Voice was not nice. The thoughts of a child shivering inside an adult's body, Voice screamed again. She was falling apart at the seams. Voice softened, no longer screamed, Voice whispered. Whispered all the secrets she already knew, all the dark and dirty truths already too deeply ingrained to dig out (the wounds and scars on her arms could attest to it) or to forget. Voice soothed, nudging her to pick up her bow; she always felt good with her bow. But her bow wouldn't make Voice shut up, it never ever did. Nothing shut up Voice. Nothingnothingnothing. (Nothing she would admit to)
Artemis glared at nothing. She wound herself into a tight ball, she always did. Tryingbeggingscrambling.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up." She chanted desperately, hands clasped frantically over her ears, a fruitless attempt to shut out Voice. She knew it was useless, how many times as a child had she curled under her bed, humming broken tunes to block out Voice (and the fighting, shouting, hitting; but nonono that never happened. Daddy was a good daddy. Sister was a good sister. Daddy's friends were normal. Normalnormal, dull as dust). Voice was her constant companion, on the scary night when Jaded-Sister left it was Voice who convinced her to let go of Berry, to pick up her little bow, to work until her little muscles were trembling and exhausted until she couldn't draw her bow-string; until she was dirty and sweaty and angry. And Voice praised her, and shut up. It was the first time she'd ever heard actual silence. So when GoodDaddy NormalDaddy HappyDaddy started to play with her again (not train, not torture but playplayplay)Voice was quiet. But Stranger-Mom ruined it! She ruined it all! Artemis whimpered, Voice was getting louder again.
Voice was angry. Voice wanted her to find the bow Stranger-Mother had taken, to seek out her arrows and her knives. To find all the pieces of herself that Stranger-Mother had stolen away. Artemis growled, whywhywhy? Her head smacked the wall behind her in a steady beat, another useless attempt to dislodge Voice. Piece by piece Voice had broken her, now Voice was trying to put her back together, she didn't know if it was in the same shape she'd had before, she didn't remember a before. Artemis shrunk into herself.
Slowly (slowslowslow) Stranger-Mother became Mom again, but Jadad-sister didn't come back (Voice told her to hate Jaded-Sister, but she just couldn't), neither did normalDaddy (she wasn't sure what to feel about this, Voice was mute on the matter as well). Voice was always with her.
High-school, she discovered, was a bloody proving ground. People thought the lithe, quiet (slightly odd and disturbing) blond from the Narrows would make a good target; she beat the idea out of them (Voice shut up for a while, left her in the peace and the silence of her own thoughts). When Voice was quiet Artemis found she was actually happy, at peace. When Voice was quiet the secrets didn't torment her. When Voice was quiet she could gaze around her, wonder at what the city would be like if all the tall, suffocating buildings were replaced by the giant trees she'd played in and around as a child (playplayplay, happyhappy childhood. Nothing bad, nothingnothingnothing). The city wouldn't seem so much like a living coffin if there were more trees, she liked trees. And open sky, she loved being able to see the sky (without Voice whispering that she should try to fly from the edges of her wonderfully windy perches), to feel the wind on her skin, to try and count the stars (on the few nights that the night sky wasn't blotted out with too bright city lights and that poisonous sludge like substance they tried to pass off as air). Some nights Artemis didn't sleep (Voice whispered even in her dreams) and just counted all the stars in the sky, she never got past one-thousand three-hundred and eighty-three.
Voice was back, people had stopped needing to be reminded of her ability to defend herself. Voice got louder each day. The whispered truths were starting to get to her. She sat, curled into a tiny ball in the corner of her room, (as far from Jaded-sisters things as she could get) with an old, not quite dull, broken arrow head. The secrets were printed on her skin, stark against her tan skin, the color of the blood they were written in (she hopedhopedhoped and prayedprayedprayed, they needed to GO AWAY awayawayaway. The secrets were bad) so she blotted them out, no one else needed to see her secrets (noonenoonenoone, not even not-so-stranger-mom), no one needed to know they even existed; after all she was normal, dull as dirt.
Voice reminded her harshly that no matter how much dirt she covered herself in, no matter how many times she dulled her metallic shades with blood, she would always stand out as the knife among the roses. Voice scolded her for trying to bend her blades into petals; Voice laughed while remarking that they would still cut. Voice laughed and scorned and degraded tryingtryingtrying to bend her, move her, break her; Artemis screamed. She tried to fly (instead she was 'saved' by a Robin who'd had his wings clipped). She was angry about that (she had wanted to soar, to touch the stars she revered). Then the Bat and the Snake came (blackandgreen, greenandblack). And Not-so-stranger- Mom wanted her to join them. Voice hissed about the people in the Shadows. Artemis ignored Voice.
Artemis decided she didn't like the Bat (too quiet, too sneaky. She swore he could hear her thoughts); but the snake wasn't too bad (soft, sweet, kind, and brokenbrokenbroken so easy to manipulate; nonono she needed to blot out her secrets again she was starting to think bad thoughts), he tried to teach her things (things she already knew, knew too well for too long), tried to be kind to her.
Then Snake had taken her to join THE TEAM, he said it like it was important; Voice assured her it was not, that it was just as important as all the 'training' that had left Voice cackling madly in her skull. The Robin with clipped wings was there (she fought the urge to question his reluctance to fly), a sheathed Sword, a Green-flower (instincts she trusted even more than she trusted Voice screamed that there was something wrong with the Flower, wrongwrongwrong. Screamed that she was like Artemis herself, rubbing blood along her edges to fit in), and a King who deserved (but would never demandstealclaim) a crown; for some odd reason Artemis found herself trusting the Uncrowned King and the Sheathed Sword (good understanding people). The notquitecheetah tumbled from the Zeta-beam and she snarled (Voice had taught her to do that).Voice made comments on all her 'teammates', Voice didn't like them, Voice whispered secrets into her brain (killkillkillkill. Nononono), she managed not to crumple into a ball hands cradling her skull.
She saw Jaded-Sister that night, she told Voice she couldn't hate Jaded-Sister (she meant it, but she could be angry with her, and Artemis' anger was often a violent brand). Her teammates congratulated her (all except the not quite cheetah, but she and Voice could deal with him later). For a moment she was happy (Voice was too, though Voice would never admit it) she belonged to this garden of knives, with the Dulled Sword and the King who would-not-order an execution. She belonged. And Voice was silent.