Mother Took Revenge on the King of the Gods for Me
Her clothes were soaked through, clinging to her skin, cold as ice.
By the third day her legs had gone numb. Not in pain, simply without feeling. She tried to stand, and they would not obey her, two wooden posts that buckled and dropped her into the foul water. Her face went under, she choked, and she coughed for a long time.
No one came. Zeus never came, not once.
He was busy. He was busy celebrating with Hera the new divine rank her nephew had been granted. The boy who killed me had been raised, in death, to God of Courage, his statue set at the very gate of Olympus.
Sikat na Kabanata