That day? Yes I remember it, the day I realized why it is that I am a tool for Death to use. A mere item for him to send off to do his work. It was years ago, before I even met Death. I was still living at home. The ones I referred to as my parents were, as any other day, oblivious to my existence. Research and progress in the ways of science were more important than my well being, but it was supposed to be that way, A necessary ignorance in order to allow them to train me, to make me who I am to become.
"thats not good enough" he would say. "you need to be more aggressive, don't give me an opening to make a counter" I was young, and not very strong. Not that it mattered to him, everyday him and the other assistants to the house put me through training that would break your average soldier, and I was still in elementary. I took up the sword, and lunged at him again, his form so elegant and pure it made me look like a rotten sack of shit. That day was a bare knuckle day. His fist drove into my cheek with the force of a hammer.
"get up! we're not done yet" all the time I had with him meant I had grown somewhat used to his pain, it was required for me to break the false sense of superiority I had, I had no superiority. Never did, never will. A tool like me has no need for such useless mindsets, he did well to extinguish the thought from my body and mind. If it weren't for him and his team of assistants, the world as we know it today would be very different.
Whenever I was at school, nobody asked what happened to me, the way I looked it was like I had been thrown into a cement mixer filled with hammers. Not even the teachers asked me about my injuries. Makeup hid most of my failures from the world but not all of it.
People were miles away from me, even when they were inches away. He did good to make them seem insignificant, yet. So, desirable? I walked among them but not with them, like I was alienated from them but found them so fascinating I dare not intrude upon them. Like I could very well spoil their humble lives.
"get up Mercedes, we are not finished, now come at me again!" My children's books were replaced with fighting manuals, time with 'friends' was time with firearms, vacations were replaced with sleepless treks through mountains and deserts across the world. Dinner time was filled with mends to wounds I had been dealt. There was one thing, however, that did not change. In all my time with him, with them, one thing that stayed the way it was meant to be.
Dessert.
Whether it be a slice of the most delicious cake, a handful of the best cookies in the world, a wedge of the sweetest pie, dessert was one small thing in my life I did look forward to. If I did good I was rewarded with the finest sweets they could make. I guess, it was a form of motivation. As I got older, the rewards got smaller, I started to work harder to get what was given. Then the moment came that told me what I am.
"Your holding back, focus on me and strike me down!" I talked back to him. I was upset, angry with him that he took my reward away bit my bit. I lashed out at him in a fit of rage, and he came back at me with the most important thing he could have ever done for me. He parried my pathetic strike, hit me with all of his strength. So hard he broke some ribs and punctured a lung, but those were nothing compared to his finishing blow.
"Remember your place Mercedes, you are a tool. The greatest tool to have ever been crafted in this universe. I have the privilege of making you that tool, even if I have to break you a few times to make it perfect!" with the sword he gave me, he drove it through my leg, causing irreparable damage. That day, was the last day I walked on two legs.
The next day he came to me, standing behind what he said. He handed me a cane, a heavy iron cane that has since disappeared. I stared at that cane, feeling it. Swung it around and took its overall measure. It might as well have been a hammer. Thats when I realized it.
I am a tool, nothing more than a tool used for the benefit of others, a support for much more than just my existence. A column for all the world to weigh on and more. I am not a person, I am a tool. The greatest tool ever crafted. I had been awakened, been reborn.
I had been shown my destiny.
I had been broken.
