Ursula K. Le Guin wrote a short story, “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas”. I can't read it without internally screaming in horror. The suffering child scapegoat in that story is me.
That's me in the Underworld cage where they put me. Guarded by demons against all attempts at soul retrieval. Siphoned, eaten, raped, and tortured for the sins of the soul-rapers who dance merrily in the sunshine.
A bound, caged spirit. An enslaved energy source.
Every gain and victory they made at her expense - making her transmute their karma so that they could fly while she sank deeper into the Underworld - became the building blocks of their Tower.
The Tower can take you take great heights before lightning strikes it. That's why it's a tower.
Her blood, tears, and crushed-up bone dust went into the brick and cement of The Tower they built, that glittering utopia of Omelas.
When she takes it back, the lightning will strike and the whole Tower will come crashing down.