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!]
