The Myth of Medusa

He chopped off my head in my sleep, too afraid to face me awake. It takes seven minutes for your life to flash in front of your eyes when you die. Here is what I saw:

Blue summer skies. Running through the fields as a child, carefree, unaware of what was to happen, oblivious to my lifes’ tragedy. I saw her temple, where I worshiped her. In silence. Athena was everything to me. I was devoted to her. I loved her. All in silence. I never complained. 

I saw him too. That night in the temple. I tried to fight him off me. I tried to run. Poseidon didn’t care. My whole life I tried to forget what he did to me. I was killed before I could accomplish that. I have to die with the memory now. The memory of my cries echoing in the temple. The memory of him hurting me. Having his way with me. I prayed to her that night, like I did every day, every time, always. She did not answer until it was too late. I remember begging him to let me go. I remember trying to push him off me. I remember the desperation. I remember my rage and I remember my grief. I remember it all too well. He stole my youth and promised heaven. All I felt was hell. I remember my helplessness. I remember begging Athena to help me, kill me, anything. She never showed me any sign she cared. And I would have loved her in silence. But nothing about me felt silent anymore. My heart was pumping, chest was screaming, mind was running. He told me to give up. I never replied too afraid….. to lose even a bit of my strength to him. He does not deserve it. But in my head, I screamed at him for robbing my girlhood. Give it back. It was mine first.

Athena appeared. He ran. Without a word, she transformed me into something I did not recognise. I would not be looked at by anyone who would live to tell the tale. I never understood if it was a gift or a curse. I would have thought of it as a gift had she interfered earlier. But her ignorance turned me bitter. On most days, I thought of it as a curse. 

I still talk to her. When I am screaming at the sky.

Why did you punish me? Not him. Me.

Why?

My spirit is in Tartarus now. Looking at the generations that come by. I have watched empires rise and fall. I watched my truth be speculated. Claimed as a lie. Twisted to show that I hated Athena, envied her. I saw myself painted as a monster before I was cursed to be one. 

Generations passed again. I see my story be speculated again. I see survivors recognise my truth. I see myself becoming a symbol of protection. I see many go through what I had and I see myself painted on their body. And I realise one thing. I will go through Poseidon and anyone else a hundred times before I let it happen to anyone else ever again.

I am not a monster. I am Medusa. I am a protector.

I don’t know if I am a gift or a curse. But I know that I am a survivor. And I know I am a protector.

-Nyx Roy, in the mind of Medusa