Chapter 5: The Past

As I went up to the bedroom, I drifted off to sleep right away. I don';t give a damn about the land above anymore. I want to stay here for the rest of my life. That's because, back in the land, I was maltreated and abused by my own family. I felt so alone back there.

My father had another woman besides his true wife and that other woman was my real mother. She died giving birth to me. So, my dad had no choice but to just take care of me. As I grew up, the one who I once thought was my mother, his wife, was a torment to my soul. She was the head of the household and also, she abused my true father who was my only comfort, but then he was too afraid to fight back now. He was too weak a man. Perhaps it's because she was mad at dad for cheating on her.

My half-brother who was much older became the new man in the household. He was also part of the process at which my false mother tormented me back then. Everyday, he, with his disgusting face and nastily fat body, tormented me through violating caress and through forcing me to listen to crappy bands such as Green Day and Avenged Sevenfold, both of which are shitty cacophonies that pierced my soul (SEE? I HATE ROCK! so how am I like Ebony?) and blasted through his mp3 player with its earphones forcibly plugged into my delicate ears. Just like knives and whatnot, I also saw his mp3 player as a tool of torment. 'Mother' always rewarded my half-brother for every time he would do such horrendous things.

"Anything to make C'ren-whateverhernameis miserable," I heard those nasty words resound in my head as the nightmares of my past began to haunt me once again in my sleep.

Soon enough, in front of my very seven-year-old face, she stabbed my father to the very death. I only knew about the other woman as my father told me his last words, "Be strong, C'ren, just live your life. She is not your mother."

From that day forth, I have had enough. I ran away from home to get away from 'her' and my goddamn half brother and his shitty 'music' if that is what those pieces of dissonant, trashy noises actually are called.

Out in the streets where I first fled to, it was snowing. It was cold, and I didn't even have a sweater to keep myself warm. All I had on that day was a tattered, faded black shirt I loathed and just old underwear down below. I was not wearing any pants at all.

Through what seemed like a hundred years or so to me, all I did was to live like a hobo, scavenging food from the trash bins and dumpsters, or perhaps beg from some random people to get even just a cent or two for a day's hard work.

It was only until I got adopted by a rich couple that couldn't seem to have kids, around that time when I was about fourteen years of age. That was the time when I decided to make up for the things that I have lost and the things I should have already known since I was a kid, such as reading, writing, and computing. That was also when I discovered that real music is the euphony from the voice of an angel known as Justin Bieber, who coincidentally, my adoptive family shares last names with, although they;re not related to him.

Through four years of luxury, I learned not only to read and write but also various advanced skills such as martial arts, swimming, painting, architecture, trigonometry, biology, fashion design, cooking, mechanics, chemistry, agriculture, guitar playing, singing, drum playing, and computer programming.

It was at seventeen when I started my career as a marine biologist, just after I won the gold medal in the Olympics for swimming.

Sure, I may have achieved all those things, but I still felt discontented. My life was still like an empty vessel. I don;t know what the hell was missing in me. Numerous men of all ages may worship the ground I walk upon and many would like to know me, but there is really something that's still wrong with my life.

Perhaps I will discover what it is under the sea, far away from everyone I have once known back in the land above. It's a good thing, though, that after all those times I practiced swimming, I have already mastered it. I am a champ at breath-holding, so I do not need air helmets at all to survive here, just like how the Atlantian man can, but it's just that Atlantian people seem to have noses that are designed for underwater breathing, just like gills.

[AN: Ok, I used spellcheck. Hopefully my spelling is better by now. P.S. GREENDAY and A7x suck ass!]

No comments:

Post a Comment