Chapter 2 EPISODE 2

My eyes and thoughts were clouded with anger as I left the pitiful guy to wallow in his agony. When they walked over to me, I saw my father talking to my grandmother, and she nodded in agreement with whatever he had said. "We have a lot to talk about, we should head home now." Something about this seemed strange, like my birthday was going to end in another embarrassing evening. We pull up to our opulent estate, and I follow them inside our limousine. Grandma settles onto the chair next Father, who is the first to turn around. I say, "What is this about?" as I shut the door behind me. Grandmother puts the little brown book on Morgan's lap and adds, "Go on, tell her, she deserves to know before tomorrow." He takes a picture off the table next to him and says, "You are eighteen now, Honey. Chances have been given to you to prove that you aren't falling into her ways. And yet again you have failed." He shows me the picture, which shows me slinking out of his business partner's residence. "How" I give Grandma a direct scowl and she looks solely at my father. "See Morgan, the first words coming out of her mouth is how did they get this. This place will be perfect for her." When he sighs, I let the picture drop from my hands onto the ground, asking, "What place?" "Your Grandmother and I have made the decision to send you to Hartford Academy. You are of age and this place will help you continue to focus on your studies" - She concludes his statement, "And teach you to ask God for forgiveness of your unspeakable sins." "I'm not" - This was the home where you were always expected to cut people off in conversations. "Don't even protest because this isn't up for discussion. It's already been planned and your bags have already been packed." I could feel the annoyance in my body rising, "This isn't fucking fair, you can't just up and send me across the world." Almost as if they were waiting for me to screw up, they were that intent on getting rid of me. Hartford was the world's best university and a distinguished boarding school; he was sending me to hell. It was renowned for its research on religion as well. It was the same school that my mother had attended, and I hold them responsible for destroying her life. "Why not? You're proving to be just like her, Hartford helped her and it'll help you. You'll continue your English and Art Majors there, as well as finding your way back to God" Grandma responds promptly. I choke down any feelings that want to creep into my heart and make my eyes well up with tears. "Helped? Helped her? Because of that school she's dead" "Honey" - She now rises and says, "Do not speak on my daughter when you knew nothing about her." "You never talk about her, and when you do, it's only to embarrass her," I yell in exasperation. She puts a hand on her breast, stunned by what I said. "One thing I do know, other than being a terrible mother. You're the same reason why she couldn't even remember my fucking name." "That's enough, Honey. This conversation is over, and your flight leaves in the morning." I hear his study door slam as he ascends the white staircase. Grandma gives me a dagger-like look and clearly displays fury in her eyes. "Even if she could remember you, she would be disappointed in what you've become because you've turned out to be just like her." She gathers her belongings and closes the door, saying, "Maybe in Hartford you won't be so disrespectful, something the two of you seem to have in common." Grandma was a devout lady her whole life, and she became even more so after learning that her daughter had the "devils curse." She sent her directly to Hartford. I was never told anything about her time there, but I can still see her cozy hug when she was a little kid. However, I also recall the many trips to the hospital and the late hours. Most would advise you to glance in the mirror if you really wanted to recall her appearance. I looked just like her. From my naturally tanned complexion to my raven black hair that falls in lovely waves all the way down to my ass. The variously colored iris, from the powerful ones swimming in the depths of an ocean view beneath the moonlight to the one that matched the afternoon sun beaming through a glass of whiskey. The contours of my body, including the ones on my wrist and finger, my flawless breasts, my toned abdomen, and the tattoo reading Ceilia on the left side of my bosom. Some people even said that I had perfect lips and a craving for things that was out of my reach. People have always been drawn to me because of my appearance more than anything else. eavesdropping on my family's remarks about how hypersexuality was a disgrace and that it was sufficient for God to abandon us. Several times before my diagnosis, they were upset that they had failed to help me after my first diagnosis and sent me to therapy or the church to get rid of the negative energy in me. I was constantly advised to blame her for my actions because, whether it was sexual or not, the slightest contact could instantly cause my body to burn with want. I have done things that would turn away even the most virulent sinner. So let me say happy birthday to myself.