She slumped to the floor. Everyone was dead. It all could’ve been over if they had only listened. When she took an ax and fire to the wooden horse. When she ran the streets, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear as she sobbed her visions to the ground. Only the women were left; their fate–she knew, and she wanted to yell in the injustice of it all. Nothing was left to do but divvy up the women for each man to take home.

She had nothing left to do but submit to it–now that Agamemnon was here.

…

She shot up in her bed. Screams and blood echoed through her head.

She was going to die. Everyone in Agamemnon’s palace was going to die.

She was going to die.

The only thing left would be Agamemnon’s wife and her lover.

Clytemnestra.

She-

was-

going-

to-

die.

Nothing left but her tears streaming down her empty eyes and the vermilion across her body.

For most of her life, she had been ignored, violated, and emotionally abused. No wonder everyone had told her that she was disturbed.

They had made her a τρελή γυναίκα. It was easier to be insane, to sit there quietly while the men unknowingly plotted their death. She used to want to help them–to say,” wait! You’re going to do it wrong!” She had suffered enough years of deliberate ignorance to know they would never hear her.

Her entire life was for naught.

A heaviness sank in. Her visions were never wrong. So she knew when she would die and by whose hand.

Should she tell someone?

She took a breath. In and out. Her body relaxed.

Maybe this time someone would listen.

…

She paced. She knew when she would die, by whose hand she would die, and the time she would die. Why couldn't she just die now?

Then her nightmare of life would be over. She would be going to die anyway...why not now?

She started to sob. Why wouldn't it end? She had wished to die for a long time now but never dared to do it. But maybe if she had died during the war, would anything have changed?

No. Her entire life was a farce.

She was never going to be someone important. Being who she was, being a woman, wasn't allowed. She was only defined by the men around her. Agamemnon, her father, those around her father...Ajax. The ones that she was expected to venerate as if they were the gods that everyone worshipped.

Better to lead them all to their death. She snickered.

She wasn't going to just lay down and take it. She did that for years. It was time she took control of her visions.

…

words dancing

agamemnon’s demise

only creeping.

she’ll die, but take everyone

with her.