The Scarlet Whore
The Scarlet Whore
By Ridia
DISCLAIMER: This is a fan fiction. As such, all characters and settings and the like are copyright their respective owners. I make no claim to own or have created the non-original aspects to this story and I stand to make absoloutely no profit off this story's existance.
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Fucking sterotypes! I seethed, slamming my office door behind me as I sagged against it, head
bowed in defeat. I can't escape it. No matter what I do.
I wiped my eyes angrily, not daring admit to even myself that my gloved hand came back damp from my
face. All I needed was to compose myself. That, I could do. Years of practice perfected my smile, though
age had given me the slight wrinkles at the corner of my mouth and eyes.
Frown lines. Stress. God above knows my smiles weren't genuine. But I'd been at it for so long that my
face automatically assumed a warm, friendly smile to the public's eye.
Some said it was 'inviting'.
The smile creased to a frown. There was no public here to impress. Disgust washed over me as I clutched
a hand to my chest. Yeah... he'd invited himself alright. I thought, a low growl forming deep in my
throat.
The former President Shinra, now deceased. The most powerful man in the world. Impossible to say no to.
I know the view from his desk quite intimately; it's changed little since his son took office. It seemed that
one flash of my smile and the former President decided it was up skirts and down trousers, without even a
by-your-leave.
His habit. My reputation.
Little need to say what happened to me then. I was his little scarlet whore. He all but ordered me to wear
my namesake in the office.
You don't say no to the man who rules the world.
So I obeyed. He ordered me dresses, low cut, revealing. Not my style at all. The man fashioned me and
dressed me, as if I were some living plaything for him to mould into his ideal of a perfect woman. I suppose
I should have been flattered.
Little by little, that man chipped away every last scrap of innocence I held untill I was in truth his Scarlet
Woman. It hardened me. Cut me off from the world and made me into the cold hearted bitch my reputation
demanded. He got off on it, afterall.
The bastard liked to make me scream. Only fitting, he seemed to believe, that scarlet rivulets decorated my
breasts and sex. He so loved to play with knives. It probably made him feel like a bigger man.
I don't need to think about this! Stumbling to my desk, I pulled out the chair, shakily taking a seat.
He got what he deserved!
And he had. For once it wasn't my blood decorating his office, his flesh. I never spoke of it, but the sight
alone of the sword protruding from him sent a thrill through me. Freedom! God what a cruel,
wonderful world! But even from the grave, that bastard haunts me!
I am what he made me. I can't escape it. Every day, I'm reminded by the world around me who I am and
where my new place in the world lies. Not even my own parents would recognize me... not even I would
recognize me.
I sat at my desk, slowly becoming numb as it burst within me and I knew... I knew...
My life was a lie.
A pencil was close at hand, I grabbed it and began to furiously scribble and sketch, plans, diagrams. A new
weapon. A bigger weapon. More powerful. Vengance. Yes... I would design the best weapon I could, all
the while imagining that it could blow away the memories and years, destroy this woman I'd
become. This woman I hardly knew.
This woman I hated.
~*~
Author's Note: I came up with this on the spot. If there's good feedback, there might be more added. =D