[ROTM] "Invictus" - William Ernest Henley
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
She would not beg for her life. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t plead, she wouldn’t break. Not for them. Not for the Winchester brothers who looked down on her, their tones condescending and smug. They thought they were better than her, and in some aspects they were probably right. But right now she was not in the mood for their snide comments and snarky remarks. She wanted their help, not their pity.
And she wasn’t going to give them what they wanted either. Not with them asking like that. She didn’t even have to look at Dean to see the sneer on his face, or the contempt in his eyes. He was ready to crucify her for something he would never understand. Sam wasn’t much better, with the pompous air that reminded her of her professors back at the university. The looks on their faces said it all, and she wasn’t going to cave to the blows, give them what they wanted so they could would help her, only to lord it over their heads for whatever other encounters they may have. Sam and Dean weren’t going to see her break down and confess her sins. They weren’t her priest in the confessional-in fact, they were far from it.
Added to the fact that she had already been ostracized once for that blot in her past, she wasn’t necessarily in the mood to have it happen to her again. She would rather handle things on her own, and most certainly drown on dry land at the hands of the spirit, rather than give them the secret they sought, give them the information they would only use to bury her, let them know that she was human and she was terrified, just like everyone else.
She did have her pride after all.
302 words
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
She would not beg for her life. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t plead, she wouldn’t break. Not for them. Not for the Winchester brothers who looked down on her, their tones condescending and smug. They thought they were better than her, and in some aspects they were probably right. But right now she was not in the mood for their snide comments and snarky remarks. She wanted their help, not their pity.
And she wasn’t going to give them what they wanted either. Not with them asking like that. She didn’t even have to look at Dean to see the sneer on his face, or the contempt in his eyes. He was ready to crucify her for something he would never understand. Sam wasn’t much better, with the pompous air that reminded her of her professors back at the university. The looks on their faces said it all, and she wasn’t going to cave to the blows, give them what they wanted so they could would help her, only to lord it over their heads for whatever other encounters they may have. Sam and Dean weren’t going to see her break down and confess her sins. They weren’t her priest in the confessional-in fact, they were far from it.
Added to the fact that she had already been ostracized once for that blot in her past, she wasn’t necessarily in the mood to have it happen to her again. She would rather handle things on her own, and most certainly drown on dry land at the hands of the spirit, rather than give them the secret they sought, give them the information they would only use to bury her, let them know that she was human and she was terrified, just like everyone else.
She did have her pride after all.
302 words