" I am the sea, and nobody owns me. "
Born with a gift that's seen as a curse, a young woman must try to regain some kind of normalcy in a world that sees her as a monster.
Suicide Squad | Sunny Scribbles 2023
Bloodsport| Robert DuBois| Mature Rating
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Content Warning: Infant death
Hey, so sad chapter here. Thank you for reading! Also this is posted on the fly, I'll be able to do more comprehensive editing in a week or so, so apologies for any little errors. Enjoy!
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Amila was drifting at sea. Her body floated divinely, elegantly, against the surges of water with ease. Just a few inches of her skin were exposed to the air as she seemed to be stuck between the surface and the deep ocean. Wave after wave she began to skink, but resiliently, she remained at the brim of the sea and air. The sky was a welcoming grey and clouded green above her, and although she wasn't sure why she was out at sea, she didn't question her current location. After all, this was where she felt the most at home, where she felt whole.
Like any voyage, the endless floating would come to an end as the skies began to churn and swirl into a devastatingly beautiful symphony of putrid greens and ominous blacks. Something terrible was on the way. She just wasn't sure what.
Amila's limbs were uncharacteristically heavy, ungodly cold and once she pulled herself from her horizontal position, she realized she was at danger of sinking. Still, she'd tread water, her legs pumping harder, feeling fatigue in her core and shoulders. It wasn't normal, something, wasn't normal. The deep realization that she was supposed to be somewhere, doing something important, had sunk against her like a soaked drape.
Amila's seafaring eyes anxiously looked around her, her breath quickening as she realized she was not supposed to be here right now. The waves of the sea had become more violent and ravenous, peaking and crashing into her. Amila's aquatically inclined limbs struggled against the heavy tide, and it was then that she realized she could dive under rather than fight. She could succumb to the sea and be at peace under the swell. But she couldn't let go of this feeling that if she did, she'd lose something most important to her. She'd lose a little piece of her soul.
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Amila's body was heavy. A soft, methodical beeping lulled her awake, and soon there was a reassuring, firm pressure on her arm.
" Millie, " the voice was gruff, and soothing. It was familiar, and in that familiarity, she realized whose voice it was.
" Dad. "
Amila's voice wasn't her own, it was strained, tired. She opened her eyes and realized all at once what had happened. The explosion at the pier, and her sudden loss of time.
Fearful, frightened eyes scanned the room, realizing she was now in a hospital bed. Amila's hands hesitantly ran down her hospital gown, her fingers catching the fabric, the blanket, until finally, she reached her soft, irregular stomach.
All at once she sat up, Myron by her side, trying to quiet the storm of emotions in her. She attempted to hold in a wail, a soft sob escaping her lips as she managed to spit out a short sentence.
