Millijana
Rare-Mob
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Ella ist mein Char für die längere Vega Romanze, die ich da für mich so ein bisschen hinkritzel. Da ich, selbst wenn ich sie doch irgendwann mal irgendwo hochladen werde, sie auf deutsch schreibe, ist das für die englisch-sprachigen Leutchen auf tumblr nun eher doof.
Darum ein bisschen was zu ihrer Vergangenheit auf Englisch.
Ihr origin ist, earth born/war hero.
Es werden kurze Drabbles, ohne Anspruch auf chronologische Reihenfolge sein.
The Earth Years: Sixteen
She screwed up her eyes and made a hissing sound.
Fuck, that hurt.
She had known it would be no breeze, but not that much. But the artist had already told her how sensitive the area around the spine could be. And he had told her the thigh could be even more painful, and her knee.. and maybe every part of her fucking body the tattoo would pass.
But it would be worth it. Every inch of pain would be worth the outcome. The pain was almost comforting. It soothed away the rest of her feelings. She still heard the shot in her dreams and smelled his blood whenever she closed her eyes.
Alcohol did help in the beginning, but then she reminded herself of the bastard who used to be her dad and she destroyed every drop of alcohol in her room she could find in her frenzy. Eventually shed begun to find other things that would distract her. Things that would exhaust her enough to give her a deep dreamless sleep.
She ran, faster and further shed ever done. She lifted more weight than any other woman she knew. She fought men, for the challenge; and won. The bruises would fade and the little wounds wouldnt give her scars. All of this would fade; except for the pain inside of her. She needed something more permanent. Something that would remind her even if the pain would ever stop.
The pain was inside her and would never leave her completely. Like her implants it ran along her nerves, her spine and her muscles. It. made very move harder and easier at the same time.
But this physical pain made her feel better, even before the tattoo was finished.
This was even better than the one time shed lost a fight and was brought to hospital with a broken arm, broken ribs and an internal bleeding from her perforated stomach. She ran from the hospital as soon as possible after her surgery. Before they could contact her son of a bitch of a father and they could ask for the non-existent insurance.
Shed been a bit sad that there would be no scar from this incident. One of the nurses had told her they had given their best to not let her pretty body show any sign of this surgery and the terrible thing that had happened to her. She would have laughed if she wouldnt still have been too drugged to do anything more than smile. What did they know? It had been the best fight of her life. And she would have loved a reminder but those fucking docs did their jobs too well.
She laid there for hours thinking on her lifes decisions and what they had made of her. A tough bitch some called her. They did not know how little they could be further away from the truth. She was broken and didnt care anymore for herself. What could happen to her that was worse than her botched life. She always snorted when someone called her tough and smiled ironically. Yah, sure. Think whatever you wish to think. I dont give a shit. And you obviously, too.
She started to shiver and sweat at the same time.
I think we should stop, girl.
I donT care what you think. Just carry on.
The artist sighed and hesitated. Girl, you start shivering, its too much for your body.
Once again: I dont care what you think. And even more I never let my body decide when its enough. She turned her head a bit to look at them man. I have no idea if I will live long enough to come back. So finish this fucking tattoo and you wont have to think about me again.
He looked at her as if he had to ponder whether she was serious or if she was just making up to keep him going. Finally he continued his work, and Ella rested her head on her forearms again and closed her eyes.
No shooting, no ugly laughter, no questions if she was willing to obey now, no metallic scent of blood, no pain loaded groans from the floor beside her, no tears in her eyes, no fear, no surrendering. Just this pain on her skin and its sensitive nerves, the humming of the inking tool and the breath of the man behind her, who is not touching her with bare hands; whos not allowed to do this. The gun in her hand that made sure hes doing what she is paying for and wouldnt make any other move towards her. She knew his rep, but also that hes the best one in New York.
She had to smile. Yeah, right now she was feeling like a tough bitch. And she had to admit, she could get used to it.
Darum ein bisschen was zu ihrer Vergangenheit auf Englisch.
Ihr origin ist, earth born/war hero.
Es werden kurze Drabbles, ohne Anspruch auf chronologische Reihenfolge sein.
The Earth Years: Sixteen
She screwed up her eyes and made a hissing sound.
Fuck, that hurt.
She had known it would be no breeze, but not that much. But the artist had already told her how sensitive the area around the spine could be. And he had told her the thigh could be even more painful, and her knee.. and maybe every part of her fucking body the tattoo would pass.
But it would be worth it. Every inch of pain would be worth the outcome. The pain was almost comforting. It soothed away the rest of her feelings. She still heard the shot in her dreams and smelled his blood whenever she closed her eyes.
Alcohol did help in the beginning, but then she reminded herself of the bastard who used to be her dad and she destroyed every drop of alcohol in her room she could find in her frenzy. Eventually shed begun to find other things that would distract her. Things that would exhaust her enough to give her a deep dreamless sleep.
She ran, faster and further shed ever done. She lifted more weight than any other woman she knew. She fought men, for the challenge; and won. The bruises would fade and the little wounds wouldnt give her scars. All of this would fade; except for the pain inside of her. She needed something more permanent. Something that would remind her even if the pain would ever stop.
The pain was inside her and would never leave her completely. Like her implants it ran along her nerves, her spine and her muscles. It. made very move harder and easier at the same time.
But this physical pain made her feel better, even before the tattoo was finished.
This was even better than the one time shed lost a fight and was brought to hospital with a broken arm, broken ribs and an internal bleeding from her perforated stomach. She ran from the hospital as soon as possible after her surgery. Before they could contact her son of a bitch of a father and they could ask for the non-existent insurance.
Shed been a bit sad that there would be no scar from this incident. One of the nurses had told her they had given their best to not let her pretty body show any sign of this surgery and the terrible thing that had happened to her. She would have laughed if she wouldnt still have been too drugged to do anything more than smile. What did they know? It had been the best fight of her life. And she would have loved a reminder but those fucking docs did their jobs too well.
She laid there for hours thinking on her lifes decisions and what they had made of her. A tough bitch some called her. They did not know how little they could be further away from the truth. She was broken and didnt care anymore for herself. What could happen to her that was worse than her botched life. She always snorted when someone called her tough and smiled ironically. Yah, sure. Think whatever you wish to think. I dont give a shit. And you obviously, too.
She started to shiver and sweat at the same time.
I think we should stop, girl.
I donT care what you think. Just carry on.
The artist sighed and hesitated. Girl, you start shivering, its too much for your body.
Once again: I dont care what you think. And even more I never let my body decide when its enough. She turned her head a bit to look at them man. I have no idea if I will live long enough to come back. So finish this fucking tattoo and you wont have to think about me again.
He looked at her as if he had to ponder whether she was serious or if she was just making up to keep him going. Finally he continued his work, and Ella rested her head on her forearms again and closed her eyes.
No shooting, no ugly laughter, no questions if she was willing to obey now, no metallic scent of blood, no pain loaded groans from the floor beside her, no tears in her eyes, no fear, no surrendering. Just this pain on her skin and its sensitive nerves, the humming of the inking tool and the breath of the man behind her, who is not touching her with bare hands; whos not allowed to do this. The gun in her hand that made sure hes doing what she is paying for and wouldnt make any other move towards her. She knew his rep, but also that hes the best one in New York.
She had to smile. Yeah, right now she was feeling like a tough bitch. And she had to admit, she could get used to it.