[JMM] Once upon a time
[Set in Winchester Initiative.]
Once upon a time, she was a person.
She was real and human, and she was stupid. She let the black eyes seduce her, the power draw her in to something she didn’t understand. She signed away her soul, all purity and light all to see things spark at the edge of her fingertips. She turned it dark and ugly, tarnished it beyond repair all because of the things she wanted.
She was selfish. She was stupid. And she paid for that, far more than would probably be fair.
Once upon a time, she was in Hell.
In Hell, they fill you full of holes. They tear you apart, rip you open and try to make you like them. They take away the parts of you, the parts that remind you of who you were-the way your sister used to laugh, or the way your father would sing you to sleep-and they replace it with screams, pain and terror until you’re just as angry as they are. Just as broken as they are.
She was in Hell for a long time. They broke her down into pieces and in order to get out, she sold her soul again. Promised to take care of business, get Lilith what she needed. Get him to abandon himself for her, and she could do that. It was doable. She was a woman after all.
Eve was who she was for a reason.
Once upon a time, she was blond.
Blond was a fighter-hard lines and a tough attitude. He wasn’t going to fall for sweet and slow, not like most. He needed to be hard as well, to punch those holes in his soul before they could. It hurt less when you do it yourself. You didn’t aim for pain when you were doing it on your own. You only punched them so that they wouldn’t take it away when you went down there.
He didn’t make holes easy. They needed to make some for him, but she wasn’t there for the big one. The one that punched him out and gave him to her she wasn’t even there to see or fix, and that was what she regretted most.
Once upon a time, she was a brunette.
Brunette was warm. Brunette was him. Brunette was love and all the things that she thought had been made to holes and forgotten, but she hadn’t. She let him touch her, let him inside her, and she couldn’t take that back. She couldn’t give him to Lilith. So she didn’t.
She turned her back on her deal, and in the end, he saved her. When she was the one who was supposed to be saving him. She still didn’t know how that worked.
Once upon a time, she was a mother.
Her heart had felt big and heavy in her chest when she held her boy for the first time. It was like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly she was capable of so much more than she was. He was small, tiny and perfect, and so fragile that she thought she might break him, but there he was.
He was a miracle. She’d never held a miracle before, and it shone so bright that it burned, but she didn’t care. She was his mother. And she would never let him go.
Once upon a time, she was in Hell. Again.
This time, the holes they were punching were worse. They were taking away her love, her miracle and replacing them with the screams again. These hurt so much more than the first time, long hard slices through her body as more holes got punched into her. Over and over again, every day for fifty years. It hurt.
It hurt so much, she eventually started to forget.
Once upon a time, there was a room with a lot of bright light.
There were voices calling to her, trying to make her understand, to calm down, but she didn’t want them near her. The light edges were hard and soft at the same time, cold on the edges but they burned in the middle. She could see the shadows coming at her, big and wide, trying to touch her, but she just kept throwing them back, pushing them away.
She wasn’t where she belonged. She had too many holes. She didn’t belong here.
She just wanted to forget.
745 words
Once upon a time, she was a person.
She was real and human, and she was stupid. She let the black eyes seduce her, the power draw her in to something she didn’t understand. She signed away her soul, all purity and light all to see things spark at the edge of her fingertips. She turned it dark and ugly, tarnished it beyond repair all because of the things she wanted.
She was selfish. She was stupid. And she paid for that, far more than would probably be fair.
Once upon a time, she was in Hell.
In Hell, they fill you full of holes. They tear you apart, rip you open and try to make you like them. They take away the parts of you, the parts that remind you of who you were-the way your sister used to laugh, or the way your father would sing you to sleep-and they replace it with screams, pain and terror until you’re just as angry as they are. Just as broken as they are.
She was in Hell for a long time. They broke her down into pieces and in order to get out, she sold her soul again. Promised to take care of business, get Lilith what she needed. Get him to abandon himself for her, and she could do that. It was doable. She was a woman after all.
Eve was who she was for a reason.
Once upon a time, she was blond.
Blond was a fighter-hard lines and a tough attitude. He wasn’t going to fall for sweet and slow, not like most. He needed to be hard as well, to punch those holes in his soul before they could. It hurt less when you do it yourself. You didn’t aim for pain when you were doing it on your own. You only punched them so that they wouldn’t take it away when you went down there.
He didn’t make holes easy. They needed to make some for him, but she wasn’t there for the big one. The one that punched him out and gave him to her she wasn’t even there to see or fix, and that was what she regretted most.
Once upon a time, she was a brunette.
Brunette was warm. Brunette was him. Brunette was love and all the things that she thought had been made to holes and forgotten, but she hadn’t. She let him touch her, let him inside her, and she couldn’t take that back. She couldn’t give him to Lilith. So she didn’t.
She turned her back on her deal, and in the end, he saved her. When she was the one who was supposed to be saving him. She still didn’t know how that worked.
Once upon a time, she was a mother.
Her heart had felt big and heavy in her chest when she held her boy for the first time. It was like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly she was capable of so much more than she was. He was small, tiny and perfect, and so fragile that she thought she might break him, but there he was.
He was a miracle. She’d never held a miracle before, and it shone so bright that it burned, but she didn’t care. She was his mother. And she would never let him go.
Once upon a time, she was in Hell. Again.
This time, the holes they were punching were worse. They were taking away her love, her miracle and replacing them with the screams again. These hurt so much more than the first time, long hard slices through her body as more holes got punched into her. Over and over again, every day for fifty years. It hurt.
It hurt so much, she eventually started to forget.
Once upon a time, there was a room with a lot of bright light.
There were voices calling to her, trying to make her understand, to calm down, but she didn’t want them near her. The light edges were hard and soft at the same time, cold on the edges but they burned in the middle. She could see the shadows coming at her, big and wide, trying to touch her, but she just kept throwing them back, pushing them away.
She wasn’t where she belonged. She had too many holes. She didn’t belong here.
She just wanted to forget.
745 words