Wounds of Filth

Chapter 1: Misery in Waking

By: DeathIsOnlyTheBeginin

DISCLAIMER: I DONT OWN TEEN TITANS...I KNOW...I THOUGHT I DID TOO.

(Enjoy! Read and Review Please!)


"Master...there is no time...we must act."

"I shall be the one to decide when the time is right! How dare you challenge my authority!"

Silenced, the first hushed, bowing his head, "Forgive me, Master. It wont happen again."

A low growl of asserted approval was the reply, and a dim, red glow swelled, brightening the gorge; it glittered in the depths of a single eye.

"The child?"

"She is oblivious, my lord."

"...And?" The raspy voice echoed around him, and he bowed lower,

"And she will continue to remain so until you order otherwise."

A hoarse chuckle rumbled through the cavern, and Slade exhaled, easing.

"Servant."

He lifted his head, shoulders squaring, "Yes?"

"...A little while longer...Be ready. I'll send for you soon."

"Yes, Master."


Dull, amethyst eyes stared back at a pair in exact likeness, the feelings hidden behind them, hollow and useless. Heavy bags sagged beneath her drained depths, dark with unbearable fatigue.

"Lords..."

Raven closed her eyes, massaging the bridge of her nose with two fingers; fate had such dry humor. Her lips twitched, frowning, and a worn sigh snuck past them. She rubbed her hand over her groggy face, working out the worry lines before lifting it to her eyes.

There, engraved deep within the skin of her palm, shone a vibrant, ruby marking. She traced it silently with her fingers, wincing as a spark of pain spread across her hand and up her arm. Raven's fingers clenched into a fist and she shut her eyes, inhaling through gritted teeth. The liquid fire was insufferable, spreading farther, past her shoulders and into her spine; it stretched, pouring through out her nerves. Raven hissed, doubling over.

'Azarath, Metrion, Zinthose...'

Her skin practically lit with her thoughts and she threw her head back, whining loudly; 'Azarath, Metrion, Zinthose...Azarath Metrion, Zinthose...'

Her mantra leisurely took effect, soothing the burning flame to smoldering ash, and the half-daemon relaxed. Breathing slowly, she opened her eyes, glared down at the putrid design shimmering within her palm.

They were getting worse.

Raven stood and dropped her hands, gripping the bottom of her black, night shirt. She quickly tugged it over her head and tossed it to the floor.

Frowning, she examined her body; red tattoos flowed over the expanse of her gray skin, twinkling in the neon yellow glow of the bathroom lights. Sickly brilliant, they mocked her existence, their crimson color a constant, revolting ridicule of her true functions. She felt her upper lip curl in disgust and her eyes flicked back to the mirror.

A longhaired, sadistic form of a girl stared back at her, disdain etched across her features; Raven shook her head and looked down. A lifeless expression on her face, she ran a finger along the pattern curling over her stomach. The burning ignited, dull, slowly spreading; she mentally cringed, but for the most part, chose to ignore it. Raven had dealt with far worse pain in her life, and would positively face much more in her future.

Future.

Nausea washed over her, consumed her, and her surroundings began to spin. Bile rose in her throat and Raven's fingers latched to the vanity, just as her knees gave out. Her grip slipped, nails scratching across the metal surface, and she collapsed to the floor.

Her gut plummeted and her head smacked against the floor. Raven closed her eyes at the impact and her teeth sliced through her tongue, blood pouring down the back of her throat. She laid there silently, the cold tile pressing against her bare back and calves; the markings there sizzled hotly. She acknowledged the pain with a facade of ease, her eyes glued to the ceiling, gaze empty.

Future.

How could she ever tell them? Ever utter those words? Words that would seal her fate? Their fate? Such a deed was impossible.

Anguish welled inside her, fought off her other emotions until all she could feel was it's vile suffocation. It pounded in her pulse, blood racing through her veins, thundering in her temples. And Raven couldn't help but smirk.

Impossible. The very idea of her birth right at all was impossible.

Her eyes slowly drifted closed, and for a moment, she put her mind to rest, caring not about the agony she would be in once she awoke.

...'...You can't hide, you know.'

Raven glared up at the bathroom ceiling, numb as she fought to snub the voice coursing through her head. But Slade was relentless.

'...It's almost time...'

Raven' set her jaw, feigning indifference, though she shook as she attempted to push herself up. Her body didn't comply.

'Almost time...How exciting...'

Silently panicking, Raven gritted her teeth and attempted to sit up once again. Still, her efforts proved in vein.

"...Your destiny is truly...awe-inspiring..."

Her violet eyes grew wide, and she glanced around, seeking him out, "Show yourself."

His low chuckle was her only reply, "Such a sad little bird..."

Her body slowly began to rise from the tile, the smooth surface sticking to her slightly. She gasped and tried to fight him off, but to no use. Slade lifted her, and she hung before him, face to face.

Raven's head lolled forward, her chin resting against her chest as her toes barely brushed the floor. She glanced down at her body, remembering for the first time that she was naked, spare her black underwear, and she felt alien tears well in her eyes. Her body, her power...was all at the mercy of this mad man.

His laughter rang through her ears,

"Why?" his fingers brushed her cheek, "Why do you hide your eyes from me? Can't you see that we can give you everything you've ever desired?"

Raven lifted her head, locking eyes with him and glaring daggers.

"There is nothing you can give me that I will ever want."

Slade linked both hands behind his back.

"How wrong you are."

He chuckled and seized her neck; a choked gasp rolled from Raven's pale lips.

"Think Raven! Total control! You'll be able to feel freely!"

Rage welled in her chest, screaming, and roaring with anger. It tore through her, the irate emotion battling to be let loose.

"No." Raven replied sternly, eyes narrowing. Slade smirked behind the metal of his mask.

Rage hissed in her ear and Raven's eyes began to glow white as she fought her off.

"Release it, Raven. Give in."

Rage cooed and her skin began to crawl, her insides searing with emotion as the rest of her inner selves began beating their fists against the hollow of her mind.

"No!" She wailed, but her depths expanded and Rage engulfed her; her eyes flickered to red and separated into another pair. Slade released her neck, watching with fascination as her red engravings slowly began to blaze, the glow weaving up over the swirls and sharp edges in a fire like spasm. Designs spread up her neck, wove over her face, wiped and raced across her forehead before spilling into the center jewel, making it flame.

Raven let out an ear-piercing scream, her power breaking the barriers of his own, and she crippled. Rays of red shot from her eyes, completely filling the room with a blinding, scarlet light.

Slade shielded his eye with an arm, the screeching of the juvenile daemon raking over him like physical blows. The snuck beneath his armor and he groaned in pain, the force seeming to almost tear the rotting flesh from his bones. And then, sudden silence hit.

Eye wide, Slade lowered his arm, and watched as the bird crumpled to the floor, indigo hair shielding her face. With a nod, Slade spoke, "It's always the quiet ones..."

Raven lifted her gaze to him, crimson and hateful. Her breathing was raspy, shallow through her gritted teeth, animal like growls rumbling in her chest with every exhale. Her body shook as she hugged herself, fingernails digging into the flesh of her arms.

"Bastard," she hissed. Slade simply shook his head,

"You're ready."...

Raven's eyes snapped open and her mouth parted in a silent scream. She jolted upward, arms wrapping around herself, and she began to shudder. She panted, breathing short as she attempted to regain composure. Her scars burned with ferocious vigor and as she fought desperately to make them disappear. It took all of her concentration, but she finally succeeded.

Knock, knock.

Her head swung around to the door. And with a choppy sigh she forced herself to relax,

"Who's there?"

"Robin."

Unconsciously, Raven's lower lip began to quiver as she stood, tears pouring from her eyes and down her cheeks. Annoyed, she brushed them away and bent over, grabbing her nightgown. She pulled it over her head and padded across the floor to the door. She pressed her fingers on the panel; With a soft whoosh, it swung open.

Robin stood before her, adorned in his uniform, masked eyes glowing. He took in her disheveled appearance slowly, noting the tear stains on her face and puff eyes. Sigh, his eyes softened.

"You alright?"

Raven blinked, faking confusion.

'No.'

"Yes." She replied monotonously, her eyes blank, and she brushed past him. Robin stumbled backward, watching her; he sighed again,

"What's going on, Raven?"

She halted at his inquiry, tensing slightly,

'I'm the walking Armageddon, Robin.'

"Nothing."

Robin scowled, "Liar."

Raven whirled around, eyes narrowed, "I don't lie."

He chuckled, crossing his arms, "A lie on top of a lie."

Her lips pursed slightly, yet her eyes lost their annoyance.

'Could you forgive me? ...Will you?'

"You wanted the bathroom. So use it."

"Actually, I didn't." he shrugged, scratching his head, "I was sort of checking on you. You were in there for a long time."

She arched an eyebrow, "Since when do you care about where I am?"

He shrugged again, "I don't. But it's kind of hard not to notice that someone's been in the bathroom for three hours."

Raven's lips twitched in amusement, but she didn't reply. He sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair before turning around and starting down the stairs,

"Raven...whatever's bothering you, can't be that bad."

She watched him descend and enter the kitchen, before muttering, "Yes, it can."

Raven lifted her palm and stared down at the blank skin. Sighing, she brushed the fingers through her long hair and scowled. She'd have to cut it again.


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.