My breath catches in my throat as I reach forward to touch the statue of a boy in front of me. It looks like his skin should be as soft as a cloud, warm to the touch and smooth, but once my fingers touch the round cheek I know that it is as hard as any other stone.
His hair looks freshly washed and curled around his cherubic face, his round face reminded me of Eros in his child's form. The curls looked slightly tussled in the wind that was whispering over my skin as I looked at the statue. I wanted to brush on curl out of his face so that it wouldn't blow into his eyes; but it was immovable and would never change.
His tunic was blowing in the wind too, whipping around his legs as if it was really cloth held captive in a single moment. I tried to think of compliments for the maker who must be very skilled to create such realism, but the lies wouldn't even form in my mind.
I tried not to notice his wide, scared eyes or how he looked on the verge of flight. It was too late for running away. Can't run from the monster now. Still as stone. Forever.
For a monster I now was. Before I could believe that I was just a betrayed victim and the other statues that stand around my home are testimony to the fact that I can protect myself now. They all had come to kill me. Pity is something I can't feel for those hard men, whose bodies now reflect the state of their hearts.
Now though, with this frightened boy statue in front of me. I curse myself to the deepest pits of Tartarus. He was an innocent. Lost and frightened. I saw his brown hair and tanned skin before they melted into the color of cold grey stone. I heard his soft cry of fear when he stumbled upon my resting spot.
He was a boy. Now he is just a cold statue. Never to laugh and play again. Never to feel the cool wind on his skin or the glow of Helios's light. Never to feel the soft embrace of his mother. Never to grow older and find another kind of embrace with a different woman.
Because of me. I had stolen his future. I had stolen his life. His innocent life.
With just a glance with my poisonous green eyes, I had killed him. I had become a monster. The tears came unbidden, slow and silent, as I tried to brush that lock of hair out of his face. If only it would move. If only he would live.
I almost wished that my tears would be acid as the stories say, that they would burn tracks into my skin so that the world could see the suffering inside my soul. However, they are just normal tears. Salty as the sea and cool on my cheeks. Normal tears from what had once been a normal girl.
I hadn't always been a monster. My eyes were brown once, my hair was long and golden. My snakes hiss as if they knew I was thinking about who I was before that night in the temple. They curl around each other and slither over my shoulders, their soft hissing echoes the sadness in my heart. I wasn't always a monster. I was once just a girl, who was born of Titans blood and betrayed by the gods I thought were my friends.
I was once named Medusa. Now the only name I hear is Monster.