Before my mother, women in my family were defined by their looks. Those deemed beautiful enough to survive the harsh expectations of being a Liafador were welcomed into this..this cult, the unfortunate were thrown to the wolves. Forgotten until the Spanish winter killed them off.
I'm fairly certain the accepted believed they were lucky--oh how far from the truth that was. We were slaves, second class sex citizens within our own familes. We were tools to be used by the men to push forth some sort of occult agenda. We didn't get to speak our minds, in fact those who had a mind were often drugged or indoctrinated.
The atrocites against women in my family grew to the point where they stopped allowing natrual births--Me. I'm the first product of an unnatrual birth. My genes are composed of my father, and my mothers--but my mother and father are also brother and sister. "The Perfect Liafador" that's what thos fckers called me. Perfect, perfectly insane; I see things I never experienced. I get cravings to kill; not to mention I have a disease that prevents me from ever fully trusting anyone.
My family should've been wiped off the map after the crusades. Instead we exist as false gods, most of it has to do with my mother; but alot of it has to do with HER parents. Grand Cardinalism is a religion that glorifies the horrors that Sabella and Ramon exposed us too, and they acended to godhood because of us, because they ensured that a little bit of them went into each of their children's offspring.
I never understood the pit, I knew my mother was the first person to complete it, Quintus, Zeon and Isis all came behind her; but I thought it was just a way our family developed powers. It's not. Because here I am in the Pit with my baby sister, powerless after already having powers. It's only now that I'm here, surrounded by the stomach churning growl of hellhounds that I realize we enter here for something different.
We enter to expunge the weaker elements of the Old Patriarchy, we come in here to become the people we were meant to be; and if we don't make it out, the shield of family was never meant to protect you.
For three days I've been dehydrated; giving any and all water I've come across to Tassi to keep her in good spirits. She knows I'm dying, she isn't as enthusiastic; but she knows I'm trying. For three days, I've had an infected wound on my shoulder. The wounds has been festering in the sweltering heat; I know I'm dying because I can literally smell it.
But I keep myself in good spirits listening to Tassi explain how Star likes to dig his bones in different locations because they taste different, or something along those lines.
I'm dying, and even though I am; I feel like I'm still going to make it. I mentioned before I am the genetic replica of Ziccarra Liafador, the Pit's first champion-- I refuse to let it beat me. I refuse to die a machine meant only to serve those who created me. I refuse to be a tool, but most importantly I refuse to allow my sister to become like us. Us, Maya, Myself and Selene. Tassi will be married, she will live a fruitful life--even if this damn cavern drives me crazy.
This endeavor has taught me a few things, I'm alot more resilent than I thought. 2, Tassi is really good at shadow figures. We eat days old hound, I'm not sure if it's healthy, but who cares in a place like this. Learning how to light a fire with rocks was probably easier than actually killing the damn thing, but once I did both I knew I could feed us for a few days. The hellhounds have three heads, like Cerberus, but like the Hydra went you cut one head off it grows back. Fcked me up when I first saw it, so I cut out it's heart--and I ate it. Today? Tassi can't tell the difference between the hellhound and duck. It's oily dark meat with a bit of a sour twag, but It could be based off what the thing has already eaten.
I watch as she drinks the last of her water, and I know it's time to find some more. I have not consumed one ounce of water since we've been in here. I have the unflattering task of drinking my sister's piss for survival.
We carry a small bottle in Tassi's Dora the explorer backpack. I have to tell her to go "Tee-Tee" she doesn't understand why but she's keeping me alive. We sleep close, because for some reason at what I think is night the temperature drops dangerously low, also because I'm so dehydrated I hear things. Not like beast or anything...but victims.
I heard the people I've killed, their moans bellow through the walls while we sleep. I feel the vibrations of their bodies flailing into ash on my spine. I am a Liafador made assassin and I've killed people, but I'm here to stop it all.
I don't want to be a murderous whore anymore. I want to be Catalina Liafador. Whoever she was meant to be. TBC.
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