Krishna lay in the sterile hospital room, the scent of antiseptic heavy in the air. His body, still broken and battered from the horrors he had endured, rested beneath the thin hospital sheets. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking the silence, a constant reminder of his fragile state. His body was healing, but the emotional scars ran deeper. The memories of the lab, the pain, and the brutality he had witnessed haunted him even now, even as he rested.
The door creaked open softly, and Krishna’s classmates began to filter in one by one. First came Remus and Renford, their faces grim but relieved. They had seen the destruction and chaos that had unfolded, and seeing Krishna alive was a weight lifted from their shoulders.
"Hey, man," Remus greeted with a gentle smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "How’re you holding up?"
Krishna’s gaze flickered up to them, his thoughts heavy. “I'm... still here,” he replied quietly, his voice barely a whisper. "But... I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay."
Renford gave him a sympathetic nod, though he understood that words could do little to heal the deep wound Krishna felt inside. The boy’s trauma was palpable, his guilt crushing him. “You’ve been through hell, Krishna,” Renford said, his voice steady and calming. “But you’re not alone. You’ve got us.”
They both stood by his bed for a moment, offering their silent support before placing a small bag on the table next to his bed. “We brought you something,” Remus said softly. “To make the recovery a little easier.”
Krishna glanced at the bag, his eyes tired but grateful. He opened it slowly and found a few small gifts: a new notebook for his writing, some snacks, and a collection of manga his friends knew he loved. Despite the pain, Krishna felt a small flicker of warmth. It wasn’t much, but it was a reminder that he was cared for.
As they left, the door opened again, and this time, Aliyah, Yelena, and Emma stepped inside. The three girls walked up to his bed, their faces filled with concern and sympathy.
"How’re you feeling, Krishna?" Yelena asked gently, taking a seat beside him. "I heard the doctors are optimistic, but... we know it’s more than just physical healing for you right now."
Aliyah’s eyes were soft as she folded her arms, leaning against the wall. "We wanted to talk to you about... well, him," she said, her voice hesitant. "Your clone. The Tape Clone."
Krishna’s heart sank as the mention of the Tape Clone caused memories to flood back. The chaos. The screams. The destruction. The lives lost. And his own inability to stop it.
Emma placed a hand on Krishna’s shoulder, offering comfort. “We’re not blaming you for what happened,” she said softly. “But we thought you should know that the city is still recovering. People are scared. People are angry. And... well, the clone was a part of you, wasn’t he?”
Krishna’s eyes squeezed shut as guilt washed over him. He had failed to stop the monster he had created. That thing that was supposed to be a reflection of him was out there, wreaking havoc, killing, and causing unimaginable pain. The pain he had already endured felt like nothing compared to the agony of knowing that his creation had hurt so many.
“The things that clone did…” Krishna's voice trembled. “I couldn't stop him. I couldn't—I should’ve—"
Before he could finish, the door opened again, and to his surprise, it was Marshall Hunter, #5 Hero. He stepped in with a quiet confidence, his expression calm but with a glint of something more in his eyes. He had been the one to chase down and confront the Tape Clone. Krishna’s heart skipped a beat as Marshall’s presence filled the room.
"Krishna," Marshall said, his voice steady and reassuring. "I’ve got good news for you."
Krishna looked up, confused and wary. “Good news?” he asked weakly, unsure if he could handle any more news after everything that had happened.
Marshall gave a small, grim smile. “The Tape Clone... He’s been dealt with. I tracked him down, and we fought. He’s severely injured. It’s going to take him a while to recover. He won’t be causing any more chaos for now.”
Krishna’s chest tightened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a small breath of relief escaped him. The monster, the dark reflection of himself, had been stopped.
But the guilt remained. He could have stopped him. He should have. His mind wandered again to the horrible, violent memories. His clone had murdered, raped, and caused unimaginable destruction, all while Krishna lay helpless, unable to control what he had unleashed.
"I... I could’ve stopped him," Krishna whispered, guilt heavy in his voice. "I should've done more..."
Marshall crouched beside his bed, meeting his gaze with a piercing look. “No one could’ve predicted that, kid. You were in a hell of a situation. And you fought like hell to get out. What matters now is that we stop this from happening again—and we help you heal, inside and out. You can’t carry this burden alone."
Krishna’s hands trembled as he tried to find the words to express the turmoil inside him, but all he could do was nod. Marshall stood up and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Focus on getting better, Krishna. You’ve got the world’s best heroes watching your back.”
As Marshall left the room, Krishna felt a tiny spark of hope flicker inside him, though it was weak and uncertain. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. But for now, he would focus on healing, on finding his way back from the dark place he’d been thrust into. His journey was far from over—but for the first time, he felt like it was possible to move forward.
The heroes, his friends, and his own willpower were all here for him. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
The Broken Reflection
The sterile, cold walls of the underground lab felt suffocating to Tape Krishna. His body, still bruised and battered from his encounter with Marshall Hunter, lay sprawled on a cold metal table. The air smelled of antiseptic and chemicals, a stark contrast to the chaos he had left behind in the city. His once-imposing frame now appeared fragile, bruised, and broken, like a cracked mirror reflecting the shattered remnants of his own soul.
His limbs felt heavy, and every movement sent jolts of pain through his body. Marshall Hunter had delivered a beating like no other, and Tape Krishna had barely escaped with his life. His mind buzzed with fragmented thoughts, his memories flickering like a broken film reel. The Tape Clone was never supposed to be this… weak. He had been created to be the perfect weapon, yet here he was, reduced to a pile of pain and regret.
A low chuckle echoed through the lab, snapping Krishna out of his thoughts. His eyes flickered upward to see three figures standing before him.
The first was Plague Doctor, a looming figure draped in a dark, tattered robe, with a grotesque mask that distorted his face. His eyes glinted with a dark amusement, as though he found Krishna's suffering entertaining. "Well, well," Plague Doctor crooned, his voice laced with malice. "It seems you've encountered a small hiccup in your little... rampage."
Krishna gritted his teeth, trying to push himself up, but the pain was overwhelming. "Shut up," he muttered weakly, his voice raw. "I don't need your damn commentary."
Mika stood beside Plague Doctor, her face as cold and indifferent as ever. Her piercing gaze was fixed on Krishna, but she said nothing. She simply observed, her arms crossed, as though waiting for something. Her silence felt more unnerving than any words.
Then, there was Junko Gacy, the clown-like figure who had become a twisted force of chaos. His red suit seemed to gleam under the harsh lab lights, his white mask shifting between emotions in an unsettling dance. His gold cane, both a sword and a mace, rested casually at his side. He grinned widely, his eyes filled with madness. "Heh, what a sight," Junko remarked with his signature insane chuckle. "A reflection of yourself, huh? A broken, bloody mess."
Tape Krishna clenched his fists, though it did little to stop the tremors in his body. "I’m not like them," he spat. "I was supposed to be perfect."
"Oh, darling," Plague Doctor cooed, stepping forward with an eerie grace. "Perfection is a lie. You are nothing but a mirror of the chaos inside you. A twisted reflection. And it seems the chaos has finally caught up to you."
Tape Krishna’s mind raced. The pain, the guilt, the rage—it all swirled within him like a storm. He could feel his essence fraying, unraveling. Marshall Hunter’s words echoed in his head—“You won’t be causing any more chaos for now.”
For now. But what did that even mean? How long before he could escape again, before he could return to wreak havoc and destruction?
Mika stepped forward, her eyes never leaving Krishna’s weakened form. "You failed, Tape Krishna," she said quietly, her voice colder than the chill in the lab. "You're nothing more than a pawn in their game. And now, you're a broken tool—useless, weak."
Krishna wanted to scream, to lash out, but his body betrayed him. He was nothing. A failure. Just a poor copy of a man who never deserved to be created in the first place.
Junko Gacy leaned down, his grin widening as he tilted his head to one side. "A failure, you say?" he giggled. "No, no. You’re not a failure. You’re just... a plaything for the big players. The ones who really get it. You're here for a reason, Krishna. You were made to be chaos, but you're too small to realize that."
The weight of their words crushed him further. He had always known he was a creation—an imperfect clone designed for one thing: destruction. Yet, deep down, there was always the nagging thought that he was something more. But now, with Marshall Hunter's victory and these twisted individuals circling him like vultures, that thought seemed like a distant dream.
"You're just like me now," Junko said, his voice low and manic. "Broken, weak, crawling back to your creators like a sad little puppy. Just another tool to use when the time is right."
Krishna’s anger flared, but the weakness in his body held him down. He could feel the fire rising within him—rage, regret, guilt, all tangled together. He had been through hell, and yet... he could not stop the growing desire for revenge.
“Shut up...” Krishna muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing.
Mika watched him closely, her expression unreadable. “You want revenge? You want to be more than this?” she asked softly. “Then prove it. Get up. Fight for yourself. Or stay a broken shell for the rest of your existence.”
Plague Doctor stepped back, his fingers dancing in the air as he hummed a haunting tune. "Let him simmer in his own misery for now. He’ll come around eventually. They all do."
The three of them turned and walked away, leaving Tape Krishna in the dim light of the lab. As their footsteps faded, the silence enveloped him once more.
But in that silence, a single thought rang out loud and clear: He would get up. He would rise again. He would prove them all wrong.
Even if it meant destroying everything in his path.
Tape Krishna stands as a complex villain, whose twisted actions and motivations are rooted deeply in pain and inner turmoil. His villainy isn't born from a simple thirst for power, but from the suffering he's endured, his own fractured sense of self, and his desperate need to exert control over a life that has always been unpredictable and hostile. Let's further explore the intricacies of his character, deepening his psychological profile, and understanding the layers of his personality.
Motives:
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Chaos & Unpredictability: Tape Krishna isn’t just drawn to chaos for its own sake—he gravitates towards it because it mirrors the instability of his own existence. From the moment of his creation, his life has been defined by unpredictability: his body, the constant pain from his biology, the manipulation by those around him, and the betrayal by his own allies. This desire for chaos, therefore, represents his attempt to externalize the internal disarray he feels, embracing the idea that everything is futile, including the search for any form of peace or stability.
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Violence as Catharsis: Given his tortured existence, violence becomes an emotional release for Tape Krishna. The act of inflicting pain may allow him to externalize the suffering that is otherwise hidden inside. It's not so much a joy in hurting others, but rather a desperate attempt to channel his emotional agony into a form that feels momentarily more controllable. This self-destructive cycle reinforces his villainous path as he goes from one violent act to another.
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Pain as Proof of Existence: His failed biology means that every moment he experiences is underscored by pain. Yet, for Krishna, this pain acts as a form of validation. He doesn’t just want to end it; he wants others to acknowledge it—to see him as more than a mere "failed creation." In a world where he’s never had control, the pain becomes a twisted symbol of his resilience. When others feel it too, it somehow validates his existence.
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Revenge Against His Creators & Manipulators: The people who molded Krishna into a weapon—Mika, Junko, and Plague Doctor—are not just distant figures to him. They are the source of his torment, and they represent everything he despises about his own creation. His vengeance against them is not just a personal vendetta; it’s an expression of frustration against the world that has turned him into a pawn. This revenge comes not out of a need for justice, but as a means of asserting control in an environment where he's always been controlled.
Complexity:
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Tormented by His Allies: While Tape Krishna might have expected some kind of understanding or camaraderie from his fellow terrorists, he’s met with abandonment and manipulation. Junko, with his chaotic nature; Mika, whose manipulative ways make Krishna feel like an object; and Plague Doctor, who treats him with cold indifference—each adds a layer to his psychological wounds. Krishna's feelings of betrayal here are rooted not only in the actions of these individuals but also in the deeper psychological fracture of never being accepted or valued for who he is. His alliance with these figures becomes an uneasy partnership where he feels like both a victim and a tool.
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Tormented by His Own Body: The very biology that was meant to empower him instead weakens him. His body becomes a constant reminder of his own failure. This physical torment fuels his rage and accelerates his self-loathing. Every time he moves, breathes, or interacts with the world, his body betrays him. Pain becomes an inescapable echo in his life, a cruel irony for a being who was created to be something greater.
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Mental Torment: Tape Krishna’s internal conflict is one of the greatest sources of his complexity. His mind is trapped between the person he might have been and the monster he has become. The guilt of his violent actions battles with the anger he feels toward the world. He questions his purpose, but his fractured psyche leads him down a dark road—struggling not only with the torment of his existence but also the overwhelming question of whether redemption is even possible for someone like him. The duality between his desire to fight back and the uncertainty of his actions forms the core of his psychological turmoil.
Symbolism:
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Failed Creation: Tape Krishna symbolizes the darker side of creation, where science and ambition fail to account for the humanity—or lack thereof—of the creatures they bring to life. He is the unintended consequence of reckless ambition, a living testament to the dangers of playing god. His failure isn't just physical; it's existential. He represents all the hopes and dreams of those who tried to shape him, now crumbled into a being who cannot live up to the expectations of those who created him. His body, mind, and actions mirror the very failure he embodies.
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Pain from Others: Tape Krishna’s journey is one of external suffering, yet it's often the catalyst for his most destructive actions. Rather than being inherently evil, Krishna’s character embodies how external forces—abuse, manipulation, and neglect—can warp an individual's psyche, pushing them into villainy. The very people who caused him pain are now the focus of his rage, and this vengeance isn't just personal—it’s the world’s cruel reflection of his existence.
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The Weak Born: His fractured, painful biology emphasizes the weakness that others have imposed on him. Despite the violence and destruction he causes, Krishna is ultimately someone who struggles against the world’s perception of him as "broken" or "inferior." His inability to overcome his inherent fragility becomes a symbolic representation of the weakness that the world has assigned to him, which he attempts to dismantle through violent acts.
Mental Health Check:
Psychological Disorders:
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Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD): His volatile emotions and relationship instability, particularly his all-or-nothing perceptions of his allies, are indicative of BPD. His sense of self is fluid and unreliable, shifting between feelings of extreme worthlessness and grandiosity, depending on his emotional state. Tape Krishna’s interactions with others, especially his creators and fellow terrorists, reflect the disorder’s hallmark instability.
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Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD): Tape Krishna’s repeated exposure to trauma has left deep psychological scars. The physical abuse, combined with his rejection and betrayal, has left him with symptoms of PTSD. These could include heightened anxiety, intense flashbacks to moments of suffering, and dissociation as a coping mechanism. His violent outbursts are often a direct result of his fear, trauma, and unresolved grief.
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Depression & Anxiety: Chronic depression seems like a natural consequence of his experiences. With no stable sense of purpose or identity and constant physical pain, Tape Krishna likely battles with a deep sense of hopelessness. The anxiety comes from the unpredictability of his environment and the constant fear that his tormentors will continue to manipulate him.
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Identity Disturbance: Tape Krishna’s fractured sense of self—torn between being an agent of destruction and seeking a deeper purpose—leads to a profound crisis of identity. He doesn’t know who he is, let alone who he wants to become. This creates internal chaos, adding yet another layer of instability to his existence.
Character Traits:
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Impulsive & Self-Destructive: Tape Krishna’s impulsive nature often leads to reckless violence, which he can’t control. His need to inflict harm on others stems from his inability to process or deal with the pain he experiences himself. Self-destruction becomes his only outlet, putting him in dangerous situations with little regard for his own well-being.
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Anger & Rage: Tape Krishna’s rage isn’t just a tool for destruction—it's the only emotional armor he has left. He channels his anger into every aspect of his existence, whether it’s during battle or in his interactions with others. It’s a reflection of his desperation to regain control over a life he feels has always been beyond his grasp.
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Isolation: Tape Krishna has no true sense of connection with others. His violent tendencies push people away, and his fear of betrayal keeps him from ever trusting anyone completely. He hides behind layers of anger and unpredictability, shutting himself off from any form of vulnerability.
Personality Type:
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The Tragic Antihero: Krishna embodies the tragic antihero—a villain whose actions are driven by internal conflict and unresolved pain. He doesn’t commit evil out of desire for power but out of a deep, personal need for control, self-expression, and, ultimately, survival. His villainy is the manifestation of his trauma, leaving him forever trapped between his potential for redemption and the relentless cycle of violence that consumes him.
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The Loner: His emotional isolation, born from a lifetime of rejection and manipulation, makes him a loner. He has a longing for connection, but it’s always overshadowed by his fear of being hurt or betrayed again.
Dark Triad Traits:
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Narcissism: Krishna’s self-image is built around the idea of strength and power, but it’s a fragile narcissism rooted in his need for validation. His violence may also stem from his desire to be seen and acknowledged.
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Machiavellianism: He manipulates the chaos around him, twisting situations to suit his unpredictable needs. His interactions with others are often calculated, even though his overall approach is chaotic.
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Psychopathy: Tape Krishna’s psychopathic tendencies are evident in his disregard for the suffering of others. His capacity for harm without remorse, along with his lack of empathy, paints him as a deeply disturbed individual.
Conclusion:
Tape Krishna’s journey is one of profound suffering and existential conflict. His villainy is a product of the pain and manipulation he has endured, compounded by his fragmented identity and the violence that his tortured soul is compelled to enact. His character is a reflection of how deep trauma can twist a person’s soul, and his story is ultimately one of a tragic antihero, lost in the darkness of his own creation.
the Hologram
The room was suffocatingly silent, save for the soft hum of machinery that droned on like a whisper in the dark. Krishna stood motionless, his body tense as the hologram of his anatomy flickered to life in front of him. The Plague Doctor's gaunt face, half-covered by his mask, loomed in the dim light. His voice, low and rasping, echoed through the room as his fingers tapped the screen, zooming in on Krishna’s skeletal structure.
“Fascinating…” The Plague Doctor’s words slid through the air, like a cold breath. With a flick of his wrist, the image twisted, revealing something that no one—least of all Krishna—could have expected.
At first, the hologram showed nothing more than the basic outline of a human body. But then, with an eerie clarity, the image began to sharpen. The bones of Krishna’s frame were distorted—twisted, jagged, and grotesque. Spikes. Long, cruel bone protrusions jutted from his ribs, spine, even from his skull. The tips of these vicious growths were honed, like blades, sharp enough to rend flesh with a mere twitch. But these weren’t just any mutations. They were weapons. Bone, transformed into instruments of agony, stabbing through muscle tissue, cutting deep into nerve endings.
Krishna’s expression was unreadable, the calmness of his face belying the deep chaos inside him. But something—something—shifted within him. The Plague Doctor, his fascination palpable, let the hologram linger in mid-air, before speaking again.
“These spikes…” He clicked his tongue in mock thoughtfulness. “Not natural, are they? A design… a purpose. You've become a weapon, Krishna.”
The hologram zoomed in on the nerve clusters, now visibly twisted and severed. The pain was almost tangible, like the very air around Krishna was saturated with it. But it was more than mere pain. The spikes weren’t just inside him—they were him. They twisted his muscles, punctured them, shredded through tissue, and left the body raw, exposed. The severed nerves sent constant jolts of agony to his central nervous system, but Krishna couldn’t feel it. The pain wasn’t for him. No, this pain was part of the design, a never-ending reminder of the cruelty he’d become.
Every movement he made—a simple flex, a twitch of his fingers—sent shockwaves of pain spiraling through his body. The spikes stabbed deeper into his muscles, grinding against his bones. His back arched involuntarily, as the nerve endings in his spine screamed with every flex of his muscles. His own body was betraying him at the most basic level. Each breath burned in his chest, a constant reminder of the hell his flesh had been molded into.
Krishna’s muscles twitched in response to the stimuli, spasming in a cruel dance that he couldn’t control. His joints screamed as the spikes dug into the tissue surrounding them, tearing at the very fabric of his being. Every movement felt like he was being torn apart from the inside, but he had no choice. He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. The pain was part of him now, woven into every fiber of his existence.
Krishna stood tall, despite the constant barrage of agony. His body, a grotesque monument of cruelty, was forged for endurance, built for combat, and it would not falter. The spikes embedded in his flesh ensured that he would never be at peace, but they also ensured that he would never break. The pain wasn’t just something to survive—it was a test, a challenge, and in a twisted way, it fueled him. The more it hurt, the sharper his resolve became. He had endured worse, far worse. And this? This was nothing.
“What do you think, Krishna?” The Plague Doctor’s tone was almost mocking, but there was a flicker of something darker beneath it. “What is it like, being alive, only to be destroyed by your own design?”
Krishna’s hand twitched. His fingers flexed ever so slightly, as though reaching for something that wasn’t there—something that might offer him relief, or at least the briefest moment of reprieve. But there was nothing. Not here. Not now. The pain twisted, slithering like fire through his veins, but still, Krishna did not flinch.
He turned his gaze toward the Plague Doctor, the coldness in his eyes deepening. His face, expressionless, betrayed nothing of the hell within him. The hologram flickered and distorted, the cruel spikes dancing in the flickering light, yet Krishna stood there—unbroken, unmoved.
For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension. The Plague Doctor’s mask didn’t give away anything, but it was clear: He was watching, analyzing, waiting for some crack in Krishna’s cold resolve.
But Krishna? He didn’t need to feel the pain to understand. He didn’t need to see the damage. The damage was inside him, something much worse than the spikes or the blood. The real horror was what he had become. Something… worse than human.
“What do you think, Doctor?” Krishna’s voice was low, edged with a quiet fury. “It’s not destruction. It’s rebirth. This pain? It makes me who I am. It’s what I was always meant to be.”
The Plague Doctor’s mouth curled upward beneath his mask, but the true meaning of Krishna’s words hung in the air, heavy with a quiet power. The transformation wasn’t a failure—it was a choice. And Krishna had chosen this.
Tape Krishna’s Thoughts:
Every movement hurts.
But it’s nothing new. I’ve been through worse. I’ve lived through worse. This… this is just another test, isn’t it? Another mockery of the body I was born with. A cage of my own making, but still, I remain. I have to. What else is there but to endure?
Pain… pain is constant. It’s with me in every step, every breath. It courses through my veins like fire, like a poison that’s long ago become a part of me. These spikes—my spikes—they’re both weapon and curse, both armor and a shackle. I thought I’d never stop feeling the agony, but… I think I’ve become used to it. No. That’s not it. I don’t think I’m used to it—I think I embrace it. I have no choice but to.
Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like without this pain. Without the constant pressure in my muscles, without the jagged bone tearing through my flesh with every movement. But then, I think about how much of me is built on this. How much of me is defined by it. How much of my very existence is tied to this broken, brutal form. If I didn’t have the spikes, if I didn’t have this suffering, would I be anyone at all?
I am the broken parts. I am the spikes in my flesh, the cracks in my mind. Every tear in my nerve endings is a reminder of what I’ve been made into. A weapon, yes. But more than that—a reflection of the destruction that’s been poured into me, like molten metal that hardens as it cools. I am a creation, but I am also a consequence. The pain is my birthright. The torment, my inheritance.
What does it mean to be alive when your body fights against you? What does it mean to be alive when every movement is a lesson in survival, a battle against the very thing that gives you life? The spikes, the tearing nerves—they aren’t just a part of me; they control me. They’re a constant reminder that I’m not in control of my own body. I could collapse. I could surrender to the agony that pulses in my bones, the overwhelming flood of excruciating feedback from every muscle and tendon. The whole of me could shut down, could break under the strain.
But I won’t. Not now. Not ever. If I fall now, if I let go, there’s nothing left to hold me up. If I give in to the suffering, I stop existing. Not physically, no, but I cease to be who I am. The broken parts might consume me, but I refuse to let them. Every cut, every tear, every twist of agony is a part of me. A part of my will. And my will is stronger than my body.
Am I becoming something else? Something worse than what I was meant to be? Maybe. But then, what is worse than pain if it’s all you’ve ever known? What is worse than suffering if it’s the only constant that defines you? If it’s the only thing that reminds you you’re still alive—still here?
I am my own creation, my own curse. I’ve been twisted, manipulated, molded into something else entirely. But even if I am broken, even if I am everything they made me to be and more, I will remain. That’s all I know. That’s all I have left. In the end, that’s all I’ll ever be.
A weapon. A shattered soul. A walking wound. But I will stand. Even if the pain tears me apart from the inside out. Even if the spikes in my bones rip through my flesh with every movement. I will remain. And that will be enough.