Rewriting to improve writing.
"Gods are born out of the need of humans but they shall die at the hands of the ones they've wronged."
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
The world of demigods has never been a safe one, plagued by monsters, the wrath of gods, and the impending d...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
But my hands are bruised, shaking from pain I'll hold the sword for others, but for me-- who'll do the same?
༺♥༻ Tw- brief mention of abuse, a small fight scene. An adult.
The man- Taylor Swift
*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ It was a normal day, as normal as it could be for the girl. After packing lunch for her mother, who was slowly trying to start working to ease her back into the daily routine as much as possible, she immediately made her way to the neighbor's house to look after the kids.
It had been a miracle, but somehow her mother had improved in her delusions, and the doctors had confirmed that she was now on the route to healing from her condition, which was a very rare thing to happen. Even in the books the girl had read, she had read about how dementia/Alzheimer's patients never recovered and only got worse as time went on. Sometimes she hoped this change had occurred when she was younger and needed more of her mother, but she didn't complain. She didn't get to have her mother as a child, but she was happy she'd get to have her mother as an adult who would still need help.
The neighbor's kids were a delight to work with. The woman's husband had died a few years ago, and she had taken care of her stepson who was now around 5. She had a kid of her own with some man who had left them alone, but that kid was a delight as well.
The older one was named Jericho, a delightfully smart little boy who loved showing off his recent discoveries by running up to the girl and holding out his drawing book. He had a knack for working with his hands, his blue eyes twinkling whenever she praised him. When she had first come to babysit them, it had been after the birth of his brother, and she would still laugh at how Jericho had made her sit down to explain how babies were made. How mommies would go to the hospital and pick a baby who they liked. He looked so happy when he told her about his knowledge; she didn't have the heart to laugh and had instead just nodded.
On the other hand, the one-year-old Alex was a menace. Even though he could barely walk or talk, he seemed to catch on to exactly what to do to get his way quite easily. If she denied him some more milk or said she was too busy to play with him, he'd immediately pout and widen his big brown eyes while simultaneously placing his tiny hands on her knees or palms, constantly babbling. It was easy to convince her; she had a soft spot for little kids as adorable as little Alex and Jericho.
At the moment, the girl was sitting in the living room, helping Jericho with his task of making a Lego house while Alex napped in the cot, his little purple pacifier in his mouth as the thing gently swayed. It was easy to babysit the kids, but their mother had been pretty scared of leaving them alone for even a second since the disappearances had started. Many assumed it to be some serial killer, but she had a feeling it was something more. Once or twice, she looked out the window to see if one of the hallucinations she'd seen were out there again. Her lips pursed together as she got lost in thought, before a small hand on her knee made her look back.
