Melpomene, Greek Muse of Tragedy. And Singing. (greek_tragedy) wrote in utr_logs, @ 2009-03-21 20:16:00 |
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"Tell us who are."
"Melpomene."
The slap to her face stung - not only did it hurt, it shocked her. It wasn't a name to bring spite, so she thought.
"Full name! Human name!"
"Melpomene!"
Again with the slap, though this one was met with a bit of preparation, face turning slightly to the side. Not that it stopped the sting.
"Not your mutant name!"
"M'not a mutant!"
"Oh yeah?"
She could hear the snarl in the voice, even though she couldn't see who was asking the questions.
"Then what?"
"A Muse..."
She expected the slap.
The fist to the jaw knocked her head back, and consiousness fled.
The chair, the room, the gas, the drink they gave her, the cuts, the bruises, the weird cuff on her ankle. It all just bled together, always culminating in this room.. the lavender lights that were too bright for sleep but too dim to really see... the confusion, the pain. She ached, everywhere... they wouldn't cut, but they pummeled, they burned, they bruised. And nothing seemed to heal - she didn't know if she couldn't, or if they just didn't give her time. There was no more time. And underneath it all lurked the vague notion that she should be able to do anything... but the thought was fleeting, and never let her take hold. And that noise... that noise ate at her mind, burrowing in...She hurt. It was the first thing she could focus on when she began to wake up, face turning quickly away from the hand slapping at her cheek. She was in a chair, and her clothes were... not her clothes. It looked like hospital scrubs from a pediatric ward, all bright and cheerful with bears on it. Her hair was down, a knotted mess, and there were bandages on her arm. It seemed funny to her that they'd hit her, but bandage it - at least until she overheard the conversation between the people she couldn't see.
"I'm not trying again! She bled on Tom's hand, and he said it burned. You want to stick this freak with a needle, you do it yourself." "That's insubordination!" "That's fucking safety. Gas the bitch. And get a cuff on her..."
She felt the mask being pressed against her face, and she just held her breath at first, inhaling only when hot metal pressed in against her arm, causing a sharp yelp. The gas entered her system and offered the desired effect, clouding her brain and bringing all the confusion to the surface. She heard the questions asked again - who are you, what do you do, what kind of mutant are you? Melpomene, I inspireI sing,I'm not a mutant I'm a muse, you're not there's only One God and he hates freaks - and cringed, knowing they wouldn't like the answers, but something kept her from being able to make up ones they liked.