The Power of a God

And there he was, standing in all his glory. A god they had said. He raised his arms in victory. “I found you! Again!” He said letting them drop and slap against his sides. “Are you done, yet?” He laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. “You will never hide from me.” He strutted, slow and confident towards her, before kneeling to where she was on the ground. “You have to be tired by now.” He grabbed her face and forced her gaze to his. “Let’s end this now. You can just give in.” He presses his mouth firmly against hers and she doesn’t resist. His mouth is rough and his unshaven face scratches against her own. His tongue is sloppy and aggressive and leaves her face wet when he pulls back. She doesn’t dare reach up to wipe it. With a scoff he says, “you’re almost no fun this way.”

She stares him straight in the eyes, “I made us a picnic.” His eyebrows shoot up and he watches her unpack. Joining them on the blanket she lays out first saucers, then the tea cups, the teapot, and a plate of sandwiches. “Just sandwiches and tea?” He critiques. Reaching back into the wicker basket, she proceeds to pull out a bowl of fresh strawberries. “Of course not, my love, I remembered your favorite.”

“Don’t fucking lie," he sneers. “You don’t love me.”

He looks down on her, but her eyes never falter, staring straight back. Bold, pitiful blue eyes. Gently, she puts the bowl down. “I think,” she says, “I think you’re so strong and so smart and so dedicated.” Carefully, she starts pouring them tea. “You’ve done so much for me. And you’ve put up with me all this time. I’ve never had someone love me so much. You never gave up on me, even when I ran away from you. And I think I just realized how lucky I am and how I should appreciate you.” She looks again into his eyes with that same merciful look. She held her cup of tea, not yet ready to sip, for now simply warming her hands. She tapped at the edges of the cup. There's something so safe about tea. And as the steam wafted warm air and a sweet scent into her face, she breathed it in deeply and letting the air out slowly as though she was sad to see it go. “I mean, you’re a god and out of anyone, you picked me.” She smiled sheepishly, humbly.

His eyes narrowed, but he sat down next to her and went to bite a strawberry. She watched as the fruit slowly went from bowl to fingers, from fingers to to mouth. She saw as it touched his lips. And then stopped. He pulled the fruit back from his mouth. “Actually, here, love, why don’t you take the first bite.” The scowl hadn’t fully dissolved from his face and his tone had an edge to it. She didn’t hesitate, though, and quickly nipped the tip off the outstretched strawberry. “Oh, they’re sweet.” She laughed a bit, “but it’s so hard to eat when you hold it.” She picked up a different strawberry and ate the whole thing. Then, she watched his shoulders relax and he pops the rest of the half-bit strawberry in his mouth. “The tea is my favorite, I think you’ll like it. It’s nutty and herbal, but I forget the name.” She washed the strawberry down with some sips of tea.

He grinned, “I’ll have some tea, but first I think you need to show me how sorry you are— for running away from me, for hiding, for thinking you could say no to a god. Your god.” She choked on her tea, but suppressed her coughs. Looking at him and she saw him waiting, a slight frown turning down the corners of his mouth. “I’m sorry.” She said meekly. “Closer,” he said, patting the space in front of him. “Kneel for me.” Slowly, she stumbled up, her dress shuffling and getting in her way. She crawled on all fours, head down, over to him. Once in front of him she sat up on her knees and faced him. “I’m sorry.” In one swift moment, he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, “I’m sorry, my god,” he corrected. Her heart was beating in her throat. He had her pinned to him. She could feel his erection poking into her butt. Her tea cup was so far away.

She looked at him again and as calmly as she could said, “I’m sorry, my god. I shouldn’t have run from you. I hope you can forgive me.”

He laughed and pushed her off him and onto the ground. “Alright, alright, I forgive you. Especially since you’re wearing that little thing.” he picked up a triangle sandwich and gestured at her dress with a corner. “It’s the dress you first saw me in,” she said, picking herself up to sit again. “I thought you might like it.” She didn’t scoot back to her old spot, but instead adjusted everything to be once again within comfortable reach. The sandwiches, the strawberries and of course, the tea. Her hands shook a bit, but she picked up her cup and slowly sipped once more at its contents.

He chomped away at the sandwich remarking, “man these are dry. You’d think you’d put more effort in.” He grabbed at his tea cup and said with a chuckle, “maybe I won’t forgive you after all. These sandwiches are practically criminal…” he lifted the cup to his lips, “or maybe I just need a better apology.” He smirked, but when she didn’t react, he pulled the drink away. “Come on, it’s just a joke. It’s funny.” She gave him a half-hearted smile. He rolled his eyes and went to sip again, “learn to take a joke, jeez.” And then before sipping, he sniffed. He stopped for a moment, looking at his cup with furrowed brows. Then looking back up to her, he downed the whole thing in one huge gulp. “You’re so fucking cute. Hemlock? Simple fucking hemlock?” He threw the cup and it shattered in an instant. “I’M A FUCKING GOD, YOU WHORE.” And he was on her in an instant, a fist firmly ripping at her hair. “Mortal poison doesn’t work on me, bitch. But, I guess you’re too stupid to figure that out.” He scoffed, “and to think I was worried about the strawberries. You’re too much of a moron to ever do anything. I don’t even know why I like you.” As if sparking an idea, he reached down and ripped open the front of her dress. “Oh yeah, at least you’ve got nice tits.”

”Fuck my corpse you stupid fucking pig.” The words came out of her mouth with such venom, they temporarily shocked the god. “What did you say?” He moved his hand to her throat, “what the fuck did you say to me?” But it was too late. He barely had time to register the glossy look of her eyes before he realized.

He scrambled for her cup, but when he grabbed it, it was empty; clean of even the dregs. The smell was unmistakable, the same as his own cup.

She was dead. She had killed herself. Still he grabbed at her, shook her, even tried to pour his godly ichor into her mouth. Nothing worked. Eventually, her body stiffened and cooled. The sneer on her face, frozen in time. She might be gone, but her anger, her contempt, her spirit live on. And there was nothing he could do about it. He could not beat her back to life. He could not follow her into death. Finally, she had escaped him.