Angie hugged her knees. Her head rang from the many tears that fell.
Again, the image of Eros' pinched brows and hard eyes running over her naked body smothered with honey and skittles and peanut butter stabbed her thoughts. Her chin had oozed with cake, milk and who knows what other things they cooked up.
She screamed, no longer caring that her dad heard her anymore. How Angie hated herself. She grabbed handfuls of hair, twined them around and around her fingers and yanked hard. Hot stings in her scalp made her flinch and she stopped, screaming out again.
"Why? Why oh why did you do this? Why?" Angie trembled. She was freezing, which was stupid since it was near summer anyway. The four quilts did nothing to keep her warm. She thought of Eros again, how he marched over to her, his lip curled in disgust as he said, "What kind of jest do you put on me, Angelina?"
Oh, how that was her undoing. How humiliating to have gone through that to begin with. To endure such cruelty. To be shoved into a bathroom where Eros wrapped tongues with the very girl who invited her!
She could still hear Candi's laughter, her arms tight around Eros' narrow waist, her fingers gliding against his rippling abdomen. "She just wants your attention, Eros. That's what crazy American girls end up doing if they want you that badly."
The door slammed behind them as they left Angelina sinking to the floor, her voice crescendoing into a wail.
"I hate you!" Angie flung her arms about, thrashing under the covers. "I hate you!" She stopped, her hair a wild clump on her face.
A timid knock sounded on her door. "Angie? Can I come in, please?"
"No," Angie barked out, her voice hoarse from too much crying.
"But you've been in there for two days."
"Go away."
"C'mon, Ang, please?"
Angie flipped to her side, the alarm clock announcing dinner time. Her stomach growled. She would not eat.
"You haven't eaten since that night. Please open the door. I have chicken noodle soup for you."
Angie screwed her eyes shut, biting her lip so hard it split. She gasped. Her lips were chapped anyway.
"I have a tall glass of water," Shay sang out, tapping the bottle with a light sound. "C'mon, Ang! You got to let someone in before your dad calls the medics to come and check on you. You know he will. He's worried about you." Silence but for her heavy breathing. "I'm worried about you."
Angie listened to Shay's voice crack and she cringed. It was never her intention to hurt others, but she couldn't help herself anymore. One thing rolled into another so fast that it was too late to back out now. She couldn't undo her ill-treatment of everyone around her until her own feelings healed.
"Ang?" Soft, teary, choked.
Still, Angie did not relent. She kicked her feet over the bed and glared at them. She could see the red streaks—a stark contrast from her too-white legs—from where she had scratched herself to near shreds from self-loathing. And the bruises from being pushed down the stairs. How she still ached!
The moon's soft glow floated through her curtains, calling out to her. She shuddered, and despite her self-deprecation, eased from the bed and shuffled to the window. Moaning and groaning and grunting. Angie laughed at herself. She sounded like an old lady.
Angie eased open the French doors and stepped onto the balcony. The balmy night kissed her hot cheeks, the pleasant fragrance of lilacs incensed the air. She bent at her waist, her chin on knotted hands, and leaned forward upon the railing.
YOU ARE READING
Eros
Teen FictionThe merciless goddess of love Aphrodite has set her son up for failure when she sends him into modern-day times to find a girl who would spite him. Only then can he return to his home, Mount Olympus. But who can resist a tall, muscular, blond and bl...