By Stella Cox, TIWP Student

Ares. My name seems to ring in my ear, as I hear the whisper of war. When you hear my name you don’t think of someone who is gentle or kind. When you hear my name you think of war. When I was young, my father used to tell me I was too violent for my age and that I was a lost cause and nothing could help me. Recently he told me he wanted to throw me off Mount Olympus because of my uncontrollable behavior. But I don’t care. He’s been saying it my whole life. I know who his favorite is. Athena. God of war like me. But in an “orderly fashion.” Miss Perfect, as I like to call her. She doesn’t understand the urge I get to go and destroy and kill and be angry. But maybe it’s because if I’m not on the battlefield I can never express my anger towards my father. Maybe that’s why I act this way. I wish for one moment I could just give my father a piece of my mind but then where would I go? What would I do? Who would care for me? Not like anyone does anyway. I sometimes wish I wasn’t so stubborn and hot-headed. And maybe I could be free. Free from this cage. Free from this life. Free from my father. Then I could truly and purely be the god of war.