June 11, 983
Seven o'clock
I rarely dress myself up. Majority of my wardrobe is denim. Scruffy denim dresses, my pathetic overalls, jeans, denim skirts. It's terrible and disgusting, but it is all I feel comfortable in. And everything terrible that happens, I'm wearing one of those pathetic things. To prevent chaos and disaster, for my fifteenth birthday I'm wearing a dress. It's a decently cute dress, too. Large flowers encircle the surface of it with hues of blue and purple and fragile layers of yellow. I smile at the fabric and look around the kitchen. For I have never spent a single birthday without my family, this one intends to be no different. Mom baked me a cake, simple as vanilla. I like things simple, but the thing is-nothing about me is simple. I overthink, my thoughts are so complex they consume me. But I decide that I cannot allow these thoughts to eat me alive on my birthday. Mom sets the cake in front me, fifteen candles are lit on top of it.
"Make a wish, Helena," she instructs and clasps her hands to her heart. I smile up at her and sweep my hair behind my back. My cheeks fill with warm air and my lungs fill with fire. I exhale the last bit of breath and the candles smoke out. I realize, only after I was caught in the moment, that I forgot to make a wish. I sigh, for there is many more years for me to make wishes.
"One half done, one half to go!" Artemis teases and punches my arm. Mom screeches and pulls his sleeve so hard, he almost topples to the ground. Dad's face grows cold and he spits at Artemis. "What the hell?" He cries out, both of them stare at Artemis with glowering, cold, grey expressions. His fingers fly to his mouth, "You never told her!"
"Artemis! We-," Dad begins.
"Tell me what?" I interrupt. My finger fidget in my lap, I feel bile climb loosely up my throat. Mom chokes on her tears and leans beside me, she grabs my wrists and examines my bands. I've gone up another few ranks, I'm at Super Bender currently. Only ranks above this are rumored. No one my size or age should inhabit this much magical power. Mom strokes my bands, tears plop onto my skin and sizzle salty.
"Artemis is right," she whispers, "we have to tell you. I'm sorry we've kept it from you."
"No, no, its okay! Just tell me!" I coax.
"Helena," she sighs, "you are life."
"Life?" I mumble out stupidly. But at the same time, it makes sense. It feels grey inside my mind and the thought corrupts the color in my brain.
"Since you are life, you also are death," she tells me, "I know exactly when you will die, I know exactly why you will die, and I know it's our own fault you will die."
"No," I whisper, "I don't believe you guys. You wouldn't know, I'm not dying."
"You will die on your thirtieth birthday," she says.
"One half," I mumble, then I add and look up to Artemis, "I've wasted."
"You've been cursed to die the second you were born! Because you're life, Helena, it's you who controls the breath of us, the way the tide rises and falls, the way a peony opens in the spring. For you are life herself, but at the same time you inhabit death."
I push the cake away, tears line the base of my eyes, "My eyes are cursed because they are the window to my soul. My soul is cursed; my existence is cursed," I weep and add: "Excuse me!" I fling myself from the dining table and run to my bedroom. I shut the door behind me and lock it, I slide my back against the wood until I reach the floor. I balance by head between knees. Globs of tears stream from my eyes and slide down my cheeks until my pupils burn from being so salty. The inside of my throat is raw and burning from gagging on my mucus tears. I pick my head up and gaze out the window, I tilt my face and smile a bit at Oliver's face resting against my windowsill.
