A Nymph's Liturgy

The loud sound of a groan filled my ear when my heel hit his foot hard. 

I was so angry that I turned away from the pathetic man, leaving him to suffer, and saw my dad talking to Grandma. 

She nodded along with whatever he was saying as they approached me. 

"We should head home now, there are many things we need to talk about. " 

Everything felt strange, and deep down, I had a strong feeling my birthday was going to end poorly again. 

I followed them into our limousine as we reached our fancy mansion. Dad was the first to turn around while Grandma took a seat next to him. 

"What is this about? " I asked as I shut the door behind me. 

"Go on, tell her Sebastian, she has the right to know before tomorrow," Grandma said, placing a small, brown book in her lap. 

"You are now eighteen, Serena. You have been given chances to show you're not following in her footsteps, and once again, you have failed," he said as he took out a photo from the table near him. 

He showed it to me; it was a picture of me sneaking out of his business partner's house. "How"- 

"See, Sebastian? The first thing out of her mouth is asking how they got this. 

This place will be great for her," I shot a glare at Grandma, who only looked at my dad. 

"What place? " I let the photo drop from my hands to the floor when he let out a sigh. 

"Your Grandma and I have decided to send you to Marblegate Academy. 

You are old enough now, and this school will help you stay focused on your studies"- 

"And teach you to pray for forgiveness for your terrible mistakes," she added, finishing his thought. 

"I'm not"- 

In this house, conversations always meant your words got cut off. 

"Don't even argue, because this decision is final. It has already been arranged, and your bags are already packed. "

"This isn't fair at all; you can't just send me across the world like this. Fuck!" I felt myself getting more and more frustrated.

They seemed eager to ship me off, as if they were waiting for me to make a mistake. 

He was sending me to a horrible place; Marblegate was a top boarding school and one of the best universities in the world.

 It was also famous for its focus on religious studies. 

It was the same school my mom went to, the same one I blamed for ruining her life. 

"Why not? You are showing signs of being just like her. Marblegate helped her, and it'll help you too.

 You'll continue with your English and Art majors there while also finding your way back to God," Grandma shot back quickly. 

"Helped? Helped her? Because of that school, she's dead," I held back tears that threatened to fall. 

"Serena"- 

"Don't talk about my daughter when you know nothing about her. " She rises to her feet. 

"You never even mention her, and when you do, it's to slut shame her. " I express my frustration by throwing my hands up. 

"One thing I know for sure is that apart from being a bad mother, you're why she can't even recall my name. " 

She puts her hand over her heart, surprised by what I said. 

"That's enough, Serena. We're done with this talk; your flight leaves tomorrow morning. " I see him walking up the white staircase, and then I hear the door to his office bang shut. 

Grandma glares at me, full of anger. 

"Even if she could remember you, she'd be upset by who you've become because you're just like her. "

"Maybe once you get to Marblegate, you'll learn some respect, something you both share. " She grabs her belongings and closes the door hard. 

Grandma has always been very religious, and when she discovered her daughter had what she calls the "devil's curse," she sent her straight to Marblegate. 

I never knew what happened during her time there; I still recall the warmth of her hugs when I was little. 

But I also remember the endless trips to the hospital and those late nights. 

Many would say if I wanted to see what she looked like, I should just look in the mirror. 

I looked like her exactly. 

From my fair golden skin to my long black hair that flowed down to my waist, with its natural waves. 

My eyes were two different colors: one like the afternoon sun shining through a glass of whiskey and the other like the deep ocean under the moon. 

The shape of my body, from my waist to my well-shaped breasts to my flat stomach, and the tattoos reading "Sere" on my left side, and a rose on my finger and wrist. 

Some would say my full lips seemed to crave everything I couldn't have. 

My appearance was a big part of why people always compared me to her throughout my life. 

I often heard my relatives murmuring about how shameful it was to have hypersexuality, thinking it was enough to make God turn his back on us. 

Before I was ever diagnosed, they sent me to therapy or took me to church to rid me of the "badness," and they looked so upset when they realized they had failed after my first diagnosis. 

I was constantly told to blame her for my behavior.

I did things that would shock even the worst sinner, not because I wanted to but because even the tiniest touch, whether it was sexual or not, could ignite a burning desire in me. 

Alright, Happy birthday to Me.