Bleeding Bones: Catalyst

Peeling away the skin to devour the pulpy meat the lies beneath. That is what she was to her creators. Nothing more than the sweet pulpy meat that held more secrets than the universe.

Before she could even speak to the savior; his voice echoed through her phonem with a phrase that she was used to him saying, “Don’t say anything, and just listen.” So, she listened to the savior.

“You need to move. Do not stay in one place for too long. They cannot take you back. They will make more, and this time they will not fail,” the savior explained to her. She stayed silent.

“I will help you, and keep them from ever taking you again. I will give my life to ensure that you will never be used, and hurt again,” the savior continued. She did not understand what being used and being hurt meant. She understood these concepts on an intelligent level, but not on any emotional level. All she knew was being used, and hurt. For the greater good, she was always told. She was all that was left of the “greater good.” The only family she knew was destroyed by the only mothers and fathers she knew. The mothers and fathers killed their children, because the mothers and fathers viewed them as a mistake that could not be corrected. The mistake was not of the children, but of the mothers and fathers.

The savior spoke again, “You know where to meet me. Get there now.” He hung up. Then she did.

She turned from the window to the already packed backpack that was sitting on the bed. She knew that the savior was going to call. She already knew what he was going to say. She was already prepared for what was to come. She knows that her mothers and fathers are calling her back home. She takes out the knife she has had since she was a child, flips the blade out, and takes the sliver edge to her arm.

She winces, but does not flinch. She digs deep, and finds what the creators have placed into her. With a pop, the device comes out, and falls to the ground. She wraps her arms with the bandages she had prepared. She takes the device that has controlled her for as long as she can remember and examines it. She feels it between her fingers, and then throws it to the floor. She takes crushes the device under her boot. She half smiles, but she knows that she will never be free. The creators. The mothers, and fathers need her. She is the catalyst. She is Catalyst.

Bleeding Bones: The Creation

She was one of thirty six. The thirty-six were supposed to be the saviors of humanity, but the thirty-six became something more. They became…gods.

She was unique, and caught the attention of her creators. She had talents that not human, let alone woman, should have been blessed with. She did not look upon these talents as a blessing. These “talents” were a curse that was passed down to her. Her creators always told her, since she was brought to them at the age of four, that she was blessed. She knew better, even at the age of four that she was not blessed. Her creators manipulated, and formed her into their own image. The creation of the thirty-six began with her.

She was the first, and now she is the last. She loved, and a part of her still loves her creators. Her creators were the only contact she had with the idea of security, love, and nourishment. Her creators wanted her to believe that they were the only ones who could accept her for what she is, and who she is. She never knew any other way. She never knew that her future held a different idea.

Her identity, the real her, would never be revealed to her. She would never know who she once was. The child that was her, became nothing but a long forgotten memory. Her creators wiped all memories, of a life that she once knew, clean. Her creators needed a clean, untarnished mind, to form, and…create. She was only four when the mind of her former self was erased, and the mind that her creators implanted was born. 

The others, the ones who would become a part of the thirty-six, came year after year. She never saw the others, until the creators decided too expose her to, what she would come to know as, her family. Her brothers, and sisters. The others were her playmates, her combatants, and her adversaries. The thirty-six did not know that one day their creators would turn on them, and betray the very trust the creators instilled, in the thirty-six.

She sits, in her flat. She looks out of her window, onto the street below. Every human she witnesses is a potential enemy. Trust is a foregone idea. Her eyes are aware, and scanning the world beyond the pane. She allows herself to fall into a trance…soaking up the world beyond the pane.

She is brought back to present time by the ringing of her phone. Only one would call her. Only one knows of her existence, outside of the thirty-six, and her creators. He is her salvation. She lets the phone ring, and go to her voice mail. The the phone rings again, and she knows that the person on the other line is him. The salvation that she needs. She picks up her phone, before the last ring………

Bleeding Bones

We all come from somewhere, and we all end up at another place. She is not sure where the fuck she is to end up, but she knows where she came from. She is not sure why, at this time, and place, she sits looking out her flat window. She rubs her tattooed arm. A constant itch. A constant reminder of what is hidden underneath that tattooed arm.

“I am a marked woman,” she thinks to herself. A second chance at life, but what type of like does she have when she is enslaved. She rubs her arm. Reminded of  a choice that was not hers, and that the idea of choices is a foreign concept to her.

“This was supposed to be for the best,” she mumbles to herself, looking out at the illusion of normal. “The best for who?” she asks the illusion.

She wants her choices back. She wants become unmarked. She wants to shatter the illusion……