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There's No Cure for Sin

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"Seven deadly sins

Seven ways to win

Seven holy paths to hell

And your trip begins

Seven downward slopes

Seven bloodied hopes

Seven are your burning fires

Seven your desires…"

-Iron Maiden


They said the cure would get rid of them, those seven deadly sins. They said all the wrath, lust, pride, envy, greed, sloth, and gluttony would just disappear into dust. They say that love is the problem, the creator of sin. They were wrong; they still exist. It can't take the sin from them, it's written in their very nature. It's human nature to sin, after all.

The wrath; it wells up under their skin, taking away their passivity, taking away their zombie smiles. It causes men to beat their wives and mother's to smother their children.

Hana is angry, furious even, underneath it all. The anger (wrath) thrums through her veins. You left me, you left me, you left me, why? Why? Why?

It pounds in her skull into the very last second, until they inject the anesthesia into her veins. (It's still there, coursing through her very being as they remove the part of her that hurts). When she wakes up, she sports a three-pronged cut, and a calm like nothing else. (She's still angry.) She scratches at the cut absentmindedly, and it bleeds again and again. She loves the blood. They notice, she stops. It heals, she cries. And she doesn't know why.

(Underneath it all, the calm, the apathy, the wrath, she is sad; she never wanted Lena to leave her, not her.)

Sin, sin, it's sin. She wants it back.

The lust; it haunts their dreams (of course they dream), the heat and pressure welling in their bodies until they cannot feel anything else. Nothing, nothing else. It's the real reason everyone must be paired. The lust is insatiable otherwise. It drives them mad.

Julian is lustful. He never knew what it was, that heat and pressure building up in him when he saw the delicate sway of a girl's hips. The swish of their long hair and the smell of their skin. He never knew what it meant until he met Lena. (The tangled mess of her hair, the delicate curve of her waist, the smell of roses, he wants to devour her.)

Before Lena, he was never around girls long enough to know the meaning of the feeling, and it was always gone before he could memorize it. He'd see them sometimes, across the street, flinging their long hair over their shoulder to reveal graceful necks (the curve of Lena's neck is better than anything else in the world).

(He never has to give up this feeling, he never wants to give up this feeling, he'd rather die.)

Sin, sin, it's sin. He won't give it up.

The pride; they'd be a fool to think it gone. It's in the tilt of their head, the arrogance of their chins. The proud way they show off their procedure scars. The pride the rich held, the pride the poor clung to. It was a stubborn, stubborn thing, this pride. It kept them from admitting the existence of the invalids. In the end, it is their downfall.

Raven is proud. She is proud of her order, of her leadership. She is proud of her survival. She is proud of the survival of her people. She will not give them up. (She is too proud to ask for help, not when she really needs it.)

But she is the most proud of Lena. Lena; her little warrior. The tilt of strength in the younger girl's chin brought her joy. There wasn't a thing in the world she could be more proud of then the girl who went against everything she knew, and loved, and then loved again.

(Not all pride is unfounded, Raven knows this. Her pride is justified, and she takes pride in it.)

Sin, sin, it's sin. She won't let them have it.

The envy; it exists between the poor and the rich, the plain and the beautiful. It exists, they cannot erase it with scars. Envy claws at throats, suffocates hearts and kills friendships. Envy is destruction.

Alex is envious. He is envious of the soft look Lena gives Julian (it should be his), the careless way he kisses her, because this boy does not know what it is like to go without her kisses. He doesn't know what it is like to almost forget the sound of her laughter (please, please, not again, I need it, I need it, I need it.)

The envy runs hot in his veins and taints his world. He won't let it change to rage. He won't. He is envious of their ease, the way they move together easily. He is envious of anyone who holds her gaze, she won't look at him.

(this envy keeps him up at night, he doesn't know how to kill it.)

Sin, sin, it's sin. He doesn't want it.

The greed, it never goes. The greed is a ruling factor of their existence. No cure could take it from them, it is buried into their DNA, that wanting beyond wanting. The rich are still rich, and they still want to be richer. That will not change. It cannot change.

Lena is greedy, she wants the world and so much more. It beats in her heart, she has Julian, she had Alex, she had Hana; she wants them all. She does not want to give one for the other, she wants to keep them each just as they were, innocent Julian, caring Alex, reckless Hana. (She does not want to give them up, for they take away pieces of her heart when they leave.)

She wants Sarah and Hana, Blue and Grace, Raven and her mother. She does not want to give one for the other. She wants her old life, she wants the wilds, she wants New York. She does not want to let go of a single piece of before, but she also wants now, and tomorrow. She can't have them all. She keeps Julian, Sarah, and Raven. They want her too.

(She controls her greed with the best of her, but it never goes away.)

Sin, sin, it's sin. She can't help it.

The sloth; it exists in their apathy, it exists in their perfect cure. The total lack of desire, the not wanting, that is the cure. It is sloth, to become one of their zombies. It is antithesis of love, and their precious cure only creates more of it.

Grace is slothful. Without Lena she has no wanting left. She does not want to speak for Jenny or Carol or even Hana. Her words were for Lena, she meant to say them, those words she did not understand, but knew were forbidden. I love you. She meant to lisp them out in a shout, to give Lena that one last gift before she went.

Now that she is gone, Grace wants to sleep. To do nothing and feel nothing. Nothing matters now that Grace is alone.

(It's a byproduct of the last loved one leaving her. No one loves her now.)

Sin, sin, it's sin. She's too young to understand it.

The gluttony; could never go away, even if they meant it to. Food drips from their mouths and stains their silk sheets; the rich fools. Jewels drape their throats and rip their cashmere sweaters. They do not care; they only want more. The cure cannot cure them of their want.

Sarah does not deny her gluttonous ways. She wants silk and furs and chocolate dipped in chocolate. She wants thick, plump strawberries. She wants steak that makes saliva drip down her chin, and sauces that melt her thoughts. She wants cheese that makes her taste buds explode, and ice cream that makes her jaw ache at the taste.

She wants, wants, wants, and hardly ever receives. The injustice burns her insides. She wants to be able to want and receive; the only people in her way are the zombies. She hates them.

(Sarah is a glutton at heart, and she's starving from the inside out.)

Sin, sin, it's sin. She doesn't know what to do without it.

They said the cure would get rid of them, those seven deadly sins. It didn't.