AN: I don't like this story, and if you do, yay. I wrote this for the Veritaville fic exchange. This one's for Holderofhope-1794. Hope you like it!

The prompts were:

the road to heaven is paved with blood.

torn throne

the female hive-mind


The sad thing about the world I live in is the fact that I can't get out.

It's not possible.

You see, Gaia really fucked with everything when she took Zeus' throne, imprisoned everyone who ever did anything for the gods in the Underworld, and enslaved humans.

You can't die in this world.

Sounds lovely, right? Just wait. It gets better.

When I was four years old, I lived in my house, my name was Caitlin, and I had one sister and two parents. The world was amazing.

When I was five years old, I lived in a facility, my name was 14096.652D, and I had one sister and one parent. The world was in ruins.

To tell you the truth, I don't think 14096.652D is that charming a name either, but when they tattoo it onto your arms and legs, it kind of sticks.

I can still faintly remember my mom, can remember the Sundays in church, the soda and candy I was not supposed to have but always got. I can remember my sister's shows, the ones with the Disney logo at the bottom.

But it's hard.

It's hard to remember that night when my mom and dad bought a tent and we all went camping but I burned my marshmallow so my sister gave me hers.

It's hard to remember the day I finally won Monopoly (and I still didn't know how to play).

It's hard to remember my stuffed bunny, Vanilla.

It's hard to remember the pool noodle fights my cousins had.

It's hard to remember my Halloween costume as a pumpkin.

It's hard to remember that my family loved me.

It's hard to forget the tattoos they buzzed onto my skin, the ones that say my 'name'.

It's hard to forget the monsters, the ones that are just mind controlled buff and bloodthirsty girls. Who have no free will and thoughts. Who are part of a hive mind.

It's hard to forget that my sister was chosen to be one of those.

It's hard to forget the moment my father panicked and hid me in an abandoned library.

It's hard to forget the hours he spent hacking onto the world database and deleting me. Permanently.

It's hard to forget the hours I spent crying and feeling sorry for myself.

I had just began to know how to read.

I was six years old, and I could recite the alphabet, read those cardboard books, and write simple sentences.

Since the only thing I could do was read, I read.

I have read hundreds of books in my life.

I know exactly how the world was.

And I wish I could have been there.

I wanted to help.

To rebel.

To bring down the so called 'leaders'.

How?

I was only a girl. A girl who had no idea just how powerful these horrible people were.

Of course, stupid girls always try anyway.

After considering it for a while, I thought the most logical answer was to try and dig into the Underworld.

And try and find a hero.

I'm so smart.

There was nothing I could dig with, so I tried to dig with a broken bookcase.

It didn't really work.

I ended up falling on the bookcase, sharp side up.

The pain in my side was overwhelming alone, but the fact that it caused me to fall on to the ground on my back hurt. A lot.

And then I was sprawled on the floor in agony, and I couldn't move anything but my lips, eyes, and fingertips.

If the world was right, I'd probably be on some murder show.

The cause of death would be bleeding to death.

It's funny that right then and there the hallucinations started.

All the things I wanted.

I felt peaceful, almost.

I was away. I was in heaven.

If I'd known the road to heaven was paved in blood, I might have stabbed myself earlier.

Hell, I was already going crazy from being alone.

The full on insanity was only delayed.

I used to wonder why crazy people never wanted to get better, like the Joker.

Now I knew.

It was too hard to live in sanity.

Too harsh.


Woot, hope you liked it. Happy New Year's. You ready to die?