A/N: Well it may not seem like it but it is mythology (Christian I think and Greek) as it will have some Greek gods/goddess in it and the seven Sins. This is my NaNoWriMo story so I do have quite a bit that can be posted (exceot I’m missing the middle) it’s not quite done as I type but still…This is the first chapter and a prologue overview of sorts…

Warnings: Two detailed murders…that’s about it in this chapter.

A Story That Should Never Be Told

This is my story. A story that should never, and will never be told, unless I do it. It is not to be taken lightly. And perhaps parts can even be counted as morally disturbing. Some things you should know about us first. Mainly, about what I am. You see I am one of the chosen seven, one of the seven deadly sins. Every so often a mortal is born who embodies one of the sins. Often times this fact is not brought to the attention of the mortal, because we enjoy being a sin too much. However, on occasion a sin feels that they are ready to give it up, to move on to death. The old sin then goes to inform the new sin about what they truly are. If the mortal is willing to accept it, and so far all of us have, they eventually kill the old sin. Thus they then become that deadly sin. Every sin so far has had a choice. Every sin, that is, but me.

But this story does not revolve around how I became my sin. No. This story goes much deeper then that. In fact my ascension into a sin was rather boring, not much too it. It wasn’t elaborate like Sloth’s or dramatic like Lust’s. Nor was it adorable like Envy’s. For mine, there is not much to tell. I just killed the old sin and took his place. That’s when I officially became a sin. However, to me the first time I displayed my sin was when I became that sin. I became it because I let it take over me. My thoughts, my words and most importantly my actions. That is the story that should never be told. Yet it is the story I will tell you now, for it needs to be written. Or else it will be lost.

When I was a child, a very long time ago, my name was…Isobel. Yes, my name was Isobel Martyn. I was a lucky child. I was born into a family that loved me and cared for me. I could do no wrong in the eyes of my father. My mother was always worried about me, but she would eventually give in and let me do what I wanted. They would tuck me in every night before I went to bed. Sometimes if I was lucky, they would each read me a bedtime story. If not, then it was my father who had the honour. I loved my parents, and I would do whatever they asked of me. I was the perfect little child always trying to please them. And, most importantly, always succeeding.

However, they weren’t always around as much as I’d like them to be. My mother was an actress and my father was a very important businessman. I suppose that’s why my older brother and I were so close. Edric was six years older then I was. It was because of the vast age difference we did not fight. My brother was my idol. He was perfect and I looked up to him, both literally and figuratively. He would always let me spend time with him. We did most things together and he was the one who began to teach me “self-defence”.

We would spend hours playing imaginary games in our backyard on the weekends. He didn’t need to worry about getting caught as our parents were busy during the day and our nanny left us alone. We would play games about knights and royalty. Edric would always let me be the knight that would save the day. But my favourite was the games about fairies and defending Faerie. I don’t know how but my brother always seemed to have a different weapon for me to learn how to use. Nothing bad ever came out of it as we both were careful not to get hurt. Even a small cut could raise suspicion. It never occurred to me that these games, the very games I loved, that I looked forward too, were invented to train me.

From a young age I was trained in combat. Both with weapons and hand-to-hand combat. Edric made me promise on a faerie mound not to tell anyone. That if I told, even a single soul, mum would find out and I would never be able to play these games with him again. I was selfish, so I kept it my own secret. These games were the only time that I had alone with Edric and I wanted nothing to change. So they continued for years without the knowledge of anyone. As I grew older Edric began to trust me more. Soon he’d let me keep the weapons in my room as long as no one was allowed in. I eagerly abided by his condition.

That was the end of the bedtime stories. At age six, I already had an impressive weapon collection. Edric didn’t make me just learn how to use them, he made me learn what they were called their origins, what they were good for, advantages and disadvantages, that sort of thing. I was not only skilled but knowledgeable. Knowing that I was only seven by the time I’d finally learned enough to please my brother was probably why the old sin decided to step down. Only at age seven, I still hadn’t shown any signs of my sin. Unless you count my aggression that I’d been taught from my lessons. Then you could say that I started my pathway to a sin at age six. Because at age four it was all in fun. Age six was when I began to take it more seriously.

Looking back on my relationship with Edric now I see that it was him. He used me for his own personal gain, whatever it may be. Like I stated before; I did not have I choice in becoming a sin. And it’s true, my dear brother made it for me. I suppose I can say that the decision was made when I was four. That’s when it all started. That’s the year my life slowly began to tear itself apart from my grasp. You know all about my training, but that is not what decayed my life. My training was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. No. It was my parents that decayed my life and turned me into the monster I truly am. My brother may have created the monster and gave it life, but my parents helped develop the slumbering beast inside of me. All my brother did after that was unleash it.

You may be wondering what happened when I was four that started my downward spiral. My parents never really got along that well, to this day I still say they stayed together because of me. That’s how much they loved me and it is there love for me that made the monster do what it did. Perhaps that is why I now call myself a thing. No longer am I a person, in fact I am well past that. I suppose I haven’t regarded me as a person since I was ten. For that is when the monster was unleashed, and though it is now tame and inside of me (living happily I may add) it will never truly go away. It is and always will be there. But it doesn’t have a gender and cannot be classified as a human, so using that logic I am, clearly, an it.

According to my brother my parents began to fight more frequently with each other. I didn’t notice it, or if I did I clearly didn’t pay attention. When I was eight their fights became more violent. Aware that this could cause me a mental break down, or something to that effect, they began to make sure they were not home at the same time. So I began to see less and less of them together, as Edric (I suppose it was him, I still don’t really know) made them spend all the important holidays and our birthdays together. This was for my benefit, though those get-togethers were always awkward.

I remember my brother one day telling me that soon our parents would no longer live in the same house. That they were going to file for divorce. To this day I still remember his explanation of what it meant for us. He said, “They don’t really care for me much Isobel but they adore you. In fact they adore you so much they won’t be able to decide who gets to keep you.” I inquired what they would do about it and he looked at me with his wide sad eyes and continued. “They will ripe you into two piece Isobel.” His voice was solemn. “Two pieces so that they both each can have a part of you to love.”

I began to cry so hard and so uncontrollable. I loved my parents and they loved me. I couldn’t understand why they would want to ripe me in two and destroy me. I did understand that I would die if my parents did what my brother had said. And why wouldn’t they? I mean, my brother had never lied to me before so why would he start now. Remember my brother was the only thing in my life that had remained constant. He was my idol and could do no wrong.

Now do you understand my dilemma? Luckily it was two years, two long years, before anything happened in regards to my dilemma. Two years of pure bliss. Two years in which I honestly can’t tell you what happened. Then that fateful afternoon arrived. My brother and I were playing outside like any other weekend. He was summoned inside the house to talk to our parents.

I was all giddy inside, because you see; it was rare for them to be home on a weekend together without a good reason. A few ideas scurried through y mind. Ideas that they were finally getting back together, that they would be staying home for good, and my personal favourite, that I no longer had to take math. Math is such a pointless boring subject. When are you ever really going to use it in everyday life? I know my basics and that’s good enough for me. However it is apparently not good enough for my math teachers who all wanted to fail me. I know that one plus one equals chocolate fudge cake what else is there to know?...Right counting to ten. Don’t worry I can do that too. But I’m sure you can too so I won’t bore you with that.

Despite all my happy pleasant thoughts, one thought managed to sneak up on me. One thought that just wouldn’t leave me alone. What if my parents were deciding to get a divorce after all? I remember that my body went all cold, almost numb all over, and ridged. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let them tear me in two. No matter how much they loved me I couldn’t let myself be destroyed for someone else’s gain. Kind of ironic looking back on it now.

I knew what I had to do. So, without waiting for Edric to come back (who by the way was sixteen) to tell me the horrid news I fled. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, but still remain quite and undetectable, to my room. My private room, whose doors had not been open to anyone since the age of six. For four years my room had been collecting weapons of mass destruction. To this day I can still remember all of my weapons sparkling in the little sunlight that shone through the curtains that were hung over my windows. Three of my walls were lined with old fashion swords, daggers, bows and arrows, crossbows, long swords, short swords, daggers, Japanese swords and spears.

Without pausing to think I grabbed two daggers that were decorated with a black gothic design on the sharp silver blade. I took two thigh sheaths and placed them where they were meant to sit. Once they were on I quickly shoved the daggers where they belonged and sat on my bed waiting patiently.

I suppose it was the longest and shortest wait of my entire life. For some reason it seemed as if they were talking to Edric for a very long time. Yet at the same time it seemed that all too soon I was being condemned to my inevitable death. I held my head high as I walked into the room where my parents waited for me. I had heard Edric leaving which meant that he had left to go stay at a friend’s house. I was all alone with my parents. It was just me and them.

If you have a weak stomach or do not want to find out just how horrible of I monster I am then stop reading NOW! If none of that bothers you, consider yourself warned.

Sure enough my instinct was correct. They told me all about their plans of divorce. I knew that if I didn’t let them finish, that if they never told me what they planned for me, then it would never happen. So without giving them warning I grabbed a dagger in either had, and without blinking I slid the cold hard unforgiving blades across their throats. The blood splattered everywhere, soaking me, them, the furniture walls and floor. That’s the good thing about being ambidextrous, you never have to worry about what hand to use. You just can use both without thinking.

I would love to tell you that I stopped there, realized what I had done, called the ambulance and everything was fine. I could do that, but that would be lying and it’s frowned upon in most societies. Instead I felt a release of power flowing through me. For the first time that I knew of, I was finally in control of the outcome. These two miserable people had caused me so much pain and suffering. They deserved to die a long, carried out, painful gruesome death. I would also like to say that after I slit there throats they were dead. Again that would be lying. I tried to keep them silent, in pain, on the floor but very much alive. Or else what kind of fun would that be?

People say that the eyes are a window into a person’s soul. By looking into a person’s eyes you can tell exactly what they are feeling at any moment. My eyes were once those of an innocent child. Happy and carefree with nothing to worry about. They now are burdened with the sin of the monster. That night my mother’s eyes were pleading -no begging- me to stop. Worst of all there wasn’t fear for her own life, but fear for what I was doing to mine.

Those eyes were so vivid; I knew that I could not let them keep staring at me for I would never be able to continue. But the feeling I had was so wonderful, no words could really hope to describe it and do it justice. So I reached out a stable hand and as careful as I could, I placed the tip of the tip of the dagger in the tear duct of her left eye. With one fluid motion I plunged the dagger deeper into the eye socket and proceeded to cut out her eye. Surprisingly it was simple. I could feel the eye come loose; become detached from the rest of her body.

My other hand sheathed the dagger and reached down to pull out the eye. It came out at once in one piece. As I gazed at it I felt sense of calm. It did not freak me out, and I did not scream. In fact I was quite uttering and making no sound. The eyeball intrigued me. To know that the human body could come apart so easily was amazing.

As I looked back at my pitiful mother I knew that I could not leave her that way. So again my hand reached down and the dagger cut through her soft flesh releasing the prize that was bound. It might horrify you to know that for the entire time my father was watching. So natural I felt that it was not right. After all I never said that he could. So I leaned over him smiled a sweet innocent smile and made my dear father blind.

The next piece I removed was their tongue so that they may never tell a word about this to anyone. Like I have stated many times before, this story would be lost if I did not decide it needed to be told. For I am the only one that truly knows everything that went on that night. The night the beast was unleashed for the first time. Not even Edric, who knows just about everything, knows the magnitude of the monster he created.

As I was about to finish, my eyes lingered across their ears. Of course they couldn’t see, or speak but they still could hear. I very well could not have that. With a quick fluid motion I chopped off their ears. For once in my life I was pleased.

I knelt in between the two bodies and started with my mother first. I carefully carved my name into her skin so that all would know who had taken her life. As beautiful and delicate as I could, I engraved my name for all to see and know. I then turned my body around so I was facing my father and I did the same thing to his body. All over I wrote the same word. The same three letter word. IRA.

For those of you who don’t know Ira is the sin of wrath in Latin. Though at the time I didn’t know what it was the word felt etched into my brain. And it just flowed out of me, almost as if I was watching me write it.

That is when I finally finished the job I had started. Only after my parents born my name did I kill them. I would like to tell you that I felt mercy for them and their death was swift, but it was not. Evangeline and Toby Martyn died of sever blood loss. And their only daughter wept no tears for them. That beautiful innocent girl no longer existed. She had been replaced by a monster so powerful it could only be called Ira.

That was the night when I first met Wrath. He came in not too long after my massacre took place. He was a striking man around twenty or so. I did not hear him enter, nor did I hear his footfalls as he approached. I was only made aware of his presence when he picked me up into his arms and cradled me.

He did not try to comfort me. Nor did he seem surprised at what I had done. Those are another set of words that I will never forget. No matter how long I may live for. I will always remember those words he spoke to me and the sound of his voice. His voice was not condescending, but it was not used to being kind or speaking to a child. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be vacant. Yes, it was an empty voice free of all emotion.

“You are so young. I was not expecting someone as young as you to be what I found. I came here to offer you the chance to take my place. Instead I simply cannot. It is not in my nature to be merciful, though I refuse to place this burden on someone as young as you. I will return when you are older, that is when I will tell you everything you need to know about what you are –have- become. It is truly amazing for someone at such a young age, like you, to have been brought to my attention. I will be back for you and your decision. But I leave you with this as parting words: could you ever take the life of another if they were willing?”

He put me down and I turned to face him. He was now covered in blood. The blood I had shed. My voice was surprisingly strong, as it did not crack, and as vacant as his had been. “You never told me your name.” I stated simply.

“My name,” he responded looking at me with dark, pitch black, cold unforgiving eyes, “is long forgotten but you may call me Wrath. It will be your name one day if you wish it.” With that he left before I could ask him what he had meant. He left the same way he came in trailing blood back with him. I suppose that him appearing is what saved me from anyone find out it was I who killed my parent.

Now do you understand why this story must never be told, yet I must write it down so it is never forgotten. It is the story of the monster that was unleashed and the decision I will have to live with my entire life. If given a choice to redo it I would never do anything differently. For, at the age of seventeen, I was turned into one of them, one of the sins. However killing the old sin did not make me who I am…committing that very deadly sin at the ages of four, six and ten did. For that is what I am, every moment of my life led up to it.

I am the sin of Wrath.

A/N: The second chapter should be up soon as it is roughly edited. The others will probably be posted in December when I have time to edit them as it is a NaNoWriMo novel and is unedited…and very bad (or so I think but I have been told it is quite good…)