Death's Daughter

Prologue

I approach the abyss before me, hearing the writhing mass of demons inside before I actually see them. My father sent me down here just yesterday morning, in an attempt to scare me enough so that I will never disobey his orders again. So far, it hasn’t worked. Yes, it feels like I’ve been down here for years already, even if it’s been less than 24 hours, but nothing has scared me. Most people would have quailed in fear by now, but, then again, I’m not most people. I’m the daughter of the god of death, Thanatos, and he should know better than to think I would be scared of anything he has to show me down here. He isn’t frightened at all, and I’m even more fearless than him.

Unlike my mother. The day after I was born, when she had fulfilled her purpose to him, he dragged her down here. I think we all hoped that he just meant to throw her into the underworld, to save her all the torture and pain that other lost souls had to survive.

Well, that’s why the others hoped for it. Me? I just wanted my father’s attention back on me.

But all our wishes were in vain. Instead, he strapped her to the rock that some guy rolls up a hill over and over again, for the rest of eternity (some form of endless punishment-I don’t really care to be honest) so that every time it rolled back down the hill, she would be squashed beneath it, breaking all her bones. He left her there for a few decades, then took her off and tied her to a post. There, to punish her and to continue my training, he had me cut her with my knife as many times as I could before she died from blood loss. Then he would resurrect her, and I would have to do it all again the next day.

It continued like this every day for 17 years, until one day I managed to cut off all of her skin without her dying. I’m very proud of that day, as it meant that I was finally ready to start as my dad’s personal assassin. After that he left her there for a while longer, before finally tossing her into the pit of no return, aka Tartarus.

Which takes us back to the moment at hand. Me, standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into Tartarus. Yay for me. I don’t want to be standing up here, looking down on all those poor, tortured souls, many of which I probably put down there myself. I definitely don’t want to be standing here regretting what I’ve done, while they’re down there living all the horrific punishments my father set up for them.

Oh no, I want to be right down there with them, seeing the anguish written all over their distorted features, hearing their weak pleas for help… What? Did you really think I would be sobbing over that lot? They deserve what they got. And anyway, I love me a bit of torture. Don’t believe that either? Then you lot really need to reread the last few paragraphs. You know that nice vivid story I just told you about my mother and the way she was cut so that every inch of sinew and muscle was exposed?

Well, I did that. Me. As in, the person you just expected to break down in a crying fit over a few random people who I killed myself. Just think about that for a minute.

As for you lot who aren’t as dumb as you look, let me tell you why I’m standing over the main attraction for the evening, narrating my every move. As I’ve already said, I’m death’s daughter. And I’m here to tell you exactly how I ruined my reputation as the number one psychopath of the 21st century.

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AN: So, there you go! This is something I just started writing when I was bored a few days ago, so I don't really know where it's going. Yes, it is a bit weird and some of you may start to worry about my mental health, but I am sane, I just thought I should try something a little.... different. I hope you enjoy it :)

Just please bear in mind that this is a very rough first draft, and I've only posted it up here because I wanted to know what you thought. Thanks for reading :)