|Queen of the Dead
Author: Life-of-Rogue PM
Hello I am Artemis Fray. I am obsessed with death. I am a moon goddess. And I’m dying. Come and watch. Come and watch me die. The show is 7 dollars admission. I hope you enjoy it.Rated: Fiction M - English - Drama/Mystery - Chapters: 2 - Words: 4,142 - Reviews: 2 - Updated: 04-30-11 - Published: 03-04-11 - id: 2896349
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Okay readers reading. This is where you meet the main character. It's really just her thoughts while she gets ready to move. Further into the story you'll see how she is related to the gangs. Everything's connected. Remember that for the future k? Also if you don't know Greek mythology Artemis is the Greek goddess of the moon. Enjoy
Disclaimers: I OWN EVERYHING MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!
My name is Artemis Fray. Yeah I know, Artemis? Before you ask, my dad was a Greek mythology college professor. Yeah was, he gave up his job to move in with his girlfriend. In Maine, bringing me with him. We're moving from New York City, New York to nowhere Maine.
Fuck my life. That was the first thought that entered my head, when he first told me that he were moving. I mean, I know that bad shit happens here. We're in New York for Christ's sake! Queen's territory, I know, not the safest way to be. It's the year 2026 and war has been raging since before I was born. I don't remember a time when we weren't at war.
But this isn't like any other war we've been in. The Korean War, WWI, WWII, and every other fucking war we've been in. This is an all out war from the inside. A gang war. The Queen's Court and the Slayers. The Queen and her men steal art masterpieces, gold, anything worth millions of dollars, and sell it on the black market.
But the Slayers? They sell and deal drugs, woman, and guns. Lots and lots of guns. They give them to bad people that do really fucked up things.
The two are rival gangs. They hate each other with such a passion that they will do anything to kill each other. So much hate, that complete genocide has been talked about. They have been at war for years. They both kill and torture each other, and anyone that gets in their way.
My dad tells me about the time when there wasn't war. I mean the world wasn't all butterflies and rainbows, but better than complete war. Yeah, it's like a secret World War III. They have gang territories all over the world, not just America. The war started – well, 'evolved' is a better word – from the drug cartels in Mexico. Although violence between drug cartels had been occurring back then for a while, the Mexican government held a generally passive stance regarding cartel violence through the 1980s and early 2000s.
That changed on December 11, 2006, when the newly elected President Felipe Calderón sent 6,500 Mexican Army soldiers to the state of Michoacán to end drug violence there. This was recorded as the first major retaliation made against the cartel violence, and is generally viewed as the starting point of the Mexican Drug War between the government and the drug cartels, which is really the beginning of our war. You follow? I don't know how it became a worldwide thing, but that's how it started. They became divided into two main gangs, the Slayers and the Queen's Court.
My mother was a detective – a policewoman of sorts. I didn't really know the details. But I know she was investigating the Queen. The Queen of the Dead, the leader of the Court. Don't get me wrong, the Queen's Court are bad people who will steal anything, but they only want money. I think the gang that sells women and drugs would be the first gang to try and take down. Most of the police everywhere are bought, or spies for the gang anyway.
But not my mother. She was true, fighting for justice, trying to get rid of the gangs, instead of working for them. But that's what got her killed. She was gunned down on her drive home. One shot to her head, that's all it took for me and my dad's world to fall apart. My mother was my idol. I looked up to her, she was my role model. I was always a mommy's girl.
But she must have been onto something because she was killed. Not years ago, not even a year ago. Six months ago. Six months since my mother died – wait, no – she didn't just die – she was murdered. She was stolen from me. My father and I had completely different ways of dealing with her death. I became clinically depressed. I quit everything. I quit track, drama, and pretty much life. I quit life. I wanted it to be like a video game, so when I died everything would go back to the beginning. But life's not a video game. If I died, she wouldn't be at the beginning with me; I'd be at the end alone.
My father wasn't helping by drowning his sorrows in alcohol and his plethora of girlfriends that he uses for sex. Way to go dad! Mom would be so proud, I'm sure. But that would make me a hypocrite though. Even though I had a depression, I didn't dye my hair, get piercing, or start wearing all black you stereotypical motherfuckers. I started to cut myself, have suicidal thoughts, and shit like that. And guess what good 'ole dad did to help? He got therapist's to shove pills down my throat and tell them how I feel. Well I want to gouge out your eyes. How about you write that down on your clipboard? I'm sure mom would be so proud of me too.
Then my dad started dating Jenna. She was everything my mother wasn't. Short, petite, and weak. Well weak against my father apparently. She was a blonde religious freak. And she wasn't just a fuck to him, because she stuck around for more than a week. She is a major bitch to me. Says my father pays to much attention to his little whore of a daughter. I hope he breaks her in fucking half. Always going on about God and how people who commit suicide go to hell.
Of course my father ignores her verbal abuse towards me. He now has pretty much become a shell of his former self. I loved my dad, but that thing sitting on the couch, isn't' my dad. I think my dad died a long time ago. He just stopped trying to be a family, he stopped loving me. Jenna with her blonde bob, raccoon eyes, and cracked pink lips is the fucking devil.
I didn't really give a fuck what she or anybody else thought of me. But she convinced my dad to move. Her reasons? I didn't have any friends that I'd miss, my dad hates working, and her house is bigger and in Slayer territory. Complete bullshit. I wanted to stay here. I pull a batman everyday. I would go to the street to where my mother was shot. I tried and tried to greave, mourn her healthily. I tried to let her go, but I couldn't. And I am afraid that if we leave, I will forget her.
Maybe to you that's not so bad, but my memories of the past are all I have. The present is painful, and the future doesn't look too good either. Our pasts define who we are today, so if I lose mine, who will be? Not Artemis Fray, that's for sure. I begged my father to stay; I tried promises, deals, and compromises. Nothing worked, he barely blinked at my words, like he was wondering why I was talking at all.
So my father sentenced me to death row. I feel like anything I say won't be heard. Like I could scream at the world, and nobody would care. I want to live again, but I'm drowning. I'm drowning for the world, and you're all watching. It's a show. The farther I sink the more applause I get. Once I hit the bottom I'll get a standing ovation.
Maybe someone from the audience will come and save me. Or maybe they'll laugh and call it a comedy. You can't count on anybody; you need to trust yourself to survive. To bad I don't trust anybody, let alone myself. But who cares right? Everyone you know will die. I don't mean to be morbid, just realistic. At some point in your life people you know will die. It doesn't have to be tomorrow or the day after that, or in ten years. But it will happen, because nobody lives forever. The only exception to this is if you die first. If you die first, you don't have to watch everyone around you die because you're already dead.
I've thought of suicide before, but could never do it. Just thought of it. I mean if you were going to kill yourself how would you do it? No I'm serious, how would you do it? How you do it tells a lot about you. Are you going to use pills, guns, knives, gas, poison, or hang yourself? I'd drown myself. Big surprise right? It's not like I was metaphorically talking about how I'm drowning in my life a few lines up right? Yeah.
My friends told me that I was obsessed with death. So in return I told them at least I'm "obsessed" with something that matters, something that's real and not something like prom or Justin Bieber. This is why I have no friends. I hate everyone. Life sucks and then you die. I'm not sure who said that, but it's true. So God damn true. Go ahead read it again, wait wait here let me write it again. Life sucks and then you die. When I first saw this, I laughed. But read it, truly and honestly read it. Life does suck and then you do die. It's inevitable. We are all going to die.
I think I have based my life on that saying. But what happens after you die? Heaven maybe Hell? No way. I don't believe in Jenna's or anybody else's God. That "everything happens for a reason" shit, is the most fucked up thing on the planet. I mean it, I really do.
If everything happens for a reason why do people kill other people for paper? Why do people get abused, feeling useless and unloved their whole lives? Why do little girls get sold for sex? The Holocaust? Why do people need to make fun of others to make themselves feel good? Why do people get tortured by the gangs? Torture, as in people sticking needles in your eyes, taking a pair of rusting scissors and cutting your tongue off, cutting open your head and pouring acid in your brain, jamming a knife up your pussy, or getting your dick sawed off. Why do people do things like that and enjoy it?
Why, why, why, why, why, why, why? I could go on, and on asking question with no answers.
Jenna has a simply answer, they have to deserve it because it's God will. We answer to God. And he answers to no one. How fucked up is that? Sexually abused kids that get raped by their own parents deserve it? No way. No fucking way. Go shove your fucking beliefs about life and your God in a corpse, until it rots away with the body that deserved to die bitch.
And then there's the fact that my mother was killed for trying to stop the gang war that terrorizing the planet. If that's God and his plan, you can count me out because God sounds like a crazy motherfucker that wants to kill everyone he has ever created.
Sometimes I want to die, just to see what happens. To see where you go after life. Is there a trial in a white room, filled with ghosts? With God being the judge, to decide if you belong in Heaven or Hell? If that's true I'd show God my favorite finger and tell him to go fuck himself.
I guess I really am obsessed with death. What kind of normal seventeen year girl thinks about this? I am alone and I'm scared. Not of death, not torture, not even the end. I'm scared of myself. I'm scared of me. Should I die to save me from myself? Maybe I should die to protect you people from me. How does that sound? I sound like a hero instead of a depressed, death obsessed freak. I wanna die to live again. If you don't understand that, it's ok, I don't understand me either.
I've never been in love. Sure I've dated a few guys, stolen some kisses, but never been in love. I've been told I'm hot, but beautiful? Never. I am torn when it comes to love. I want to believe there's such a thing a soul mates. Someone who is perfect for you in every way. But there are 204 countries in the world, who is to say I'd meet him? And if you do meet your soul mate, and they are the one you're supposed to be with, what happens if they die?
There's love, there's in love, and then there's true love. I think most people are just in love. That's not at all a bad thing! I mean, if you find someone that loves you when you feel like shit, act like an ass, lie, cheat, and loves you for you, that is an amazing thing.
But if that person died, you'd mourn for an appropriate amount of time, and then maybe find someone else. Date a little. Might fall in love again. Remarry, and be happy and in love. That's what in love is.
True love is that if that person died, you'd never ever love again, and might possibly commit suicide, to at least try and be together again. That's what true love is. Both are beautiful things, but being in love will hurt, while true love will kill you because it consumes you.
I never want to fall into love. Either of them. I have nothing left to give. And besides, in order to love and care for somebody, you have to love and care for yourself first. I hate me, and I have scars on my skin. No one can love me, not even myself.
I am a depressed girl who's been sentences to death by her own family. I'm alone, all the God damned time. My black heart is enclosed with a cage, with the key buried in my head to keep anyone from entering. My soul is made of ice. No one can break me because I'm already broken. Tears and blood are what the world is made of. I don't breathe air, I drink it. I drink it and choke.
Nothing scares me because I can't feel. I can't feel your words in my ears, your touch on my skin, or your kisses in my lips. I am a demon from Hell and an angel from Heaven. God can't judge me.
Scream me a love song. Please. I want to live. I want to love. But I can't because I'm a broken clock. My memories are me. Take those away, and what do I become? Who do I become? I'm asking you because I don't have to answers. Tell me. Break me. Fix me. Hate me. Love me. Transform me.
I need to die to live. I need to die to live. I need to die to live. I need to die to live. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. How long until I'm happy again? I want to be obsessed with life not death. Control me. Kill me. Drown me. Save me.
What is life?
Life - –noun
the condition that distinguishes organisms from inorganic objects and dead organisms, being manifested by growth through metabolism, reproduction, and the power of adaptation to environment through changes originating internally
Life - adjective
for or lasting a lifetime; lifelong
get a life, to improve the quality of one's social and professional life: often used in the imperative to express impatience with someone's behavior.
Can you tell me what living is now? I gave you the dictionary's definition of life. So tell me how to live. How to love. How to teach. How to create. How to imagine. You have to tell me your secrets on how to survive here. Because I can't. I'm dying and there's no cure. I'm killing me, you're killing me, and the world's killing me. And everyone is watching it. Enjoying it.
Hello I am Artemis Fray. I am obsessed with death. I am a moon goddess. And I'm dying. Come and watch. Come and watch me die. The show is $7 admission. I hope you enjoy it.
Oooooohh pretty deathly right? She has such a different prospective. Next chapter they will have already moved and Artemis will have school. Fun fun. Review?