A World Without Power ⊹ kotlc

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𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶: 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓯𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓷

I never asked for a crown on my head.

It doesn't mean anything, really, just a symbol to paint a pretty picture of our perfect little family. That's what she's always wanted, I guess. For everything to be perfect. And power. So much power. Sometimes I wonder if young me—seven or eight maybe—could ever imagine in his wildest dreams, for all his hatred toward his parents, a future like this. But it's not the future anymore. It's the present. And I don't get to escape.

It's been a long time since Sophie died. I don't know how long. I think I'm an adult now. It used to bother me—you know, that I never got the chance to tell her how I feel. I don't think about it anymore. I think maybe I've started to become immune to emotion entirely. It reminds me of how Vespera was, before she hit the guillotine along with Dear Old Dad (all the rumors you've heard aren't true, by the way; he's been buried and everything). Empathy overload, and now all I can really feel is the feelings of everyone else. It's not just Sophie, everyone I loved is gone now. I mean, maybe not all of them, but it feels like it. I went to some of their executions (not that I had a choice). I remember some of them. Biana. The Song twins. Mr. Forkle. It's better the less I remember.

Sometimes I still see her in my dreams. Sophie, I mean. Not so much anymore, but I do dream of memories occasionally. Usually it means she's trying to tell me something. Or my subconscious is, I guess. I wonder what she would think of me, who I am now. What I am. A poster boy, a symbol that the past is gone. That the rebels have been defeated; replaced, of course, by just another group of rebels who saw themselves as morally better. Sometimes I wonder, too, if any of them are still alive—the Black Swan was full of big dreams and piss-poor execution but there's no doubt they were and always have been survivors. I'd be willing to bet a few of them are lurking around, watching, waiting... maybe dreaming up rhyming couplets for those creepy notes they used to write once upon a time.

You know, I go out and see the cities a lot. Not because I want to, but out of obligation. We do these inspection things: population count, living condition stats, ratio of Worthy to Unworthy and stuff like that. I'm always dragged around for everything. If you're reading this you probably know this already but I have to wear an awful collar—it's for my ability, actually, to keep it in check like a restrictor-type thing. And when I walk through the streets and see all those Unworthy people covered in dirt and grime and the pain of what they can't control, all watching me, it stings more than usual. It itches, it burns, makes me want to claw it off and chuck it into the ocean. There's different opinions they have of me, I know. They hate me or they want to be me or they pity me. But I don't want their pity. I don't care if it hurts anymore. I don't care that life doesn't mean anything anymore. There's no point in caring. Nothing will change.

And yet... I'm writing this for a reason. I haven't got the slightest clue who it will reach, if anyone. But even though I don't know where this letter is headed, or if it's pointless, here I am writing it anyway because I have to do something. I can't keep going through the same routine over and over and over hoping to whatever's out there that someday it'll end, because maybe it won't. Look, lately I've been seeing something. And I know the Elite like to pretend there's no resistance, that the Red doesn't exist—whatever it is. But I swear sometimes I walk through the halls of the palace and see that symbol on the wall. You know the one. Everyone does. That searing red hot brand everyone gets when they're bestowed with the lowly title of Unworthy. I can't tell if it's in blood or paint or what but every time I come back to make sure I didn't imagine it it's gone. Maybe I am imagining it. Maybe my mind is finally starting to break. It can't be real.

But it feels real.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

this chapter was written by gothambbygirl. all other chapters will be written by the hunkyhair fan club.