The Greek God

3

My alarm blasted and I slammed it. Groaning I look up and saw it was 6:30, causing me to groan even louder. I got up and went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. As soon as I glanced at the mirror. I died. My short hair was a tumbleweed and dried saliva all over the place, cheeks and chin. Thank god I didn't have any under eyes, good thinking I inherited it from my mother. I hopped into the shower and after twenty minutes, I was good as new.

I came out of the shower and put on my underwear, leaving my hair dripping And walked out.

Because it was my first day, I wanted to leave a good impression, I wanted heads to turn. So, I decided to go with a light blue cropped jumper along with some high wasted long white jeans, and some black military boots. As soon as I finished with the jewelry (a few rings and a pair of earrings) my hair was fully dried. I grabbed my black bag and hung it on my shoulder, noticing that my rib cage tattoo was exposed.

E. J. W
2000 - 2018

My eyes stung when I saw it, just like all the other times.

E. J. W stands for Emilia Jimenez Watson. Just like me, she was bilingual. She was my best friend, she was my sister.

Was.

She was very innocent and naive. She fell for, Mateo, my stepbrother's spell and got her heart broken.

They dated for two months until she lost her virginity to him. He then revealed to her that he only wanted to get into her pants, and humiliated her publicly. They recorded it and posted it on the internet. She was so ashamed of herself. Blaming herself.

She stopped eating, she stopped talking. She stopped living.

She didn't speak to me for three days. They found her body the next day in the river bank.

She killed herself.

I can't get that image out of my brain.

Ever since then, I fell into a downward spiral. I started taking drugs and consumed alcohol. Every night, I would climb drunk or high into my room and ignore my step mother's bickering. One night, the fight went out of hand and I threw her against the wall. She mentioned Emília, calling her a whore for seducing her son and that pissed me off. Later that night, I began cutting myself.

Cut. Cry. High. Cut. Cry. High.

That was my routine every single day.

That wasn't the worst part. Mateo began to sexually harass me in any possible way.

There were night were he would go into my room, threaten to rape me if I screamed, and slept by my side, groping me. I told my father and ignored me. Emilio told my step mother that I was going into his room and molested him. Ever since then, she would call me a whore and insult me and Emília.

On her death anniversary, Mateo was caught by his mother in my room as he was about to rape me. But he twisted the story saying that I lured him into my room to seduce him. That was the night of Emilia's death anniversary. That was the night I overdosed. When I woke up crying on the hospital bed, no one was there. Not even my father. The doctor told me I was dead for five minutes, and during that time, I saw Emília. Crying. She told me to stop destroying myself and be strong.

Ever since then, I haven't touched alcohol, drugs, and haven't cut myself, and my scars healed to the point they weren't noticeable. But since that day, my hate towards bad boys began.