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Did I kill a man?
I sure as fuck did, and I’d do it again. He touched me. He made me feel dirty. Wrong. And for that, he had to pay.
I didn’t tell anyone besides Phoenix. Not because I was scared of going to jail or anything like that, but because I was embarrassed I let the man make me feel that way. I was ashamed of my momentary weakness. So, I regained my strength and pushed the fucker down the stairs, happy to hear his neck snap.
Can’t touch me again, motherfucker. Can you?
I don’t even try to stop the tears flowing down my face as I continue to read. Page after page of words all about how she was sorry she had to run. Apologies for how she failed us.
She spoke about me, Phoenix, Apollo, and Ares. But she also spoke of her new boys—Perseus, Heph, Eros, and Paris. She found these boys, raised them, loved them as her own. They didn’t have Godwin blood, and for that she was grateful. These boys would someday serve a purpose, however. With the kindness and support only a mother could give, she created an army meant for only one purpose. To protect her only daughter once she got me out of my father’s clutches.
The sun has set before I leave the study for the night with a heavy weight on my heart. My head aches, and my soul has been torn to shreds, but I realize a few important things. I don’t hate my mother. I don’t resent her for leaving any longer. That wasn’t what was fueling this mission. I missed her. When she left, there was a hole carved into my heart, and it had never scarred over.
I sit on my bed, and for the first time in a long while, I cry everything out.
I don’t know how long it’s been when the tears fade. All I know is my head is pounding, my throat feels thick, and I need to know more. She wrote that she sacrificed being my mother to keep me from a much darker life. What could have possibly been worse than believing that she chose to abandon me by killing herself?
I have all these questions in my head. They demand answers, but right now I just don’t have the strength to find them.
Chapter
Sixteen
Heph
Walking downstairs, I am psyching myself up for another day of giving the intruder hell. I’m thinking of all the things I can do when I find her sitting at the table staring at a piece of French toast. She isn’t touching it. Her juice is also untouched. I’m kind of surprised to see her here at all.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask.
“I live here. It’s my house.” Her words are right, but her tone is way off. There is no bite, no fight at all. She doesn’t even lift her head to look at me.
“I have more right to be here than do you,” I spit. Come on… let’s rumble.
“If you say so.” Again, no actual fire in her words.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Do you actually want to know?” She glances up to meet my gaze, and she looks terrible. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, her hair is limp, and her skin is a little gray.
“No.”
“Then please run along and go bother someone else. I’m not up for it today.”
For a second, I’m almost worried about her. I almost miss the banter and the spirit of our normal encounters, and I have to stop myself from asking who hurt her so I can go hurt them. My goal is to hurt her. I should revel in her misery, but all I can feel in this odd pang of guilt and worry settles into my chest.
“Shouldn’t you be out running?” I try.
“Not today.” Her voice sounds different, lifeless.
“Oh, what’s wrong? Did you break a nail, and your world came crashing down around you? Did Daddy yell at you for abandoning Medusa? Or maybe you didn’t get to come this morning as you fingered yourself because no man will go near you,” I taunt her, wanting her to lash out at me and show me she is all right.
Instead, she laughs – a high-pitched manic laugh that reminds me of the Joker.
“What the fuck is so funny?”
“You think I can’t get a man?” she says between peals of crazy laughter.
“Well, you’re here alone now, aren’t you? You spend every night in bed alone. You don’t go on dates. Clearly, no one wants you.”
She laughs harder, and I am confused.
“I’m sorry, but you have no idea what your little buddies do all day, do you?”
“Of course I do.” Now she is starting to piss me off. Good. Anger is easier to deal with then whatever unease I was feeling.
She laughs harder, and I cross my arms over my chest and hover over her, trying to intimidate her.
