Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Unbridled Pain

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If you are experiencing abuse, please seek help immediately. Contact emergency services if you are in immediate danger. Consider reaching out to a trusted friend, family member, or a local support service.> ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

"A child like you should have never been born!" my mother's voice echoed through the halls as I ducked behind a pillar to hide.

I was only five then.

The halls glimmered and shone. Every piece of furniture was immaculate, no thanks to my parents, who never lifted their hands.

My stomach had been growling for days, even though the house suggested there was plenty.

She would have continued to search for me back then, but she was suddenly called by my father.

He was a very cold, ruthless man, a temper worse than any in existence. My parents, as usual, were screaming and arguing. They did so every day, even into my teens. I then hid between double doors, peeking through. I didn't know why I couldn't ignore them; I kept debating whether to intervene.

I started out the door when my father called my mother Satan. I thought, "How dare he, that was uncalled for!"

"That was horrible! Didn't you just call her that? Leave her alone! How could you call someone that? That makes you even worse," I said with my inflamed sense of justice.

My mother sat down at her chair in front of her favorite computer and stared down at me coldly. "You do not intervene in adult matters, Lotus."

"But..." I started, feeling hurt. I just wanted to help. Why was she so mad?

"You will shut your mouth. You do not get mouth off at me! This is not your place. You don't get to interrupt just because you're the successor."

It felt like a punch in the gut. I wanted to scream that if they didn't want me involved, they should stop fighting where I had nowhere to go. This was supposed to be my time normally, until she got ticked at me for mouthing off because I made a joke about math being "algae bra."

Midday was usually when I would sneak down to get a meal, if I could. Taking a brief five-minute break from the yelling. That's how I wished it was.

I was no normal child; I had never even attended a single day in public school, which everyone, as I grew, always told me they were jealous of—that I got to stay home.

They never had to live within the walls I had.

No amount of glamorous furniture can hide the bitterness of a life where one hasn't even the privilege of enjoying it.

Lately, my father was coming home from "work" around lunchtime to "relax," which meant I didn't get to eat. Not even on weekends.

I didn't even know all the ins and outs of what he did for work or politics. I just knew it was not good things.

This time they were arguing about my father's multi-month departure to another country on business. I made a joke that I would follow along the plane like a pixie so I wouldn't be left behind, merely to seem as if I would miss him. Maybe then I had hoped he would like me. Trying to joke or lighten the mood, give people drawings, and tell them I loved them was the only way I had learned to survive there.

However, I often found myself lacking any sense of missing the monster who posed as a man. Even as a child, my thoughts were the same.

My emotions were always overwhelmed; I was raw and angry. I remember watching TV and thinking when the main character finally had an outburst, the parents would listen.

I found that was never to be as I had hoped.

My parents called me over a few hours later before anyone was to depart from the residence. "Be on your best behavior, shoulders down and back, speak politely, remind them who you are," my mother's voice hissed as she gripped my shoulder.

"If you do well, maybe I will let you eat," she said, casting me a warning glance as if saying that if I messed this up, missing food would be the least of my worries.

I gulped, trying to force a smile on my face. "None of that glowering you do," she continued. "I taught you to have better manners than this."

"But I am not doing it intentionally, that's just my face," I pleaded for her to understand. She slapped me across my jaw and cheeks. "That will be your face if you do not listen," she said as she grabbed me by the hair and dragged me toward the foyer.

She fixed my hair and brushed it down. She always cared about performances and the perfect family archetype. She glanced over the dress she made me wear when little kid me hated dresses. She smiled at its yellow tone and fixed my bangs further before someone asked if we were ready.

She nodded and indicated they may open the doors. I saw a woman and a man who did not resemble my parents much, but a similar powerful aura surrounded them. They were dressed casually. Their imposing nature still shone through.

Behind them I sensed a darkness clinging to their backs, but as I usually did, I dismissed it.

The man looked quite relaxed and at ease. They softly put their hands forward and nudged a little girl into the room. I stared at the girl; she in fact looked quite like me, like a sister or something, the same age.

She was dressed in a soft pink simple dress, while mine was both blue and yellow. She had softer features, blond hair, and white streaks in it as if platinum.

We stared at each other for a moment, confused as to what this meant. Before both of us reached out a nervous wave. "Hi," we said in unison.

We looked at each other shyly.

"Lotus, meet someone who will be close to you for life," my mother and the couple said.

I turned to her, curiosity sparking on my shy face. One of my closer friends popped up behind us. He was the cousin of some girl my age my parents were close with; some old-fashioned ducal house, but in modern times it seldom held any pertinent weight.

He grabbed my shoulders and exclaimed as if recognizing the girl.

He bounced around us. "Lotus, Lotus! Get your robots you made out. You're going to like her!"