Spectator

VII

My bedroom is quite literally the attic. As soon as you climb those stairs, there is only one door which is to my room. I love the privacy that is offers me.

Shortly after the room is opened, you're eyes are blessed with countless books and artefacts from all over the globe. Sheer Moroccan fabric decorates my ceiling and Persian carpets make the room look full and lived in. A queen size bed sits unmade, offering enough room for my 5 foot ass to sleep comfortably in and dim Japanese lamps glow from near the built in set of bookshelves. However my most favourite part is the huge round window taking up the wall right at the back, it gives me a breathtaking view of Charleston which I can enjoy from my private enclosure.

Entering, I go past the window and drop my bag and coat off in their designated areas,  unlacing my shoes, once free of them. As soon as I'm barefoot, I feel the height difference. From 5'5 to 5'0. Remember Athena you are still the alpha.

Not willing to wait any longer, I strip the whole way to my bathroom, wanting to have a shower. The room is architectured with grey slate and monotonous shades, causing a calming effect on the eyes as they aren't exposed to bright colours. Turning on my shower, I poke a hand under the flow to check the temperature, hot. Like my smexy bodyy. Oh my gosh I have some wild thoughts sometimes.

I turn on my music and STFU by Mansionz starts to play into the Bluetooth speakers, just loud enough to be heard over the shower. I smile softly and hum the tune, happy that my Spotify for once chose the song I want to hear right now. I can't be the only one that skips all the songs can I?

My mirror starts to steam up and my windows, which are left wide open, become cloudy from the water evaporating. With great relief, my hair is let out of its tight hold and I run my thin, small fingers through the silky tresses and my pained scalp. Like a cat, my back arches in a soft stretch, the tension in my muscles causing me to pause as I struggle to reach satisfaction from it. With great annoyance, I make my way towards the large mirror which sits in front of my sink, my hair swaying down my hips and tickling my thighs. When, opposite the reflective glass, I wipe a section with my tattooed finger and take out my brown contacts. If only I had normal eyes then I wouldn't have to wear contacts everyday.

One eye like golden syrup and fire whisky and the other like a tropical adventure and crashing oceans stares at me through a hazy gaze. I sneer in disgust. Somewhere deep inside of me, I know they're not ugly, quite the opposite actually but my upbringing has painting this picture of pure disgust when it comes to my facial features.

My full pink lips part open from concentration as I take out my septum piercing, the Cupid bow shrinking and then widening as I close my mouth. Spinning around without wasting time, I step into the shower and the hot waterfall instantly covers me in a blanket hold, the warm humid air filling my lungs. Steadily,I release that breathe as my muscles relax under the firm but soft pressure of my shower.

The scent of peaches and pomegranate shower gel fills the warm bathroom and pulls me under a mystical spell as the smell of holidays and childhood floods my head. I watch with mild interest as white soap glides down my tanned legs and into the drain.

My hair is next to be washed as I squeeze a dime size of an almost masculine smelling shampoo into my hands, swapping that for my conditioner after.

My mind returns to warm holidays in Europe and strangely enough, I think about my first ever kiss.

The sun bathed my body in golden joy as I walked around holding hands with the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. He reminded me a bit of a girl with his soulful amber eyes and porcelain clear skin, free of any bruises and blemishes. He was beautiful and most people knew it but there was something else that had drawn me to him.

It was the sadness engraved into his soul; the minute our eyes had collided, it had felt like I truly found someone who understood. Someone who understood the pressure as a child for being perfect and the overly friendly adults trying to find information of our family out of us.  He understood.

I had breathed in a breathe of the sugar coated air and pulled him along, a smile on my face to my favourite spot, away from all adults and prying eyes.

The minute I saw him all dressed up, yearning for a good birthday that year, I knew I had to take him here. To my hidden spot.

My grandfather's Italian villa has always reminded me of fairytales and mystery and as an 11 year old, I was assured there were fairies in his garden. He used to have a huge willow tree and as a child I would feel safe and protected under it so that's we're I had taken him.

The wind blew softly, almost as if it knew we both needed nurturing as we lay in the grass, not bothered by our clothes getting dirty or how damp our skin became from nature's natural system. The heat we shared between our entwined palms was enough to warm our young hearts from the ice cold shields we were made to keep up since we could talk.

The smell of a fresh bloom curled into the air and the aftertaste of wild strawberries we had picked from my grandfathers garden lingered in our mouths. It was then when he had turned to look at me, eyes full of an unexplainable emotion when I knew. At the moment in time, this boy was my only friend in this illusion of a world. Sure there were people I loved as family but none I could talk to like this boy.

I had taken my hand of his and reached into my blue satin dress, feeling my fingers catch onto the latch which connected the chain I wore around my neck. It was a simple pretty thing, silver in colour with a small round coin attached to it. I knew it was the perfect gift.

When I had first turned up to the beautiful boy's party, I had realised I hadn't brought him something. I mean I had, but it wasn't meaningful and right. There, under the willow tree, I knew I had found it.

I unclasped the chain and handed it to him. "It's yours now."

He hadn't said anything as the emotions were so thick in the air and instead pulled my 11 year old self closer to him.

It wasn't quite like fireworks but it felt like the relief you got when you took off a heavy dress. His soft lips caressed mine with great care and uncertainty, holding me close as I was something valuable, worth being stolen.

Me being the idiot that I was, froze up, not having the words or the actions to explain how I felt. I now regret not enjoying that moment to the fullest. For that was the last time I had seen him. After that, life pulled us apart using its claws to break away the bond we shared as kids. Kids. Innocent and sweet. Kids. That had to grow up because society was unforgiving.

Sighing from the memory, I turn off my shower and head into my room. I have a night full of Disney classics awaiting me.

✨
Who do you think Athena's first kiss was?