Her story
She always thought home was an escape from school, but times changed, and school became an escape from home.
She found solace in books at school. She was never outright bullied, but having hardly any friends was just as depressing. She was considered a freak, a nerd. So her only solace became books. Tales of fantasy, of heroes fighting monsters, and overcoming them were enthralling to her.
She knew she was not normal. No normal 5 year old could do algebra; no normal five year old corrected her teacher on the proper usage of grammar.
Her social life dwindled to nothing. So she stayed at home, helping her father. Doing odd jobs in the neighbourhood was the only time she spent outside her house.
You could find her in the deep dusty shadows of the attic, her eyes lightening with joy as she devoured pages. Or perhaps she would be in her room, being quiet. She was a thoughtful child, full of thoughts, full of plans, full of questions. But no one was there to answer her.
Her grey eyes would analyze each and every movement, perhaps thinking of the best way to take you down in a fight. Those eyes were captivating. They sparkled with mischief when she laughed, yet they could frighten the life out of you. They could comfort you, and they could hurt you.
Her golden locks cascaded to her shoulder. They bounced with each step she took. They were gold, like her heart. They showed the brightness within, the purity in her soul. Such a naïve soul should not have had to face the hardships she went through.
One day, her father remarried. It was a huge ceremony, filled with love and serenity. But one little girl sobbed as she clutched a stuffed owl. It was her favourite, and her only one. She did not like to have many toys and bears and such, she only craved books. Knowledge. Escape.
History repeats itself. Helen of Troy was the cause of the Trojan War. And this Helen was the cause of the rift between a father and a daughter, who had not yet completely healed from the disappearance of the mother. Helen tried to take the place of a mother, but instead successfully became the evil step-mother. Helen tried, and faced failure. But she loved the old man too much, and not even a uncooperative daughter could change that.
The daughter mother bonding existed only in front of the father. But Helen grew hateful of the daughter. She knew she deserved more attention from the father, and thus a crack came in the family. Helen on one side, she on another, both of them hated it.
But they could do nothing. Soon she began to feel left out, unloved. All she wanted was a bit of love, a bit of pity, a bit of hope that goodness existed in the world. But she received nothing.
Time may heal wounds, but wounds not cleaned would blister and get infected as it was in this relationship.
The innocent little girl became not so innocent. She was seven now, big enough to take care of herself. She could no longer sit in the attic, the attic was now a room for her baby twin brothers. Her book collection no longer held the same excitement for her. So she went outside.
School became an escape from home. She didn't like home. Home comprised of an ignorant father, notorious twins who she loved with all her heart but the witch which turned a blind eye to her hurt her in many ways more than one. She wanted love. She needed love. What is the world without a little bit of love to live for? The world is not a wish granting factory. And so she never got love from her so called parents.
She gazed wistfully as Helen read bedtime stories to the twins, and as she kissed them goodnight. She wondered if she would ever find some loving parents.
Her eyes now glistened with tears. They no longer held the spark of living life, all they wanted to do now was find someone who would comfort her, she wanted her father back; The father who took her to old stuffy museums. She would tolerate anything for that one prideful look.
But she bided her time; she didn't want to run away. She was not the type of person who ran away from problems. She faced them head on. And so she rose to the challenge. She studied harder than ever. She wanted to build something permanent.
Then one morning, on a morning stroll through the park, she discovered a library. It was antique. It was perfect. It held a wealth of fantasy in every corner. It was dusty, but the fading carpet was all that she needed. She escaped from her world and was led to another. She found solace in its grips. She found herself doing odd jobs in the library.
And her persona changed. She was no longer a frightened little girl; she was a strong and capable child. She could manage. She gave up trying at her home, and started paying attention at school and studies although she already knew most of it.
She struck a conversation with another misfit at school. Time passed. She was never in the house now. She started fitting in. Her previously dwindling social life started brightening. She knew she could be a popular kid, but she was mature enough to know the difference. She had a friend and that was enough. She now found solace in school.
She dreaded the ringing of the bell. She dreaded walking the dreary path to her house. Consequently she hardly ever went. The house was now a hotel to her. She only visited it in times of need. Having a friend was all that she had needed. She didn't need anything else, or did she? She still craved her parents' approval.
And she gained it. She achieved great heights. She was a savior of Olympus. Her mother, Athena was proud.
But somewhere inside, a little girl cried, calling for a father that never came to check under the bed for monsters.