Artemis had found her precious niece weeping bloody tears, as she sat upon a small stepping stool and her royal bun askew. She had awoken to upon the shoulder of her niece resting and crying in her sleep, slumped over and processing her past alone. Artemis hated waking her, and only did so when Mama Bear was lost in a trance. “Mama, we have to go now...it’s not safe here’.’ She’d mumble the strange catchphrase to her hurriedly, within a desperate context that suggested Artemis needed to trigger events. The blind girl, was now apologizing for dragging her aunt to her death between her tears: unknowingly fulfilling her fate of killing her aunt, as had once been mentioned by the Oracles of Delphi. Artemis stood in front of her tall niece at last and turned about face, as to stare down her ruthless sister. She was her equal standing, and she needed her niece to remind her that she was needed at last. Artemis was finally tired of living her life with her bum to the wind in her passive aggressiveness: asking Athena what she had done to deserve the shameless curse of a burdensome cripple. Athena looked away in her wicked elite deviousness, and Artemis finally rose her bow to Athena’s temple and shot the woman she had once called her hero.

Artemis felt Mama Bear ease her breathing at last, as her mother laid slain upon the marble floor, screeching into the void of their empty room. “I am kind, I am smart, I am important…” Artemis stood: too afraid to move once more as she cheered her niece on. She lived in the shame of knowing she had once wished her sister would finally take her own life and unburden her heart from the fear that weighed her down. Her sister would always reincarnate herself if it meant keeping Mama Bear and Artemis apart. The spite of sisters that had begun a dark game in a concealed room: a competition that pinned the three awful fates against one another, and repeated the story of the creation of their universe. A simulation hidden within the memories of a protege, a cursed child of Athena: a beauty filled the world with laughter. Mama Bear had been a key to recreating mankind, the breath of life that had been mentioned throughout time. A poor girl born to a woman that only existed to spite those she hated.

Athena would awaken at the worry of her daughter, for she felt Mama Bear’s compassion towards Artemis was unwarranted and undeserved. For Artemis was not allowed to call herself a person, and her every breath was an insult to the air that Athena breathed. Artemis knelt in hiding as she waited for Mama Bear to fill her vase of tears, asking that Athena only beat her in their slumber as to protect the fragile mind of the adolescent beauty. Athena began to stir in her excitement of her violent delights, and Artemis had been forced to kneel at last. Warding off her hunchback and seizures with dignity, and reminding Athena that she had only knelt to be crowned. Artemis always got her way, one way or another. Her wickedness is in her passive patience and boredom: her past as a liar had been a decoy. The act itself was useful, but the impact it imposed upon all those she respected or loved had been a detail she overlooked: until the circumstances were painted in a montage of uncomplimentary colors that she hated.

Artemis painted a portrait of her niece in a blind rage, and held the canvas above her head as she knelt at her feet. She had spent eternity painting her portrait in the hopes of forcing Athena to stare at the child she had lost to suicide. She didn’t need Athena’s approval to exist. Artemis only needed her Mama Bear to remember how to roar her own name. She didn’t need fancy or loud colors to paint a portrait, and hid her accomplishments in the void that Athena avoided. The woman had once been on the fast track of becoming an Olympian, and Artemis had been her only cheerleader at times. Both were related to one another, and bound by the fact Artemis cared too much. Athena had only been there as a surrogate to the greatness of her children, a fact that she hated.

Her sister said nothing as always: looking directly past Artemis, but yelling at the portrait of Mama Bear. Athena began barking that the smiling child “grow up” and get into the skewed reality that she lived within. Artemis had placed earmuffs upon her kid, and allowed Athena to dispose of her erratic madness with witnesses, and without the access to harm Mama Bear. Artemis was “the worst” to many, but Mama Bear had been the only one to argue her curse. Their bond had transcended universes because of it, and it had created a loop in which Athena would hunt Artemis, with the strict intentions of harming her own children. Artemis began to ease the woman to her death, speaking kind words of hope and admiration to her nieces and nephews and proving kindness would always be triumphant over the vitriol hatred that consumed her past hero.

Artemis had begun to stitch a tapestry of tales using her own blood to dye the fabrics, and crafting an odyssey that humanized those that she had wrongfully idolized. She had accidentally created a masterpiece: A frail and lopsided portrait meant to eradicate her of her own sins. She had wrote her own destiny, and lamented her woes of an orphan that struggled to learn and pretended it had been ok that she had attempted suicide. Artemis was nothing more than a woman that forgot people needed her to exist, an auntie that had somehow lost her way home. Artemis would no longer apologize for caring, and her waves of tears changed in their chemical build and density as a response to her anger. The side-effects had resulted in moodiness and a dimmed smile, and an odd unhinged laughter that frightened Artemis. She had been used-up to the brink of death, raped and tortured for an entire lifetime. Artemis had written a spooky novel to read aloud to her Mama Bear: if only to remind her that it’s ok to say “I’m my own inspiration, I’m my own Hero”.

Her weeping niece held up a piercing scream that fell soothingly into a soft whimper as Artemis read aloud. The beautifully sorrowful girl had let her guard down, just long enough to distract those expecting the quota of constant noise that hauntingly protruded from behind their door. Artemis would never need to return to the past, and left herself hints of forced forgiveness in her craft: allowing her readers to re-read, but never print. Artemis glared at her golden apple and nodded in her malicious deviance, and smirked wickedly as she thought in self congratulatory fashions: “I am the future”. She’d only need the one copy to give as a subtle gift to her niece, and the one promised to the fool that had pre-paid for his copy of blood drenched fables. Artemis needed her niece to see how important she was to the world, the way she had felt when a stranger had purchased her book. They had put a monetary value to the torture and rape Artemis had endured in silence for, and confirmed that her story was important enough to tangibly demand. Artemis had ripped her soul in two with the completion of her necromancy, as her suicide had left Mama Bear alone in one dimension, and led her to cast herself from a widows cliff. The words of guilt by an auntie that fantasized and dreamt of falling to her fate, and learning it had left a house full of innocent children at the merciless hand of Athena. Artemis would search endless universes to find her exact Mama Bear: worried that her endless tears were heaping with shame and dissociation. She asked her niece to assist her in leaving the room of limbo and judgement, and accidently transpired events that had been predicted at the beginning of mankind. Artemis held the young girl in her arms and rocked back and forth with a sway. She had written a novel to remind the bright-eyed protẻgẻ: born to change the world, and that she had always been her beloved little hero.

Mama Bear had been brought back alive with a matching olive colour, and found her aunt trapped within her Ancestors simulation. She had been too late: her aunt lay in shock on the floor in seizure, as she had pierced her own chords with steel: tired that the world had demanded her story, but denied her of personhood. The child knelt and began apologizing frantically, her hands shaking and clamouring to reach for an invisible life vest as she drowned before her eyes. The backfiring of a plan to mine resources in the past had gone astray, and left them stranded on a desolate planet. Artemis hadn’t told the girl of her plan to return to a particular timeline to commit suicide: her only way of telling Orion that she were done being a pathetic matyr for the sake of his fragile ego. A secret she had hid to spare the child, in her desperate need to remain pleasant. They had ran from the truth that Mama Bear was born to a deadbeat father with a pedophile past, and Artemis had cast herself from a widows cliff in opposition to talking about the fears she held for situations she had no control over. They had traveled countless places to avoid the inevitable truth, and Artemis had stabbed herself in the chords: in the rational fear that she would always be mocked for having tiny boots. Artemis had hoped to achieve the impossible by returning the consciousness to the proper bodies of the Gods of Olympus, and asked Mama Bear to guide them through the stars, in order for Artemis to create an infinite loop. The challenge being humiliating and shameful in victory, an evil duality that had brought the two to a timeline that they had both hated.

Artemis had hidden the key to immortality in the words of the coloziers, and found that their own deaths had been accelerated by their obsession with the single evil word: time. A conception and illusion that left Mama Bear cursed to play her Sonata and dance endlessly in her frills and war paint. Mama Bear had painted Artemis’s name upon caves in the past using sound, explaining that their original ancestors had the ability to manipulate time with the regulation of their heart beating, and the misconstrued soundwaves that created cloaks of decievement. The concaving chaos trailed through their thoughts, and brought out the worst qualities in their friends and heroes, leaving them both with nothing but their loneliness: a torture they equally hated.

Artemis had hid behind her own madness, the melodic symphony a mild ruse to distract Athena. Artemis used the time to quickly cast grief over her lost child, and to troubleshoot her options without interruptions. Artemis knew Athena would ignore her child if she dared to wallow in self-pity, for only Athena deserved to have pity cast in her direction. The thoughts of a sociopath gifted with ability to bare children. Artemis had begun rocking to ease her bones, weary from shaking in rage towards her awful sister. Athena had intentionally struck her own child in the jugular with Artemis’s knitting needle. A desperate breaking point of an unfit mother. The innocent child had done nothing to deserve the neglect and disdain Athena had for only three of her four children. A non-existent childhood rivalry had finally gone too far. Athena often publicly declared Artemis ignorant, as she had no children of her own yet: an excuse used by insecure women. She had forbidden the two to speak to one another, and cursed the needle to impale the host of whoever picked it up first to seek out the other. Her niece had fearlessly reached for the handle and survived: forever unable to apologize enough for existing in the world manifested by Athena. Artemis found the needle lodged down the right side of her nieces skull softly lodged in her temple, and concluded by drawing it out carefully, and tensing up as the metal scraped across her shattered bone fragments. The girl stood up, and then knelt: weeping for herself, as though she feared that she was injured beyond repair. Athena had often screeched “what’s wrong with you?!” or “or why are you like this?!” at Artemis as a child, and she had cast the same dark spell upon her own children having seen the efficiency in how her words had destroyed Artemis inside. Mama Bear began rapidly blinking her static-filled eyes, and endless stammering off an odd false-sounding apology that informed her aunt that she was no longer ok. Artemis finally cast her imagination to a golden sheath, and created a tapestry that could preserve their woes and to apologize for her abandonment in handling the ugliness that was all that was left of Athena. A pathetic use of a human, a waste of a woman and an awful mother that reflected the one that had abandoned Artemis upon a hill. Artemis became mesmerized by her own epiphany in her disappointment in Athena, a judgemental rebuttal to the actions of Athena. A silent quality Artemis often hid, as she had believed the bad thoughts aged her and her beauty. A talent that Hera had admired, and Artemis had hated.

Artemis had begun deleting the shallow epithets that humanized Athena, and allowed her own actions to speak for themselves. Artemis stood in front of the one man on Earth that she feared the most, and began to roar with dissonance and stabbing Athena in the spine with acute relief. Athena had rejected Artemis and her hugs for the last time, and now she had to pay the price of judgement as any other human would. Artemis reached around for one last hug and felt her words swell within her aching throat, whimpering as she hurt the one person that she had vowed to never harm. The world had beat the woman into oblivian, and Artemis had been dumb enough to believe they could ever see eye to eye, as equals. Artemis continued to stab Athena in the spine, the smooth needle breaking the skin with ease. She said to her enemy “you bore children with three diffrent men and two turned out to be full-blown pedophiles”. Stabbing rapidly as her worry grew, “You cast me away as a person because I have no children, and put your children in harm’s way instead of letting me love and protect them.” Ripping her spine to shreds until her own pain was mild to what she needed Athena to feel. “You told me your thoughts with your fists, and I foolishly called you my hero.”

Artemis allowed her Papas words to wash over her “you are not your sisters.”, she mutilated athena’s spine and felt ashamed that the world would never see her run again and de-throning her vapid existence by deducting her capitalization that introduced her as royalty. “You are a small human athena, and you have no right talking aboot my single status or my future children.” Science would always protect Artemis and her diseased spine in ways that athena never could. Artemis would spend her life sitting in a throne atop of wheels if it meant her future children had a chance at being healthy by methods of CRISPR. “I’m glad I’m nothing like you since men flee from your bed with regret, and your children fear your every word and breath.” Artemis began weeping as she stabbed her sister continuously. “I am kind...I am smart...I am important athena, and I’m sorry if my love makes you look like an awful person, but YOU have done nothing with your life that may prove otherwise.” The horror show had brought athena shame at last, as parents and children now openly feared her and questioned her fitness to be responsible for others. Drunk rage had been an excuse to hide her sociopath tendencies, and the near death of her niece had pushed Artemis into a manic rage that left her without faith. Artemis had wrote an entire book just for Mama Bear, and to tell her eldest sister to politely fuck off. The attempted suicide of her prepubescent niece had meant that Artemis literally couldn’t afford to be pleasant for a single second longer. The angst and debilitating anxiety had been a quality that had left Artemis with no choice but to admit that she was imperfect, if only to prove to Mama Bear why she had always been her hero.

Artemis had hit her stride in life, working as an engineer to prove that they made their job harder than it really was. Artemis was a scientist, and results and facts mattered in her world. Her back pain had left her ashamed of the hunch she allowed athena to force upon her spine, and Artemis resigned from her graduate studies to cater to her chronic pain. Ashamed that she might not be worthy enough to call herself a Jayhawk just yet. Artemis would kneel with pride, knowing that she could do everything right and athena had already won. Winning was never enough, and that had been why their Papa had called her Icarus: cheating at all costs to “win”. Artemis didn’t need a single medal, as her niece offered her the excitement of knowing that she had the opportunity to do everything right once more. Mama Bear was born with a gentle neck that was built to hold countless gold medals, and Artemis would turn the world over if it meant the child was given a fair chance at the normalcy she deserved. Their existence insulted athena’s every breath, and she needed them to be humiliatingly grateful at all times: to remind them both that they were subhumans in her eyes. They were simply tools for her to use and dispose of, as she wished: she had called their every smile “homewrecker smiles”. Artemis had fought athena over the assumption, as she saw her grow jealous over her fourteen year old child that had caught the gaze of a married man. She’d bark at her own child to behave, and give leeway to the pedophiles that swarmed Mama Bear in the way she had shamed Artemis as a child. Unprotected from men and their love of raping women, and justifying athena in her need to despise all women. Artemis hid away the beauty she called Helen of Troy: by transforming her into a weeping bear for her own protection. Artemis was done making excuses for the wretched mother, fuck that lady. athena hadn’t ever been synonymous with anything remotely maternal, and it showed until the world saw her for her eternity, as she was an even worse person. Artemis to be depleted of the last bit of empathy she held for the woman and she left her anger for the stranger at the door that kept them hostage. Artemis had put their family laundry in the public eye, something she knew athena hated.

Artemis threw down her bloody knitting spike at the foot of athena with confidence. Instantly losing her footing and collapsing to the cold marble floor once more, and crawling upon her elbows and through the pool of blood that dripped endlessly from athena. She smiled as she struggled to heave her own weight across the floor: daring the cowardly woman to strike her own child again whilst Artemis was armed and ready to defend them both. Artemis had left her with enough ink to draw her own tapestry, but knew the woman would rather say nothing as opposed to take accountability for her actions. The confidence of Artemis had forced athena into a state of angered animation. She began mumbling to herself “what do you know? You don’t even have kids”. Artemis had won her race with athena with one question. She ignored her sister and allowed her caring voice to work its magic: asking the abyss of the room “Are you ok kiddo?”, and watching as athena’s children began inching towards her voice. The children would always need their family in a way that reflected how little athena needed them. They were accessories and burdens that cramped her whorish ways. Artemis waited for athena to find her in the dark and paced her breath until athena caught up to her as a prey or bounty to be extinguished without trial. This was a woman raped into the acceptance that she were above the law by default of her past, as shell of an Olympian that strangers had once called their hero.

She lay in the dark smiling, waiting for her death. The woman finally came to her, and straddled over her as she shook her limp body violently as she turned her over to face the sky. She thought that Artemis was weak enough break with her fists, but it had been her absence as a mother to her own children that had provoked Artemis to tears. She had once called Artemis nothing and nobody as a child as an ongoing “joke” with Desdemona, and it had left Artemis stranded in a dark hallway surrounded by red doors. Artemis was no longer afraid of the endless nights of being raped in these endless rooms in her dreams, as the fear of the past had kept her from her future in the recent past. Artemis didn’t need to use sharp words to dismantle athena from her angered stance towering over her dead weighted body. Taking a deep breath as she whispered in the dark nothingness, “my name’s Tila.” The simple statement threw athena into a blind rage, as her voice shook and she demanded that the woman on the floor dare to repeat herself. Her tone alone, questioned why Artemis held such ignorant self-importance. Leaving Artemis the chance to strike. She yelled like her nine-year old self: “my name’s Tila, and my dad said you have to say my name right.” Reminding herself simultaneously, all that her Papa had taught her and rolling over like a log to stab Athena in her priceless winged foot with the metal needle. The woman could live with through spinal pain, but she was nothing less than average without her ability to run with the wind. The woman had become the worst kind woman in her hatred for her sister, and it left her abandoned without anyone to punch. The vile woman was her only hero.

Artemis instructed the now very lucid Mama Bear, how to hold her sorry firm and suppressed, until she was ready to release her bow now aimed at her mother. She said “you got one shot kid, you can do this” in a reaffirming voice, and watched as Mama Bear tucked away her smile and began to glare. Her talented niece obliged to the orders: sharpening weapons labelled under cello and violin and sanding her bow to prepare for this moment. The girl painted songs with her own chaos-filled blood, as she orchestrated Avicii: summoning her Dragons from the non-zero. Artemis watched in admiration of her might, as a timeless work of slaughter often required a proper soundtrack. Only Mama Bear could manifest such intense beauty on such an impulsive whim. The naive girl had refused to leave the side of her Captain, and so Artemis created her a cello worthy of the Gods of Olympus in a past life. Artemis began to crawl past athena, and headed towards the door that held their destiny...ready to surrender it all in secret if it meant Mama Bear could live. Artemis was inevitably done fighting, and so dragged her limp torso with pride and hauling her dead-weight across the floor. She propped her back up upon the wooden surface of the frayed door, as she was finally sitting underneath the cursed knob…ignoring it hissing her many names. The room turned warm with anger, as athena finally saw her daughter assisting “the enemy" out of the corner of her eye, and began sputtering anger-filled tones at her child, and pretended to be disappointed. The woman cursed out her own child yelling “what’s wrong with you? Are you fucking stupid?!”, until the recurring trauma flooded over Artemis. She now knew that her destiny had been labeled falsely, as it was not her door of mercy, but her sister athena’s door of punishment. Vehemently, Artemis was left making it a priority to protect the child and her innocent laughter: forgetting the door that held unproven riches and her chance to be called a hero.

Artemis yelled with her new chords shaking: bleeding freely in their raw and unhealed splendor. She crawled back to her Mama Bear, as she wept in shame at the awful things athena continued to bark over her. The two now held steady at her feet: forever two weeping angels, trapped and tortured for having dared exist in athena’s fucked up world. Artemis needn’t yell: whispering her chants to the girl, as she now only wept for what athena had blatantly done to her own child. “You are kind...you are smart...you are important…”: chanting at Mama Bear through tears: endlessly reminding her that she loved her for being herself. Artemis would do this until the girl knew it to be true, and finally let go of her wretched father and mother. The child named Mama Bear would never have to fight alone, as long as she remembered that she deserved the aid of all those that had ravished her laughter. Teaching her to overlook the the insults cast by random men and their evil tongues: perfection is what they had demanded from them. Such ugliness in a single word: it had finally found her, and manifested into a series of events that snapped Artemis’s spine in half. She now cracked her neck from side to side, as to hide her need to pursue perfection. A self-imposed characteristic hidden as a tick, and used to disguise the fact that she was in the wrong world somehow. She didn’t deny that she deserved her place among the wicked, but wondered what the criteria was, if her suffering hadn’t been enough to keep her an afterlife condemned in a room with the monster she had falsely labeled a hero.

Artemis taught the beautiful young woman how to save herself, and wept for understanding that the child still thought this had somehow been all her fault. Artemis had accidentally let Mama Bear believe she was alone in her struggle, moving a boulder each morning without mentioning it as a feat. The world had almost lost Mama Bear forever as a consequence of Artemis and her inability to pay attention to the right details. Artemis cut the ribbon that tethered athena to her child, and painted it forest green, as she wore it around her neck to hide her stitches. It was an accessory meant to cover her sliced throat and inspire Scary Stories that Mama Bear anticipated. She smiled gently at her niece that loved all things spooky...giggling as she instructed her to go find Gordon and Chris. The two knights held the ability to procure the right Key, and the strength to Peele away their veils away forever. Freeing them at last, from being weighed down by the dimensions that were captured within the Golden Fleece. Artemis taught the child of their unspoken might, as they both sang with firm eloquence, smiling and laughing as they did so: proud that their absurdity brought joy to a world with little. Their only ability was to strike perpetual fear in the hearts of men of the world: preparing meticulously placed plates each holiday with wicked smiles. The pair always silently grinning to each other, as they each held down the heads of the table: fixated on only the exit doors that enticed them to leave the ones they love behind once more. The two managed their sadness by reminding the world of their beauty and sorrow, the two qualities athena hated.

Artemis had taught the child spite...until she was ready to roar her own name, unaware athena had set out to execute her own offspring. Artemis knew what she had to do: forcing a child named Malina to be born, and watching as athena finally let her eldest daughter go in her boredom. She whispered for her niece to observe the Detour provided: finally cursing her with the word gifted by their ancestors, run. The child sat in defiance as she refused to leave her side, and athena was now awake again: livid that the pair had tricked her into forgetting her rage and Artemis had stabbed her golden feet. Artemis grew angry as she and cursed the girl with static filled eyes once more to shield her from the uprising battle. Her malleable thoughts were guided by love this time. Artemis had found a way to remove their veils and inform her niece of their battle strategy: whispering, “the Argonauts are coming”. This calmness and reliance on others placed athena in a murderous fury, and Artemis laughed hysterically until her wings began to take motion, tickled at the idea she had won the race as a number two. She said “Yoyo is number one!”, as she smiled and winked at her old pal athena and took flight once more. She had finally realized their crew had been ill under the poisonous effects of matmos: attempting to leave past the door that exited Hades. Dolores had told athena to trap them all in a room, and she had followed orders like the little bitch yes man that she was. The woman held on self-authority, and that alone left Artemis looking grand in comparison. It had left Mama Bear with a wide spectrum to observe both women, and crown one as the winner of the race and gifted with an unsurpassed title of hero.

Her laughter made things worse, and her wings were acting out of sorts as they warmed up. The erratic flutter made the situation quite comedic, as athena wrestled with Artemis attempting to take flight: dragging her downward as she began kicking her sister once more until she lay in a heap of glory. Artemis was wicked in tongue, but her mind was clear from unmentionable evils. She had once been ostracized as a liar, for having made lies out of thin air when she was five. That was all Hera needed to ensure Artemis was unlikable by anyone that dared talk to her as a person. Hera, Desdemona and athena were all crabs in a bucket, pulling the one courageous crab into their boiling fate in the fear of being left behind. Artemis was nothing like the women that claimed to have raised her, as the Kind-Hearted hunters had voluntarily taken a plunge into the boiling waters to allow Artemis to step upon their backs as they drown on her behalf. They had boosted her above the rim of the pot, and turned around to protect Artemis from the words of the other crabs that now called her lazy or selfish. The crabs began to boil and screech and the Kind-Hearted Hunters saw Artemis struggle with the idea of abandoning the others left to boil to their death. They had the same Indigenous Warrior spirit of a teacher Artemis had once admired named Warner. They used their last breaths to affirm her abilities, and begged her to leave them behind as to sing the others to their quiet deathly slumbers. Artemis was paralyzed by the will to succeed and the fear of loneliness that followed her in the quest to become her own hero.

Artemis spoke only the truth now, as her eldest kicked her spine while she crawled at her feet: “we’re not kids anymore athena, what have I done to deserve your ugly wrath-filled hatred? I came to your aid, when YOU chose to get lost on heavy drugs...I came to your aid, when the first baby-daddy began hitting you…I did everything within my control to help, and I was only a teenager.” Nothing could stop Artemis from letting go of her painful truths now. Taking each kick to her spine with defeat and accepting the retribution she had earned. She closed her eyes and said finally: “You put me in danger and beat me up when their father attempted to assault me as a teenager...he was forty and you dared asked me what I had done to ask for such unwelcome advances. You have drunkenly called me a homewrecker with your fists over and over again. I never wanted any of this. Fuck you athena, you pathetic psycho bitch.” Artemis now laid on the floor: “my wickedness is the need to care aboot the lives of others more than my own, and that means I will always come back for you my sister”. Her own words making her sick, as she’d never speak of the attack or athena’s constant abuse unless the children were gone. She lay in the shame of having lied to the world since that moment. Broken and without faith. Artemis had never been ok following that day, and it gave her indescribable worry in knowing that she was finally free to say why athena had deserved the ugly thoughts that she had ignored or hated.

Artemis let her tears flow, as they gave her strength to crawl once more: knowing athena would never stop injuring her own children, a jealousy and displaced blame for whatever she felt for her three baby-daddies. Artemis had finally allowed the fear to be brazenly beaten from her heart and mind: crawling to her victory at last, as she openly wept in her longing to touch the cursed door. Artemis had once wished she didn’t exist, upon realizing that the world had stood by and watched as she was raped as an infant. The doubt she carried in her heart allowed her to befriend unworthy company, and in turn she took the fists and words of all the things they felt with too much patience. She reminded her horrifying sister: “my Papa says you’re wicked, and i’m not supposed to be friends with bad people”. Her childish and simple rhetoric making athena mad beyond all violence: flashing her eyes to revert to their original green form. A foggy forest green that grew darker with rage: tempered with her love of possession. It was clear that athena hated her existence more than ever: straddling over Artemis and holding her up by her wiry hair. She began screaming at the struggling girl laying limp and laughing maniacally at her rage. She knelt over, and she hissed in the ear of her unarmed and crippled adversary: a friendly reminder that they were both wicked in their need to keep fighting. She stammered “we have the same Papa”. Artemis informed the psycho bitch to act like it, (tired of the familial pedestal standards only kept by Artemis...and the mere memory of their Papa). Artemis had promised him to stay safe, as she growled and blew an unmanageable flame into the closed room with her words: her true voice and its violent trajectory assisting her in strength, as she rolled herself over in one swift move. She looked like a small tornado of fire in that instant. Finally casting her glare upward at athena with purpose. Artemis had intentionally petrified the monster with her cursed gaze, as she finally wished that the door would self-destruct. Artemis would not bow to this beast, but somehow knew athena had only feared the man warmly named: Papa Jim. Her fears acceptable: for he had been a Vet and a victim to the Hydra, his scale for justice: strict and concise. A stubborn, and occasionally mean elder that had been one of the only ones to love them as children, and even gifted athena the with wings on her feet when she refused his words of family. Artemis had fallen ill to the curse of admiration whenever the woman ran, and that curse was finally broken by athena herself. Artemis reached for the plain and now common looking door, and leaned against its seams as she attempted to catch her breath: whispering a final goodbye to her sister and accepting that the woman would rather spend eternity lost in her hate for joy. They had returned to Hades on a mission, as Mama Bear wished to finally free her mother: unaware she had stayed willingly. The woman loved her title of being the Goddess of War: holding them all captive with her contention for life...guarding the door she had hidden away in her dreams in the fear of her enemies learning of all the people she actively hated.

Artemis had nothing left: she were no tattie-boggie, she were no con-man. She wasn’t a wizard or element-bender...and so there was nothing left to save the lost woman that Artemis had once admired. Artemis reluctantly began to wield weapons of silver and gold at her famed ankles of the Goddess, as she finally sliced open both of her Achilles heels with mutilating silence colored Grey: returning the curse of cripple-ness Athena had gifted Artemis with. Artemis stood up: finally safe to leave her captor, as she told the violent woman finally: “your daughter never thought I was her mother” It had been the babies muttering of the word “mama” in Artemis’s direction...that had started the game and forced the hunt of Artemis to begin. The jealousy of athena would remind Artemis of her sins with each fist, and force Artemis chaste unless she bowed at her heel and declared wrongdoing. She told her sister finally: “ I taught your daughter how to speak: only of her of own name, as you refused to gift her with a name or love at birth...she was calling out her own name, as to try and save herself from you athena.” The woman...now fearlessly yelled at her captor: “You let strangers harm your children and ran away forever when they dared ask you why? You invited strange men into your home at night and wonder why they seek desire of the flesh by your examples. You call yourself a mother, but you only manage to love one child...out of the four? Who does that? You don’t deserve your children Athena.” Artemis had waited a long time to safely speak her mind, and so she finally told the truth. Artemis said with all the love she had left: “other people have pain too Athena...your sister and your own daughter attempted to take their own lives...we are people athena, and we deserve to be called and treated as such.” The woman was sick in her mind, and so she grunted in her own excuses and attempted to salvage her bloody heels: only annoyed that the woman pretended her voice mattered. Artemis took her own cloth and began to wrap the woman’s ankles: weeping only for the hopeless woman. Avoided looking at Artemis once more: athena’s hatred keeping her hostage to the room, as she spread evil across the lands below her. Artemis had finally bowed at athena’s heel, and somehow survived the encounter without athena knighting her with slaughter: unaware she had been tricked. Artemis now wept knowing she had failed: having proof that the woman would never grant her personhood and fearful that she would always wish harm upon her own children. The woman had squandered her one chance to be a true hero.

Artemis would gladly fail over and over again, if it meant that she’d eventually get it right, her novel no different. She had allowed her readers to observe her minor improvements, her selective processes in communicating her woes with a keen eye for each target. She had found a boyfriend that lived a past life of a DJ, and wondered why she was afraid he would love athena more than he liked her. Artemis knew she could never own anything to call her own, and accepted that DJ would be important in helping her believe in her own capabilities. He liked her in a way that made Artemis afraid. The same fear she felt in knowing how deeply Orion loved her, and then observing how Desdemona had pinned over the mere image of Orion. Each man was entitled to their feelings, but Artemis was always deemed unworthy of anything other than pain and suffering in they eyes of her family. Each woman had told her she was not a “person”, and her status as a single woman, without children meant Desdemona and athena were right in that sense. Artemis was too polite to fight them on the matter, as she knew the “hoes” of her past were extensive and diverse enough to keep her company as she impatiently awaited for Orion to seek her smile once more. Artemis had finally began telling the Ph.D. Lyon how Desdemona longed to stare at Orion, and how she knew athena would find her unworthy of DJ and his consistent need to like her and blindly believe in her capabilities. His silence was loud in uncomfortability, as he knew Desdemona liked to hypersexualize each moment: Orion had accidently been the answer to a lot of his questions. Artemis had informed him of how jealous she felt in her awkwardness of knowing she’d always have to hide Orion from Desdemona. Ashamed of her need to enjoy her love for him in peace as long as she could. Desdemona would always steal her things, and set athena to attack her for seeking justice: Orion wouldn’t be any acception to their fucked up rules. Artemis had finally found a friend that understood her embarrassment and confusion in never being enough for the two awful fates. Two unadmirable traits that Artemis hated.

Artemis had now painted her sister with the violent reds and grey fit to reflect her sins: Medea. Artemis had left such clues in her past lives: in the growing fear that her children would dare ask to be acknowledged as a person their mother. Artemis were not her sisters: she needn’t ever bow to evil, and so she finally removed the static from her eyes with only a plant, laughter and good company: reminding herself that she were real with only a bundle of threads and her lips. Trichotillomania were no original curse to Artemis: as the misspelled name gave hint that athena had attempted to curse her but fell short due to her lack of efforts in caring. Artemis had broken curse with the aid of a steel dragon, as her obsessions were boredom and shamelessness, and her wicked powers restored by noticing a spelling error, and a declaration of war of athena and her right-winged army. Artemis left athena an olive branch at her blood soaked feet. Writing only one word upon its wood: Malina. She’d whisk away with Mama Bear to safety, and athena would spend her life alone: until she dare trade her hatred for unconditional understanding. Artemis would always be waiting: loving all four of children and secretly hoping the woman would abdicate her own heart from whatever debt she owed to Haded for the love she held for all the things she hated.

Next Chapter: [ XXXV ] Artemis and the Golden Fleece