Wounds of Filth
Chapter 2: I'm Sorry
By: DeathIsOnlyTheBeginin
DISCLAIMER: I Dont Own Teen Titans...I Know...I Thought I Did Too...
(Enjoy! Read and Review Please!)
Another snip consumed the silence of the dark room before a final lock of violet hair plummeted to the floor. Amethyst eyes roamed over the quick fix of a hairdo, seemingly pleased with the amateur cut. She sighed and set the scissors on the small table below.
Raven turned away from the hanging mirror and traipsed over to her bed. With a sigh, she elegantly placed herself atop its dark comforter. The Azarathian gazed down at herself, her pale body adorned in nothing but a navy tank top and shorts. The scars had long since faded away, but their burning did not subside and she winced as she ran a lone finger down her arm.
Slade had known so much, so very much that she herself had never even taken into perspective. She had never dreamt that the world she had grown to love so much, would crumble at her hands.
She lifted her palms up to her face, studying their many curves and lines with her eyes.
Raven's eyes narrowed in concentration. She recalled reading of gypsies once, and of their powers. It was written that they could read someone's future by simply looking at their hand. She traced one of her palms with her opposites index finger, wondering if her future, and that of the word's, was encased within her skin, buried beneath the many prints of her hand. Raven let her head hang in shame; the very thought was unbearable.
How had Slade known so much; about her, her destiny, her father?
Raven shook her head, her eyes burning with tears that she would not shed. Her irises suddenly caught the sight of her mirror. It was glowing.
Curious, she stood and floated over to the small table it was laying on. With her fingers wrapped around its sides, she tugged it up to her face, studying its surface. What she found instead, was the face of Rage, her many red eyes glaring into Raven's own set of violets, the emotion's mouth seeming to speak her name,
"Raven."
With surprise, Raven jumped and the silver object slipped from her grasp. Its plunge to the floor seemed to take forever, and she could only watch as it finally collided. The sound of breaking glass filled her ears as the shattered pieces cascaded all over the hard floor.
Raven's whole body went numb, her nerves tingling as though with ice as she stared down at the demolished pieces of her mind.
So many memories had been encased within that small link to Azarath and each was not in the least happy. Visions of her father began to weave through the depths of her mind, the large, disciplined puzzle soon riddled with his image, with his threat. The floor beneath her booted feet began to spin, her stomach twisting into a large, guilt-bearing knot. Opening her dry mouth, she attempted to breathe. She choked. The airrefused to go down, refused to be the relief she needed to calm the thoughts within.
Her knees buckled and collapsed from beneath her. Raven closed her eyes as she crashed to the floor. With the force of her impact, air snuck past her closed throat and into her lungs. Numb, she focused on simply breathing; the cheek rubbing against the floor, cold.
She remembered their faces, each one disturbed and arranged in a way that told of her treachery. Every set of blank eyes glared at her, the accusation of their stare sending shivers up her spine, shivers that she had not felt sense that day. The day she had killed them all.
Azar's face suddenly filled her sights and Raven gasped, closing her dark violets. The Princess's features still did not fade, would not.
Raven had betrayed them all. She and Trigon's influence had torn them all to shreds. Her very hands had pulled the flesh of her people apart, stolen the souls of all those whom had doubted her, along with they who didn't.
With shaking arms, Raven climbed to her feet, her stomach churning with unease. Weak, she leaned against the wall for support, her eyes glancing around the dark temple she called her room. She took in her many books of legends, the very history of Azarath.
Raven felt her stomach contract and, with an unknown source of energy, ran from her room and into the dark hallway. Her boots plunked loudly against the hollow floor as she raced for the bathroom, her eyes blurred with tears of ailing.
With a cry of desperation, she crashed into the closed door and slammed her hand down on the panel. The metal slab swung open and she fell inside, landing on her hands and knees. The door swooshed closed behind her, clicking into place.
A low groan echoed from Raven's throat as she crawled over to the toilet, visions of the massacre she had performed dancing behind her eyes. Tears flowed down from her rims as she continued towards the white seat, her glazed irises focused yet not seeing beyond the mind. Blood splashed through her memory, coating everything in crimson just as her fingers wrapped around the slim bowl.
Raven tugged her head over and into the hollow of the toilet, the remainder of her tears dripping into the slightly blue water. She coughed once, then twice.
Azar's face spread over her conscious, her bright eyes wide with fear as Raven's own fingers dove past her ribcage and wrapped around the organ that was her heart. With a sick crack and a blood choked sob from her superior, the past Raven ripped the pump from her princess's chest and watched as the lifeless body fell, limply, to the marble floor.
Raven gagged, emptying most the contents of her stomach into the awaiting water below, an acid taste varnishing her tongue. Within seconds, her abdomen contracted again, and the remainder of anything at all was hurled from her body.
Raven waited for her nausea to fade, her head hanging limply over the edge of the toilet, one of her arms cradling her forehead. She spat a few times in attempt to ride her mouth of the foul taste of tart. With a groan, she lifted a trembling hand and pulled down on the lever, watching as the tainted water spun before disappearing down the pipe.
Breathing shakily, she slumped backwards, her legs strait and spread slightly as her back leaned against the vanity cabinet. Raven shook her head before laying it in her hands, silent sobs raking through her body. The visions had finally dispersed, leaving her with nothing but loneliness.
No sound whatsoever met her ears, spare the low hum of the many machines working within the tower. It was as though everything in the world had suddenly stopped in its entirety just to simply stare at the wreck of a person Raven was.
Her head lolled back on her neck, her eyes heavy lidded and staring up at the dark ceiling. What was she doing? Her acts of emotion were pathetic, cowardly, weak. Raven scowled. She was weak.
"No..." She whispered monotonously, her eyes narrowing, "I wont fall for it Trigon...I wont."
A terrifying shrill of a howl sounded from the back of her mind, its high note quickly shifting into a tone deep and gnarly, like a chuckle of Satan.
"Poor little Bird."
Raven closed her eyes and pushed herself to her feet, which instantly headed for the door.
"You cant escape me, Raven."
She felt her eyes burn beneath their lids, her heart rate speeding as she pressed the panel and the door opened. With a wavering exhale, she began to walk to her room.
"Don't ignore me."
The time seemed to drag as she passed the few rooms belonging to her friends, her eyes open and set on her own, lonely door.
"Raven! You disobedient little wench! You will not ignore me!"
The inside of her head suddenly throbbed, its berating sharp and merciless. She clamped her hands over the sides, her fingers weaving through her hair as she vainly tried to cease the pain.
Trigon screamed, his voice high pitched. Raven felt her feet lift from the floor, her body glowing with black power.
"No!" She shrieked, her eyes closed tightly in pain as her father wrapped a mental hand around her mind and seized control. Her body swung backward and slammed into Robin's door, the back of her head splitting. Blood trickled around the roots of her hair and down her neck.
Raven felt herself suddenly shoved to the back of her mind, before the sensation of her father taking over her origin fully set in. He chuckled,
"Raven, your insubordinance is becoming quite bothersome."
Her soul cringed, "Release me."
Her bodily eyes snapped over, their beautiful amethyst color buried by red.
"You are in no state to be delivering orders."
Raven intellectually scowled, "Release me!"
Trigon let out a screech of pain as his daughter mentally fought him off, his aura fading quickly. Raven's eyes faded back into their violet brilliance.
"This isn't over, daughter."
Raven fell to her knees as the last of her father's presence dissipated, her body shivering from the momentary lack of life. She breathed through gritted teeth, her eyes tearing and clamped shut as her arms held her torso, her fingers digging into the material of her leotard.
"Raven? Are you alright?"
She gasped softly before glancing over her shoulder, her eyes unemotional as ever.
Robin.
The Wonder Boy stood in the open frame of his doorway, his masked eyes staring down at her with concern.
She turned away from his gaze and looked down at her hands; a red symbol was engraved in the palm of both, its presence agonizing. She shook her head; her destiny was truly woven into her skin. With an odd sense of sturdiness, Raven stood, her hands falling to her sides.
"Rae?"
The worry in her leader's voice had little to no effect on her as she stared over the balcony they both stood on, her eyes set on the large TV.
"I'm fine, Robin."
"But Raven, you were jus-"
"I said I was fine." She snapped coldly, her eyes narrowing as she turned to face him.
Robin stood stiffly, her words stinging his pride slightly. If she did not want his help, then he would not give it.
"Fine." He replied angrily, his feet turning as his door closed behind him, removing him from her site.
Raven's eyes softened and she leaned against his door, her forehead touching the cold surface as she stared down at her feet. The darkness that she usually found so comforting was suddenly closing in on her, suffocating all warmth from the tower.
"I'm sorry."
1/14/2011:
For writers everywhere, I just want to give a heads up to ANYONE who reads any really old story by me and then feels the need to leave a ridiculous, anon review and rant like some child about how dreadful they think it is - I don't care what you think about anything, so don't waste my time. I'm just going to delete your flame anyway, so you might as well not bother to leave it - however, if you must insist upon posting one, I wish you happiness in your futility.
That being said, if you flame - SIGN IN instead of just popping on here like some coward and trying to rip me up over something I wrote AGES ago (ha!). If you flame and then refuse to sign in and offer up your own writing to back your mouth up, keep your mouth closed. I wrote this story 6 years ago. It's an old, amateur, raw piece of work, and I know that. I was only 14 when I started it - but for 14, I did a damn good job.
It's comical that you think you can judge someone's writing capabilities on the shortcomings of their 6-year-old pieces of work - honestly, that just cracks me up. You should know that despite your high opinion of yourself and your obvious belief that I need your "expertise", I'm just laughing at you. I do not need your praise or acknowledgment to validate myself as a writer, and I don't need your dimwitted, ignorant advice. I write very well and I know it. God bless.