Daughter of Ykaia

1

My life was normal as it could be, until a Thursday in July.

I was walking home from school, my broken Converse shoes stomping on the sidewalk, and my old backpack slipping off from my shoulder.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm not rich.

My old phone that I found/stole/fixed was out in front of me, and I was texting a girl named Annie, asking if she could drive me to school tomorrow from our normal spot.

Annie and I aren't really friends. I think that she just feels bad for me, and I need her to help me get to school and stuff like that. Annie was the popular girl who was surprisingly nice, with a hot boyfriend named Mike.

At that point, I was wrapping it up with the casual talk to you later, and I slid my phone in my pocket on my shorts. I adjusted the backpack on my t-shirt, since it was rubbing into my shoulder. While I was doing that, I also wiped a little bit of sweat off my face, which was from 2 things: 1st, the long walk home, and 2nd, the summer heat.

While I was walking, I was pondering my life. Wow, that sounds very Zen of me. What I was actually thinking about was if my mom would be able to sign my Field Trip form that I was carrying home in my backpack.

Now, I didn't want to go on the Field Trip to the Art Museum, but I didn't want to be singled out again. That's something that most adults don't understand about me or other teenagers. Sometimes, we don't want to be called on, or answer a question. Sometimes we want to just stay in the back, and try to forget about the problems at home, school, or something else.

And lucky me, I was going to go on this Field Trip with the worst teacher of all time. Mr. Happy.

Don't be fooled by his name. He is the opposite of happy. He reminds me of one of those old teachers who raps people's hands with rulers. Lucky us, he didn't do that. Unfortunately for us, he sometimes does worse stuff.

I crossed the bench that had a faded GET GLASSES HERE! sign. No one had sat on it for a while, so it was where I usually hung out to get away from my mom.

After a few more minutes of walking, I got to my apartment. It's actually me and my mom's apartment, but I'm the one who takes care of it and does all of that stuff, even when I'm supposed to be the one that's taken care of, since I'm only 13.

It was a normal apartment, except for how old it looked. The door to the building was first painted yellow, but after years and years of usage it became brown. The WELCOME carpet was a moldy yellow color. You could only faintly see WECOE, since the other colors in WELCOME were faded out.

I stepped on the mat and walked into the place I had lived all my life. I walked up the rusty steps and onto floor 2. I then got to my pale blue door and stepped inside.

Instead of being greeted by the normal couch and TV, I found something I didn't expect.

The light was flickering, and the TV was scratched and in pieces. The couch was also scratched up, but I could tell from a quick inspection that there was also blood on it.

After a second of me standing there, surprised, reality stepped in. I had to call 911.

Everyone as a kid was told to call 911 if there's an emergency, but they never said anything about what you should do if an ancient Greek monster is the emergency.

I pulled out my phone and I was about to call the police when I heard some laughing.

I turned around quickly, and prayed that a miracle would happen. Spoiler, it didn't.

The mysterious person or thing stepped out from behind the scratched up couch. The monster must have been hiding behind it. I took a step back in surprise when I saw who, or what, stepped into the light.