her. She had become better than anyone had expected. No end to her powers.
But he came, and tore her world apart with the promises of a better one.
She had failed at becoming a Villain.
She would fail at being a hero.
Her past haunts her shadow, grasping at her tightly. She's ensnared within it all, struggling for release.
She'll never find it. Not now, at least.
…
All eyes find her.
His body had been thrown helplessly by Madam Rouge's attack, and all she could feel was anger. He didn't wake up.
Her boots glided over the crack pavement, threads of pink energy sparking at her fingertips. The world feels cold and heated, and all she wants to do is slam her fucking head against the pavement until Rouge is dead.
She does the next best thing. She takes the lead pipe thrown across the ground and flings it hard at the opponents face. Rouge only dodged to find an angry fist waiting for her.
Jinx struck her down, slamming her anger into it.
"You hurt him," she gritted out, feeling the hollow stares of the others drilling into her skull. Her body trembles from weakness and raw rage. "You fucking hurt him."
She's laughing now, and she kicks her down to the ground. "I'm going to freaking break your face open!" She howls, landing calculated blows and kicks against the bloody body of her former idol.
They try to restrain her, but nothing stops her until he is there, grasping hold of her.
"You can stop now, Jinx. I'm alright." He promises her, forcing a smile.
"She hurt you." Her voice sounded mechanical to her, rough from the lack of interest.
"And I'm better now. We're okay."
She almost agrees with the delusion. But she isn't okay. Not yet.
…
"I could leave, you know." Her voice is bitter.
He swallows. "But you won't."
"I could and I would." She swears, anger heating her words. She sways, dizziness taking over her.
"I'd come after you every time you tried, and you know it." He shoots back at her, leading her over to the bed. "When did you last eat?"
"Dunno."
"Jinx," He grits out, eyes narrowing.
"Does it matter?" She bit out.
"You better believe it matters."
…
She stands alone, gazing hollowly at the mirror.
She becomes filled with raw anger, and feels the need for more. More than this life. More than the pain and misery clawing at her. Her body is naked, and she can find every little hollow that her bones create, as they stick out through her skin.
She's hideous.
She hates this mirror more than words can describe. She loathes the way it makes her feel.
Inferior.
She holds her head high, and glares.
Wally is somewhere in the night, racing against the wind. It hurts him, she knows, than she does this to herself. She hates hurting him.
He had trusted her and let her in. Given her the option out for a new life.
He's worth a sacrifice.
She slams her hand against the mirror, watching the glimpse of power and strength moulded together shatter away. It resembled something almost beautiful.
"I'm done, Wally. Come home."
…
Not my usual stuff. Too much fluffyish stuff between the two. Rewatching the series now and realizing that those two are an epic match. And why the hell is there not enough Kid Flash in the entire thing? Like what? Two episodes?
Anyways, don't like, I don't care.