Goddess of War

Goddess of War | 4

Athena POV

Darkness surrounds  me until I jolt awake with a groan. Memories of yesterday filled my mind. First the ridiculous order from Timothy and then the lovely father daughter time with James. Could my life get any better?

I put my arm on the ground behind me, attempting to get up, but wincing as soon as I do. I pull my shirt up slightly to examine the damage. My ribs and stomach had blue and purple bruises littered across adorned with cuts and dry blood. Rolling my eyes I let my shirt fall back over my stomach as I finally drag myself to my feet.

Looking around I realize the house is silent and dark. Eery looking almost. I walk into the kitchen to grab some water and advil, since I knew walking up the stairs at the moment would not work out well.

Walking in, I turn to look at the clock on the wall seeing it is 4 A.M. "Lovely," I mutter to myself while grabbing a glass from the cupboard. Me and James lived in a relatively nice house. It was the house I grew up in. Filled with both the happiest and unhappiest memories.

Paying the taxes and bills had always been a struggle. James stopped working and helping out all together at some point in time so it was left to me. I had done the best I could but was barely meeting meets end. I was going days without eating meals just so I could save up enough.

Eventually Uncle Kenji noticed how much I was struggling. I was loosing a lot of weight, and moving slower and slower each week. He realized the problem without having me say anything.

He picked me up from my house one day and took me out to get some food. I had never eaten as fast as I did in that moment. I scarfed down my food like some caveman while Uncle Kenji looked at me sadly, partially realizing the life I was living. He decided that he would start paying for the house. The mortgage that was left, the property taxes, the water and electricity bills. Everything.

I told him I had it under control even though I knew I didn't. I hated having to get help from others. It made me feel weak. Even though I told him not to he decided to anyways so that I could keep the house I grew up in. He reasoned with me saying I could pay for groceries, but if I ever needed help to reach out, which I obviously wouldn't.

There had been times that I was struggling after this and had to ration my food, but still never reached out to him. He has already helped me enough. Acting like some sort of father figure and best friend all in one. I was beyond thankful to the man. I wasn't sure what he did for work exactly. He lived near by us but seemed to have money pouring out of his ass.

I tried asking him once but he said he just worked for some business. It seemed as though he didn't want to go into detail about it so I never pried but am still curious to this day.

Compared to other kids my age, I had to grow up a lot faster.

Taking care of the house, and picking up after James, all while getting myself through school and the orders from Timothy. I was struggling, but would never outright admit it. I hated talking about myself and my problems. Instead I bottled it all in and took out my frustrations elsewhere.

Fighting over the weekends helped a lot but it was never enough. I needed everything out of my system. I needed to go to the extremes just to let my bottled up rage and sadness slowly seep out of me. When I got to know Ellie and her brother they told me about how they spent their weekends.

Typically it was with family or nice innocent fun. Many nights though they would go out and soar on the highways of Jersey on bikes. Some nights they would even sneak out to go to some illegal races. That peaked my interest immediately. They took me to one that same weekend and the thrill of it all had me on the edge of my seat. Both David and Ellie would participate and were apart of some of the best racers.

Immediately I knew I wanted to join in on the fun. They would let me in either of their cars while they drove and sometimes would let me enter using one of theirs. At first I was a little rocky, trying my best to get a feel for the curves on the road, the sharp turns, the other cars driving inches away.

Soon enough I craved it. I would speed in front of the others, drifting corners like it was nobodies business, and racing through the finish line. Most people would be terrified doing what I did on these tracks.  I think it was because I had no regard for my own life. I was already living a shit life, trapped in something that made me numb.

I didn't care what happened to me, as long as I felt a rush. That's why I was so good though, and even became one of the top racers around Westwood.

After grabbing my Advil and slowly making my way upstairs I went to my room. I threw my bag on my bed, deciding not to sleep since I would have to leave for school in a few hours anyways.

I took a seat at my desk, pulling out my journal. My other, and more healthy purging method. I let everything out in these entries. The good, the bad, the nasty. It was the only place I could be myself besides in my head. No one knew what went on up there and I wouldn't let them in. My journal was the only place that fully embraced and accepted my thoughts and history without judgment which I loved.

I opened up a new page and grabbed my pen. Taking a sip of water, I started writing. Every thought, emotion, regret, hope that I may have had in the day.

Dear Journal,
Today was hard. Not as hard as some days, but I still had a hard time. I saw my friends which helped me breathe during the day and feel at peace during school, but once I left I felt numb again. I saw Timothy today. That asshole is having me deliver semi-automatics to some dangerous people in the city Friday. I don't even know who they are, but he pretty much said I could die.

Isn't that great? In all honesty it wouldn't be the worst though. I would feel bad for Uncle Kenji and my friends don't get me wrong.

I know they love me but sometimes it doesn't feel like its enough to keep me going.When I'm with them all I can feel a little. Breathe more. Allow for hope. But once their gone and I'm left with my thoughts, I become numb again. Numb to my life.

Does that make me a shitty person? I mean it probably does. I just don't know how much longer I can be trapped in this life. A revolving cycle of hell with Timothy and James.

On the topic of James, that motherfucker was drunk again tonight. Trust me I'm not surprised, but just tired of it. Im littered in more bruises again. All over my stomach, sides and back. I can even feel some forming on my legs and arms. Do I deserve this? Is this some sort of divine punishment for being born and being named after a Goddess?

I know Athena is the Goddess of War, but sometimes I don't think I have it in me to be a warrior and continue to fight. Uncle Kenji calls me warrior at times but I want to laugh when he does. I'm no warrior. I'm just a girl trapped in a life that forces me to fight to survive.

At times I want to give up that fight though. I don't know how much longer I can be doing this. I still owe a shit load of money to Timothy, and James seems to have forgotten all about it since he doesn't help at all.

It feels as if I'm drowning at times. I'm going to be paying Timothy back forever and have no choice but to continue going on these useless errands for him and fighting almost every weekend tooth and nail just to get a few thousand if even.

I give myself until the end of summer. I'll write to you until the end of summer. I'll make memories with Ellie, Carson, David, Kai, Blair and Uncle Kenji
Maybe even with Timothy and James. I'll make sure to burn my image in their minds so they remember who I am and how they ruined me.

I'll make sure to go out with a bang though don't worry. My name will be all over the news at the end of summer.

"Athena Claire Esme dead at age 18" will headline newspapers and TV's.

I hope you'll be proud of me Journal. You have been with me since the beginning. Listening and absorbing everything I have to say. I'm grateful to you. Your the only one I can count on.
Lots of Love,
Athena Claire Esme

With that I close my journal and put it back in its usual hiding place, under a floor board beneath my desk. I start on some assignment due by the end of the week. Working until I get to go to school again. Thinking about Friday fills me with dread. I have a bad feeling but am not sure why.

Can't wait to see what that day has in store for me. Surely it can't be as bad as my life has been thus far.