(opprobrium / ə-ˈprō-brē-əm / (n) 1: something that brings disgrace; 2a: public disgrace or ill fame following villainous acts; 2b: contempt, reproach;)

(CW: mild gore and body horror)

Darkness hits me like the concrete my body shattered against, and I sit up in a space I’m sure I’ve never seen. I’m sure I've never seen it, but familiarity itches in my mind like a knife’s memory itches behind the scars it leaves. Under me, polished black floor reflects a twisted silhouette I can hardly recognize, and the glowing smudge of an enormous purple crystal that hangs in the empty space overhead, illuminating everything in blacklight hues.

If there are walls, they are distant or well-disguised to disappear, and nothing else fills the space I can see. I look down at myself, finding the same cheap suit I always wore to work, split along several seams and soaked through with blood and offal. I stare at my body for a moment more, trying to remember what happened to it. My ribcage is flattened, crushed flat until it splits along the sides. My belly is like a spilled burlap sack, allowing my pulverized guts to spill out. My legs are turned the wrong way and have too many bends, and even my arms are mangled and shattered. I'm glad for the floor's murky reflection, unsure I would withstand the sight.

I keep expecting the usual reaction, the real reaction with the retching and horror. Instead, all I can feel is dread at what's to come.

“You’re awake! Welcome!” a voice booms around me, nonchalant arrogance echoing in my head. “Who would have thought I would get a visitor after all these years?”

His words don’t echo in the room, giving the space an uncomfortable infinity that instantly makes the purple crystal overhead seem unsettlingly distant.

I look for the source of the voice, finding him when I turn around fully. A man, reclining on a floating litter, his pale white hair literally glowing as he airs himself with a folding fan. I know my next words, even as I know the answer to them.

“Are you God?” I ask, and deja vu overwhelms me even as my vocal cords scream with the effort.

“I am indeed a god, you strange little soul! Perhaps you’ve heard of the great Kontis, Lord of Chaos?” He’s puffing his chest out, and for all I know this is a dream I still feel the same laugh choke out through my destroyed throat.

“N-no, never heard of him. You. Sorry.”

“Ah,” he says, looking more put out than embarrassed. “Well, that’s to be expected I suppose. Now, let’s… oh, you can’t stay for long, can you? No, they’ll be upset with both of us for breaking through this prison's walls. I wonder how you slipped through?”

He’s muttering to himself, looking extremely serious as he lightly taps the fan against his chin.

“Can I have my afterlife now, please? I’m not really excited about chatting with confusing minor deities.” Another shudder of familiarity shakes me as Kontis flicks his eyes back up to stare me down, and snaps the fan open to start airing himself.

“Minor? Minor deity!? No, you don't get to make that decision. Let's take a peek at your life…”

His eyes ignite with flames and I feel as if my soul is being scoured with steel wool. Every inch of my being peeled back, cut to ribbons and stretched paper thin against a blazing projector's bulb. The pain is so great I can't even scream, just collapse and tremble.

“What are you?" His words eek through the agony and all I want is to wake up. "Why can't I erase… what is a 'skyscraper'!?"

The wooden bed pushes closer to me, and I can't even try to move away. Kontis does not lose his blazing glare as he rides his bed up and over me until my torso is entirely underneath him and only my head is exposed. The litter lowers until it’s pressing into my chest.

“You don’t have the signs of my handiwork, and I’m quite sure the others would have poached my poor souls by now. No, you are too strange, all kinds of wrong. I should do the universe a favor and be rid of you.” He leans over me, and a sneer spreads across his face as the fire in his eyes finally dies down, leaving only the pressure of him sitting on me to send bolts of agony over my being.

"But that wouldn't be very fun, would it? No, that's far too in line with my sister's rules and regulations. Instead, why don't I adopt you? You get to continue existing, and I get a proper agent in the world. After all, it's been far too long since anyone spread chaos in the name of Kontis. What do you say, little soul? Waking from this little nightmare, or being consumed by it?"

The pressure of the weight on my chest explodes suddenly, as if the litter had settled on me fully, and oh fuck it hurts. For all the mauling I did to my body, none of the broken parts of me have been more than sore. By contrast, being under Kontis is as if a dozen knives are pressing into my chest and gut, each with the weight of a cinderblock. At the same time, my sides feel like balloons squished to the point of bursting, stressing so sharply liquid fire crawls up and down them in time with my shaking gasps. Kontis smirks down at me.

“You’re no one’s, so you’re going to become mine, and just like any other soul, you’re going to return to Telix and exist to give me life.”

The pressure increases, the pain erupts, and I am sure that whatever my soul is made of will break.

When I wake up gasping and crying in bed, I couldn't be more glad to see my Mom already there, all worry and care and open arms.

I really fucking hate that dream.