Aphrodite Kensington is a lot of things.
She's a princess, the life of the party, most skilled in combat, she's the strongest . . .
She's a liar.
Not only had she convinced herself that her lie was true, she convinced her family of it too. She nev...
"I got high because I wanted to. Then it became a habit. Then it became necessity."
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TW: Drug use
I thought I was getting better. I had been struggling these last few weeks since I'd been back. Touch scares me. I flinch if I think someone is getting to close. I can't handle touch unless I'm the one who initiates it first.
I wish I reacted to things normally, but it's like I'm hypersensitive to every little thing around me.
Why did he have to push me like that? It was like Atlas engraved his finger prints in the skin of my chest. And even though I knew it was him who pushed me, him who touched me, I felt Mikhail's hands on me. And no matter how much I showered and scrubbed my chest until it was red and raw, I couldn't stop feeling him all over me.
"Ares? Are you alright, it sounds like you're crying." Reagan says from the other side of the bathroom door. I hadn't even noticed I was crying, more like sobbing as I scratched at my chest, trying to feel something other than Mikhail's hands on my body.
"I'm okay." I croak back, trying to be louder than the noise of the shower.
"Is it okay if I come in, to make sure?"
"No, the door is locked. I'll be out in a second." I tell him.
After another minute I turn off the shower and step out. I walk and stand in the front of the mirror, wiping off the steam so I can see myself. Most of my chest is red, some parts of it bleeding, but not too terrible. I breathe out shaking my head. I hate this.
I slam my hand down on the counter, trying to get my anger out, before coming out of the bathroom.
When I step out, Reagan looks up at me from where he's laying from the bed, his eyes instantly widening before he gets up. "What happened?" He asked.
"I'm not in the mood to be coddled. I'm fine, this is fine, everything is fine." I stress, clearly agitated.
"You're not fine. You're bleeding." He steps forward, but I back away.
"Could you just leave me alone!" I finish putting on my clothes and start putting on my shoes.
"Where are you going?" He asks, trying to mask the annoyance in his tone, but I can tell I'm making him mad. I didn't want him to be angry, but I just needed to get out, fast. I didn't have time for him to pester me with questions and play nice, though I did appreciate his patience with me.
"Out." Is my short reply before I stalk out of my bedroom. This house was too cramped for me though it was a mansion. I was starting to feel trapped. I didn't want to feel trapped, or scared, or angry. I'd much rather feel good. Happy. Maybe even a little numb.
At this point I wasn't worried about being away from my siblings. The anger and the need to get away from here was more than that of my anxiety.
I got in my car and began to drive through the streets of Spain. I was tapping my thumbs against the steering wheel, turning the familiar corners that lead into the slums of downtown. I haven't been here since I was around thirteen. I wondered if the same people still hung out around here; more like hoping they did.
