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His movements were deliberate and smooth, almost as if this was a ritual he had done many times before.
My son was so brave in the face of pain and remorse. He acknowledged his mistakes and sought atonement for them through self-sacrifice. I found myself inexplicably proud of him for this even though I wanted nothing more than to run out there and stop him from hurting himself further.
Maybe I’m just as demented as his father.
He began to mutter words I could not understand. He lifted his arms towards the heavens above, his eyes closed in concentration, his body shaking and wracked with sobs. I could feel the emotions emanating from him, feel his sorrow and remorse as if they were my own. His anguished plea cut through the night air, a plea for forgiveness that would not be granted.
And then, with a heavy heart, I turned away from the window and went to bed, hoping that whatever future awaited my son, it would be one he could bear.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
What kind of mother would allow this? What kind of father would expect this? What could a boy do that would make him feel he needed to seek penance? Although I grew up in an abusive household, something about this seems so much worse. I feel for Phoenix, but it also helps me understand him more. Maybe that’s why our connection is so strong. The pain of our past is pulling us together.
Not wanting to read any more about Phoenix and the abuse he went through, I skip a few pages of the journal, with the intention of reading something else. Anything other than the awful tree of forgiveness that remains on the property even now.
Why hasn’t anyone chopped it down?
Dear Diary,
I watched my husband attack his brother today. I wasn’t surprised as I’ve always seen the hatred Troy has for Leander. But today... if it wasn’t for Ares stepping in between the two of them, I fear they would have fought to the death.
The tension in the room was palpable and everyone in the family was on edge, expecting a fight to break out at any moment. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief when Ares stepped in and stopped the violence.
But I feel as if this is just the beginning of something terrible. I feel a darkness looming over us, like a storm cloud waiting to unleash its full power. I’m afraid what will come next.
“Medusa Enterprises is mine,” Troy said. “Mine.”
“And Poseidon is mine,” Leander boomed back. “You stay in Seattle, and I’ll stay in Heathens Hollow.”
“Poseidon is only a division of Medusa Enterprises,” Troy said as he took a menacing step toward Leander.
“I don’t give a fuck. You manage your part of the business, and I’ll manage mine,” Leander countered.
I could feel the hatred between them, and it was so thick that I almost couldn’t breathe. The thought of these two coming to blows was terrifying. Troy had always been hot-tempered, but Leander was no slouch either. I knew that if they did actually fight, one of them could easily get seriously hurt.
And then Apollo stepped in. He said something calming, something that made both brothers pause and take a deep breath. He spoke in a gentle yet firm tone, reminding them that they were Godwins and that they needed to be more reasonable. There was plenty of the family legacy to go around. Apollo reminded them that their father, Cronus, wouldn’t want them to divide the family empire. That they should fight their enemies united.
I was thankful that Apollo and Ares were there, but I was still filled with so much dread. I have a feeling that this won’t be the last time I’ll see Troy and Leander face off.
Damn. This family is fucked up.
Growing up on Heathens Hollow, where Poseidon is the main industry for the workers here, we have always known that Leander Godwin is the king. He isn’t a man to mess with, and everyone knows that Poseidon isn’t exactly on the up and up, though no one, not even the sheriff will question him.
I glance up at the clock. I’ve been reading for longer than I intended, but it’s so captivating. It’s truly a book I can’t put down. I don’t know if it’s just that I’m entertained or if I’m actually trying to find out more about Phoenix. Maybe deep down, I’m trying to find something that can help me connect to the man more, rather than having him push me away.
Dear Diary,
My son hasn’t left his room in days. I know it’s normal for pre-teen boys to be moody, sullen, even distant. But Phoenix is different. He hasn’t left the house in I don’t know how long, and he seems content to simply be locked away within the walls of Olympus Manor.
