The Retellings

Who's the victim?

The cold stone wall pressed against Perseus' body. It was his only way to ground himself and reassured himself that what was in front of him was no illusion. His breaths were short and staggering from the fear gripping tightly around his diaphragm. The entire cave was filled with the stench of rotting flesh and the excrement of bats.

 
Sickly green snakes slithered across the head of a pale woman. Illuminated by the light of Perseus' fallen torch, he could see her through the reflection of his shield resting against a statue of a man dressed in royal armour. Each gasp of breath from her was dry, and the air scraped against her parched throat.

Perseus swallowed down the rising fear boiling in his stomach. The handle of Hermes' sword was drenched in sweat and pushed against the calluses on his fingers.

"I," she took a deep haggard breath, "Know you're there."

The blood inside Perseus' veins ran cold and goose bumps erupted across his neck and down his biceps. A drop of sweat rolled down the back of his neck and dripped to the stone floor. He needed to kill her. It was more than a matter of honour; it was to save his mother from his perverted Polydectes. It was to protect the only family member that stayed by his side. 

"You were sent by her, weren't you?"

Perseus knew who she was talking about. Athena, the goddess herself had warned Perseus about Gordon residing inside the abandoned cave. But there was a strange look in the goddess' eyes when she told the hero about the monster. Was it regretful? Anger? Disgust?

"Hero," Perseus snapped back from the memory and glared at the scaly eyes looking at him. The snake hissed in anger before one of his companions hissed at Perseus too. The hero pressed back harder.

"Before you kill me. Will you tell me, who did it? "

Perseus furrowed his dark brown brows beneath the helmet of Hades. Who did it? What did she mean?

"Who made me like this?"

Back in Seriphus, the youths would tell stories of the gorgons and their horrid manners. They were ugly serpent-like sisters that dwelled together and enjoyed nothing more than causing misery. But has Medusa always been a gorgon?

"It was Poseidon!" The serpents hissed, and the woman threw her body forward in pain and agony. She slammed her bleeding fists into the cave floor. "He did this!" her voice broke as the tears forced their way through her.

Perseus swallowed again, he pulled in his knees and got into a crouching position.

"Did what?"

In a flash, Medusa slithered to Perseus' place next to the wall, but he quickly rolled away to hide behind another statue, this was one of a little boy forced to cry until his stone body broke apart. Medusa wrapped her hands around the stone man's neck. She licked his dry cheek and squeezed harder until the terrified expression frozen on the statue's face started to crack. The poor youth broke off bit by bit until all that stood was his decapitated body.

"He forced himself onto me!"

She let out a broken cackle. Perseus gripped the sword tighter. She was in his line of sight, her back to him and fully vulnerable. Her chapped lips quickly closed, and she slowly turned her head to the heavens. Perseus carefully retreated and pushed out the shining shield to view the serpentine woman. Thick tears rolled down her pale scally skin.

"But I liked it?" The snakes slithered around her neck, some rolled in her tears and others licked at her skin. "Did I like it? Did I ask for it? I... I can't remember."

Perseus' shoulders lowered and the tip of the sword clicked against the wet stone floor.

"Augh!" Medusa's voice scrapped against her throat as she let out a blood-churning scream. She grabbed one of the snakes' heads and pulled and pulled till the serpent broke loose. It withered in her grip and let out broken hisses. "Were you a gift or a curse?"

A trail of blood rolled down the exposed flesh and dripped down her face.

Her shoulders shook as the tears became worse and it became harder to breathe for the broken monster.

"I... I don't know anymore. Did I deserve this? Should I be mad? My goddess, my Athena, did you do this to punish me? I can plead for forgiveness. Or is this a gift? A gift of isolation and loneliness. Or was this my sword, to protect me from the god's horrible touches? Did his hands burn my virgin skin? Or did I revel in each lustful gaze? I cannot remember. I don't want to remember."

She threw the severed head of the serpent away and covered her eyes with her bloodied hands. Perseus lowered his shield and stalked to the weeping woman. The snakes hissed and warned their master, but she ignored the withering snakes. Perseus placed his sword on her shoulder. She threw her head up to the heavens again but closed her eyes to the hero. It was surrender.
Perseus pulled the sword back and with all his might sliced through the gorgon's neck. He watched the body fall with a clear expression.

In truth, it didn't matter who was the victim and who was the perpetrator. It didn't matter if it was a gift or a curse. It didn't matter if Athena is to blame or praise. Because in the end, all truth that remains is that Perseus will always be the hero in every telling of the story.