Hannah knew herself and something...something just felt off. Could she explain it? No. But it was there, it didn't feel quite right and Hannah just couldn't put her finger on what had changed but something had changed. It was like her centre of gravity had shifted, only a little but enough for her to feel knocked off course and she didn't know how to move it back.
She pondered this as she walked back to her apartment from work, for some strange reason Hannah had decided to go through a longer route tonight, she just couldn't explain why like the fact that something felt off. She couldn't explain either of those things, she just didn't know and it was frustrating. Hannah kept her hands in her coat pockets as she crossed the bridge that was barely two minutes from her home, then her gaze was drawn out across the river where two boats floated in the quiet. It might have been a trick of the light in the dim light that she had, but for a moment in the reflection on the water.
The boats looked to be on fire.
Hannah inhaled sharply as her head started to scream, wave upon wave of images assaulted her mind - shrieking and screaming. She took off at a run, sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her to her apartment. Hannah forced her keys into the lock as the smell of smoke and screams of death echoed in her senses, not real - how could that possibly be real? Slamming the door shut behind her, Hannah barely even thought about locking it as her feet carried her to her bed and she collapsed on it. Curling up with a pillow, Hannah's fingers dug into her bedsheets and it was like she couldn't even breathe.
God above, she was going crazy wasn't she?
But then the images hit her with startling clarity, her mother, Clytemnestra, Caster, Pollux. The daughter of Sparta, most beautiful above all - not a woman, a prize to be claimed. There had been so many of them, so many coming to try and claim her, how had there been anything of her left? Menelaus, then Hermione - oh Hermione. Then she had run because she was selfish. Good girls don't tear down and destroy, even if they don't mean to - no good girls stay with their husbands and mind themselves, don't cause trouble, don't do anything but what they're told.
Oh but she'd never been good at that had she? Trouble haunted her, haunted her in everything. Every image that assaulted her head, trouble was everywhere and it was all her fault because she never could leave anything be. She was selfish, she always had been. Whoever she was, she could only destroy and burn everything she touched.
Then it stopped, Hannah's head flopped down into the pillow she had curled up around. She didn't even fight the tears that came, remembering had drained her and she didn't cry for herself but for everything and everyone that she'd destroyed. It might have been love but it wasn't beautiful, it wasn't romantic - it was pain and destruction. No, she wouldn't be Helen, she would only be Hannah. This time, she wouldn't destroy anything. Hannah owed the world that much.
She was beautiful but she was damned.
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