Welcome to the Hell
Fem! Merlin/Arthur, Modern! AU, Punk!Merlin
Warnings will be placed on each chapter, this chapter includes mentions of underage sex as well as legal sex (UK), smoking, bullying, alcohol use, drug use, death, rape and self harm.
This is a dark and unhappy story, sorry. I challenged myself to it, to something much different, let's see how I do.
Updates will be irregular and possibly not often, again, sorry.
Imperfections are perfections and insane is genius. To be normal is to be boring and that is never what I want to be, even from a young age, I dressed and acted differently from all the others girls, much to the disapproval of my parents and it got even 'worse' when I became a teenager.
My whole life has been far from normal and I guess I can thank my father for that. I'm born with a certain type of magic, from my fathers side and something that my mother had no idea about and he had planned to keep it that way, he never planned to have children, but one day after almost ten years of magic, my mother became pregnant with me and his magic was passed on. He refused to teach me what he knew and wanted me to be normal, well, sorry daddy, it didn't work out that way.
When I was six months old, I blew up a vase when I was crying over something that my mother wouldn't give me and she panicked and called my father, who had been at his boring office job. He had come home immediately and told my mother about himself and what I might have, they argued, it was the first in ten years but she forgave him and they both agreed to keep my magic hidden.
But I didn't, I did in the presence of my parents, but outside I was using it all the time, not for bad reasons, such as to get money or what I wanted, just to see what I could do and connect more to the world around me. By the age of twelve, I have read hundreds of spell books and knew all of them.
To my parents, I was the punk rock daughter, who wore tank tops, leather jackets, short shorts, fishnet tights and clunky boots and had black and purple hair that seemed to control itself, the daughter who wore too much dark make up, as well as had facial piercings on my lips and nose and a small tattoo on my wrist which said my name. But to the rest of the world I was Emrys, the punk sorcerer who everyone knew not to cross even though she was not as threatening as she looked or seemed.
When I was thirteen I had my first boyfriend, he was older than me, sixteen years old and I was stupid enough to lose my virginity to him, it was a horrible experience, he seemed to have as much of a clue as me, despite the fact that he had been seen with at least three other girls from his school. We lasted about six months before I told him to shove it. Although this experience lead to me exploring my sexual identity, I dated a girl the same age as me when I was fourteen, we lasted a year and she was so much better than some man could ever be, but she moved to America, and we both knew that a long distance relationship wouldn't last, so we ended it there rather than be hurt later.
After that I wasn't interest in relationships and for the next four years of my life I had several boys and girls, older and younger and some the same age who were just there when I needed them to be, it was nice and not at all serious, just the way that I liked it.
Being different was good to me, but to other people it was disgusting, going against social norms, dressing in a way that people would blame me if I ever got raped instead of the rapee, and looking not how a lady should. I got bullied a lot and for a long time it bothered me, I used to lock myself in my room and cry and it didn't take me long to find methods of getting rid of the pain and replacing it with a pain that I could control. Although I don't give a fuck about what people think now, I still hurt myself, it's really the only way that I can feel.
It was when I was eighteen that everything in my life seemed to change and I really don't know if it was for the better or for the worse. You see I write this now, a forty year old woman sat in her flat with a laptop her only source of light in her room, writing this all down so that someone, someday might be able to make sense of it, here's the story of how I went to the hell.
My name is Arthur Pendragon and I am afraid. I am always afraid. I am the literal embodiment of fear, everything scares me now, more than it used to.
I was born into a very rich and privileged family, my father owned a variety of business in London and when I was born my mother quit her job as a nurse at the local hospital to become a stay at home nurse to me and a year later my sister Morgana. With my family being rich, I got everything that I asked for and a lot of the time, especially when I got older, it went to my head.
I used to brag at and bully those who I saw as being lower than me, the kids whose parents had two jobs just so that they could put food on the table for their children, so they could keep the small, damp house that they lived in and the clothes that they wore on their backs, the children who were maybe not as pretty as the others, the teenagers with acne and the ones were in any way different in how they acted or what they looked like or just who they were.
When I was eleven, one of my friends stole some cigarettes from his father and we smoked them, and I smoked almost everyday after that. My parents weren't happy, but at that age and for a long time after I could really not have cared about their opinion, as long as the money kept rolling in, that's all I cared about.
It didn't take me more than a month before I found drink and the smoking cigarettes soon turned into smoking weed, and the first time that I did, when I was barely thirteen, I lost my virginity to one of my drug dealers pimps before I knew what was going on, I was so stoned that I barely knew what was going on and at only age fourteen, my life was about sex, smoking, alcohol and drugs.
I did a lot of drugs, but it was when I started taking heroin when I was nineteen that my parents threw me into rehab for that and nearly everything else that I was doing, including an addiction to sex, I guess three hundred and eleven women is a lot to sleep with in six years.
I was in rehab for fourteen months when I got a call to say that my mother had died in a car crash, but my father and sister were both okay and at the hospital. I was let out on probation to see them and after that I got clean quickly and was released a few months before my twenty-first birthday.
We decided to move away from the city, wanting out of the house that held too many memories of our mother and wife. We moved to a small town an hour or so away from London, so that my father could still commute to work, when he wasn't working from home and we settled into our new lives.
I guess that is when my life really changed, I thought that getting celan would have lead to a change, but it this town that did it for me. Ever since arriving I got a funny vibe but my sister told me I was just being stupid. She was wrong.
This place lead to my death, the hell killed me and yet I am still alive. I am still here writing about it, I'm going to tell you everything from my point of view, how I died, how I became fear and maybe you can help me, please.