I have spent millennia among mortals, experiencing the changes that shaped the world, becoming more and more jaded and bitter. The hubris, the evil, and the depravities of gods and man alike are a constant rush of noise in my head, the taste of it filling my mouth. The façade of care that most build around their true natures is a reality that I can never escape. My reality. I moved through the sludge of humanity and gods, my every touch eliciting a reaction of justice. I was born to be the harbinger of justice, karma on steroids, and there was no escaping the truth of my nature.
So here I am, at one of my many places of employment, the lights flashing, the steady thrum of the music throbbing through my body, the feel of the pole slick and cool against my hand and leg as I spin, hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm. The thoughts of the men and the few women in the room filtering through my mind. It may look as if I am the vulnerable one in this situation, nearly naked and dancing on a pole, glitter sparkling on my skin, such a cliche. The mortals think the swirl of silver in my eyes is just a trick of the light as my power flares throughout the room. I do assure you though, that I am the hunter in the room.
Today had been one of brutality, and experience has taught me that I will never be able to remove the images that now linger in my mind. I try to use the music to keep them at bay, but as always, those that involve the young and innocent are the hardest to ignore. Maybe I will take a break after tonight. Maybe I will hole up in that obscene tower that Zeus has claimed. I do have an entire floor all to myself and Moxie had been flitting around it the other day. Knowing her, it is all decked out and nice and cozy and fresh and…clean. She is good at knowing what someone needs.
My mind only half on the dance, I slide against the pole as I would a lover. The smooth metal now warmed by my heat, aware of the hunger and the lust in the room pervading the space. The feel of it is heavy against my skin like a hot southern summer night. And then there it is, evil slinking through the door. I had been waiting for this and yet my body still reacted, goosebumps forming on my skin and my nostrils flaring with a scent that was not actually there. I have felt darkness before; darkness is not something I fear. I was born from it and into it. Yet this was altogether something different. This was something so corrupt and so evil that I had no name to lend to it. Tempted to call it creature, I resist, knowing that is just simply a visceral reaction to distance myself from what I know to be truth: that a being this twisted and without any redeeming quality had its origins within the gods…within humanity.
I let my head fall back, my eyes focusing on the door as the aberration fills its frame. There he is. My mind flashes to the courtroom, the sly twist of his lips, nearly hidden behind the hand that he rests against his chin. The image of the young girl nearly curled into herself as she stammers and shifts in her seat, trying to recount her experiences at the hands of this man. Claiming that the twenty days she had been within his household, she had experienced the things of nightmares. This man…this thing was charged with the protection and care of some of the most vulnerable and lost. Thinking his pristine record an upstanding married man, a college professor and a foster parent is enough of a ruse that no one will look any further. He thinks that his reputation within society will protect him, his cruel words of her being “troubled and prone to making up stories about those around her…seeking attention from adults” will sway the thoughts of those sitting in judgment of him. Will protect him from any and all repercussions. And in most cases, he would be right. Unfortunate for him that I was in that courtroom. Unfortunate for him that I see the truth of him.
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