pandora//h.s

one

I've always been obsessed with greek mythology. Zeus, Athena, gods and goddesses. It was fully inherited by my father, Narcissus, it was one of the few things that we could actually bond over.

My father was a wonderful man, with a harrowing past.

He has always refused to tell me what he did, or anything from his past, except his love for mythology, but the secrets affect every aspect of my life, having to move every few months was possibly the worst part of it.

I grew up mostly in Italy, we would move to other countries for a few months but we would always for certain come back to Italy. Even if it was in a small country cottage like this one.

However, everything my father did in the past, doesn't change the fact that he does everything to make sure me and my sister are happy and comfortable where we are. But it did certainly put a strain our relationship.

Usually like all kept secrets do.

In in small cottage in Italy, I lay under a tree, perhaps an apple tree, it bore fruit, but we weren't here long enough to see what they were, with a small book in hand, my sister had her head on my lap, with a book of her own, the soft winter air brushed against my hair, it was chilly, but nothing a coat and some tea couldnt fix for us.

My father always encouraged Hestia and I to read, and ever since we were small children, we read like bookworms, starved for words.

We could go from the oldest of classics to maybe Percy Jackson. My father thought it was dishonorable towards the actual greek mythology and culture, but I rather enjoyed it.

I was fluent in Italian, it was my mother tongue, but my father insisted we learn english for the sake of others.

Americans never knew when to shut up and keep to themselves, it was more of a protection mechanism then something my father did to push us away from the Italian language.

My sister Hestia, loved romance classics and adored little women, she loved being independent, like Jo, but she was a small girl, she always had been since birth, and said because she wasnt tall and confident enough, she could never be like her.

I try and explain to her that she could be whoever she wanted if she put her mind to it, but she's young, and has time to figure what what she wants from life.

She's only fifteen now, but she could pass for eleven or twelve. She barely spoke, too traumatized from mean children and traumatic events to form word, but she was kind and had a soft voice that could mimic the best singers in the world.

She was a very talented girl, in almost everything she ever did, cooking, singing, learning new languages, mythology and history. I made sure she knew she was a incredible person.

My father and her mother had met briefly when she was a few days old so her mother could get rid of her, I was only four and my sister about two months, from what my father tells me, It must have been traumatizing for my sister, even when she didn't know her mother.

Parents dont think about the psychological consequences of their actions and how they could affect their children in the long run.

I, on the other hand, I have never met my mother, she was gone the second I was born, leaving me with only my father, and I was okay, not completely happy, but okay with it, I didn't feel the need for a mother anyways, and my sister had me as a motherly figure.

 I tried my best to be who I needed when i was her age, and that was emotional support and someone to rely on.

I basically raised her in who she is now, she makes me proud and surprised with all the strength she has, being as small but confident as she is.