Deep in love

Camilla Minx

Sex.

I was addicted to it, it was something my body couldn't go without for long periods. Something my body craved, and yearned for. Something that angered me because I couldn't help it.

Whenever I denied my body its pleasure it would only find a way to completely torture me.

As a child, my father warned me to stay away from things that didn't belong to me or things I couldn't have.

But I never listened, if I wanted something I would always get it.

Growing up, I was always a spoiled brat to people because of it and they were completely wrong.

In the eyes of the world, I was his daughter, also known as a young seductress who was incredibly reckless.

Reckless.

An adjective is used for a person or their actions without thinking or caring about the consequences of an action.

The word was used a lot for me when I turned sixteen, I seem to not have a care in the world.

Today is my nineteenth birthday, Grandma being the holy Christian she is prayed with me for over twenty minutes about a long and sinless life.

"Must you show so much skin?" Grandma gave me a disapproving look as I emerged from the long, white stairs. The sound of people talking filled the room, the words 'Happy Birthday Camilla' written on a banner.

Men were dressed in formal suits and women with dresses hitting their ankles. Here I was with a cut-short, wine-coloured dress that hit my mid-thigh. A deep v-neck showing off the curves of my breasts.

"Isn't there something in that bible of yours which says, 'Thou shall be comfortable in thy skin'?" she glares at me and clutches the small, brown book tighter in her hands.

"Camilla, come here please" I look to see Father speaking to a woman and a man.

I join him as he stands along with a family, a married woman who seems to be narrowing her eyes at me and her husband who cannot take his eyes off of my exposed thighs in the short dress which exposed the deep view of my breast.

"Camilla, this is Sheila and her husband. You know them well, yes" Father introduces and I stare at the couple whom I have never once seen in my life, he glares at me to go along with it.

"Actually no, I don't" I give the woman a short smile and she plasters a fake smile on her lips.

"I was best friends with your mother in college, around your age" She clasps her hand around her husband's arm and he only licks his lips staring into my eyes.

"Eyes just like hers. She will be truly missed" My own smile threatens to fade but I keep it.

"Mother had never mentioned you, are you sure the two of you were even close?" I respond with a slight head tilt.

"That's enough Camilla" Father warns and I roll my eyes.

The nerve half of these people have, is to pretend as if they knew my mother for the loving person she was only to be the same people bashing her as well as me for something we had never asked for.

The fact father allowed people to do so only pissed me off more with the man I was supposed to call my father.

The sad truth was, he was ashamed of it. Of her, until she couldn't handle it anymore. He doesn't speak about it unless it's brought up and everyone including him only seems to cry crocodile tears and speak every so kindly about her to "comfort" us during the sad times.

"I think it's best if I get you something to drink, would you like to come along?" Her husband asks, he was definitely in his late thirties. Though the stress seemed of being married to a fake bitch must have gotten to him because of the silver hairs slowly spreading across his thick black strands.

I follow the attractive man over to the large table away from people including his wife's and my father's sight, I begin to pour myself a glass when I feel him pressed against me.

"Is there something you need?" I place the glass down and feel his hands fall to my waist.

I can't help but curse my body for reacting so quickly.

"Who I need is right in front of me" He pushes my hair behind my back. "What I want is under this dress" He dips his head around my neck, moving his hand to the material of the thin dress. His index finger slowly glides down the valley of my breast.

"You have a wife" I close my eyes trying to convince my body that this is wrong, though my mind was completely hell-bent on this. My body hadn't cared if this man could have potentially had a child.

"As if you care, you're just another cock hungry whore. Like mother like daughter, no?" And for one of the few times in my life, my body and my mind had the same idea and that was to completely ignore the fact I was soaking wet not because of him but because of touch.

The sound of a loud groan erupted in my ear when my heel slammed into his foot.

Anger clouded my mind and my eyes as I left the pathetic man to wallow in pain and I found Father speaking to Grandma, she nodded in agreement at whatever he had said when they came over to me.

"We should go home now, we have many things to discuss" Everything about this seemed weird, a gut feeling telling me that my birthday was going to end in yet another shitty night.

I follow them into our limousine as we arrive at our luxurious mansion. Father is the first to turn around as Grandma sits on the chair next to him.

"What is this about?" I speak first as I close the door behind me.

"Go on tell her Chuck, she deserves to know before tomorrow" Grandma says placing the small, brown book on her lap.

"You are eighteen now Camilla, chances have been given to you to prove that you aren't falling into her ways. And yet again you have failed" He removes a photo from the table beside him.

Showing it to me, it's a photo of me sneaking from his business partner's house. "How"-

"See Chuck, the first words coming out of her mouth is how did they get this? This place will be perfect for her" I send a glare straight towards Grandma and she only looks to my father.

"What place?" I let the photo fall from my hands onto the floor when he sighs.

"Your Grandmother and I have decided to send you to Rodney Academy. You are of age and this place will help you continue to focus on your studies"-

"And teach you to ask God for forgiveness of your unspeakable sins" She finishes his words.

"I'm not"-

Conversations in this house always called for your words to be cut off.

"Don't even protest because this isn't up for discussion. It's already been planned and your bags have already been packed."

"This isn't fucking fair, you can't just up and send me across the world" I felt my body grow with irritation.

They were so set on sending me off almost as if they waited for me to fuck up.

He was sending me to hell, Rodney was a prestigious boarding school and the top university in the world. It was also known for its religious studies. It had been the same one mother was sent to, the same school I blame for ruining her life.

"Why not? You're proving to be just like her, Rodney helped her and it'll help you. You'll continue your English and Art Majors there, as well as find your way back to God" Grandma replies right back.

"Helped? and helped her? Because of that school, she's dead" I bite back any emotions wanting to seep into my heart that want to cause tears to brim my eyes.

"Camilla"-

"Do not speak on my daughter when you know nothing about her" She stands now.

"You don't even speak about her, and if you do it's to slut shame her" I throw my hands up in frustration.

"One thing I do know is that other than being a terrible mother. You're the same reason why she couldn't even remember my fucking name" She places a hand on her chest, shocked by my words.

"That is enough Camilla. This conversation is over, your flight leaves in the morning" I watch as he walks up the white staircase and the sound of his study door slams shut.

Grandma stares at me with daggers and anger apparent 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."

"Maybe in Rodney you won't be so disrespectful, something the two of you seem to have in common" She grabs her stuff and shuts the door.

Grandma was always a religious woman, and when she found out her daughter had the "devil's curse" as she calls it. She sent her straight to Rodney.

I was always left in the dark about her time spent there, I still remember her warm embrace as a small child. But I also remember the constant hospital visits and late nights as well. Most would say if you truly wanted to remember what she looked like, look in the mirror.

I was a spitting image of her.

From the soft tanned skin to the raven black hair that cascades down to my ass with its natural waves. The different coloured irises, one that matched the afternoon sun shining through a glass of whiskey to the ocean- strong ones swimming in the deep depths of an ocean view under the moonlight.

The curves of my body from my waist to my perfect breast to my toned abdomen and the ink reading Camilla on the left side of my boob to the Minx on my finger and the one on my wrist. Some would even say perfect lips had a taste for everything I couldn't have.

My looks were more of the reason people could not help but compare me to her all of my life.

Hearing my family whisper words about how shameful it was to have hypersexuality and that it was enough to allow God to turn his back away from us. Times before I was even diagnosed they sent me to therapy or took me to church to cast the bad out of me and seemed distraught that they had failed when I had my first diagnosis.

I was always told to blame her for my ways, I had done things that would make even the deadliest sinner turn from me and not because I wanted to but because the smallest touch whether it was sexual or not could have my body burning with desire at any time.

Well then, Happy Birthday to me.