2 Chapter One: The road to Greenvale

~Kena~

Greenvale. There was a time when I hated this island like it was my own personal living hell. Its flawless exterior always found new ways to irritate me. I used to sit and stare out of the window for hours, daydreaming about the day I'd finally be able to leave. The day I did finally have the courage to tell my 'family' that I wanted to escape. The day I could finally be free. But of course, the Island had other plans installed just for me.

Beyond its beautiful scenery and classy people, If one looked closely, one could see that Greenvale was built with the intention of being a place where the rich and privileged could live a luxurious life. A place where the wealthy treated the poor like livestock, a place where everything was for sale at the right price, and a place that was nothing more than a nightmare for those at the bottom of the food chain.

You did not want to be found at the bottom, believe me. And, just so you know, the word "bottom" best suited my entire existence.

To put it simply, slavery had been my birthright for many years, and my future held no promise of freedom.

Of course, there were those who could swear on their lives that Greenvale was like living inside a Hollywood film where everything was perfect and everything was served on a silver platter, but I wasn't one of them. To be honest, the lives of those who were forced to stand still all day holding that platter for the privileged were nothing like Hollywood. And, I'm sure I've said it before, but it bears repeating: I'd spent many precious years of my life clutching that platter, and it absolutely sucked.

I'd like to say I had a life before I found myself in Greenvale, but honestly, that would be a complete lie.

My life prior to this Island was not what I would call 'quiet,' but well, it was tolerable.

Tolerable, that is, until my once-firm foundation gave way beneath me.

It's strange how a minor incident, an innocent statement, and a dash of distrust can forever alter a person's life.

It all began to go wrong a day before my twelfth birthday. I can still see it, the memory as vivid as it is dark.

Flashback, to six years earlier.

"Don't make me ask you again, Kena; go put on your jacket; it's freezing outside. That is, unless you don't want any gifts this year, in which case we could always skip the shopping and just stay at home, huh?"

"What?! No! You promised me a real puppy this year, and you know how badly I've always wanted one."

"All right, then, go put on a jacket."

"But why?! You and Dad aren't wearing any, so why should I?"

"How many times will I have to explain this to you, honey? Your father and I are not the same as you. The jacket isn't necessary for us, but it is for you."

"But, Mum..."

"Na-ah! Not another word, young lady, or else I..."

"Kenena, put on a damn jacket before I put one on you!" Dad's commanding voice echoed off the walls and rang loudly in my ears as he walked from the kitchen into our small two-sofa living room, where Mum and I stood, our voices instantly silenced and our posture frozen.

We lived in the middle of nowhere with just a handful of neighbours in a small but very cosy (thanks to mum) two-bedroom house.

Where was this place located? I had absolutely no idea.

We were completely engulfed by dense woodlands with thick canopies that cut us off from the rest of the world. The immense amount of green that surrounded us could easily drive a sane person insane in a matter of days, but it was still breathtakingly beautiful, I suppose.

And, I'm sure many people would have taken one look at this place and found it comforting, never wanting to leave, but I was sadly not one of them.

Maybe I should have been when I had the chance.

Dad and, on occasion, mum, would have to travel for miles to get the supplies we needed to survive in this beautiful isolation prison-like setting. Everything we needed was purchased in large quantities to last us several months without having to restock, so I never ran out of anything except one. Freedom.

It is what every human being desires most in the world isn't it?

Maybe I shouldn't have sought it so desperately.

No matter how bad it sounds, it wasn't always completely bad because, on special occasions like that beautiful day, I was sometimes allowed to go shopping with both or one of them, and every day for as long as I could remember, I waited for these opportunities as if my entire life depended on it.

I'm sure you've guessed it by this point. I'll still spell it out for those who haven't, and the answer is... Yes, I was homeschooled.

Due to the completely insane distance that my parents (dad to be precise) strongly insisted that we needed, I had no other option but to rely on both my parents for my education, literally.

In a panicked rush, I ran upstairs, terrified of the consequences of my father's threats, because we all knew that dad never made empty promises. And believe me when I say this: That threat was far more terrifying than it sounded.

As I rushed up to my room, I could hear them, as usual, fighting because of me.

"Why do you continue to torment her in this way, Robert? She's our..."

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Lily, or I swear to God..." I stood petrified on the stairs, his voice was so cold that the freezing weather outside was incomparable.

"Robert..."Mum's voice sounded so heartbreaking that I couldn't stop silent tears from falling down my cheeks.

If only I had known then why he hated me, why he loved and hated my mother so much, then maybe, just maybe, I could have done something to change it. But, unfortunately, the reason remained a mystery to a nearly twelve-year-old me until it was too late.

I remember sobbing quietly on the staircase and listening to them silently, forgetting why I had gone up in the first place.

"Lily, you disappointed me. Every time I remember how you had the heart to betray me the way you did, I find myself drowning in a sea of deep sorrow and pain."

"Please, Robert. We've discussed this a thousand times, and each time I tell you the same thing: it's not what you think, my love, I swear it."

"Oh, please, I saw what I saw, and she proves it to me every single day! So don't take me for a fool, because so help me God you'll regret it!"

Dad's rage rang through every single wall of our small house, instilling fear in everyone who heard it. He sounded as if he wanted to make mum hurt as much as he was hurting, but I knew he wouldn't physically harm her because, for some strange reason, he always said that hurting my mother would be like jamming a dagger right into his heart, and he wasn't ready to die.

Her physical health was excellent, but I couldn't say the same for her emotional and mental state.

Somehow, despite all these, they still wanted to be together and never part. This I never understood why.

"I don't think I want to go out with you anymore; I'm way too worked up right now. I'm going to take Kena, get her the damn dog, and come back later." I overheard Dad say to Mum, but something about the way he said it sent shivers down my spine.

I guess Mum felt it too because she quickly protested and insisted on coming along or we would all stay home and forget about the puppy. And just when I thought Dad would yield to Mum's wishes as usual, I heard something hit a wall with a loud crash and Mum's scream followed suit.

I distinctly remember rushing down the stairs in a panic and stopping at the bottom to see Mum kneeling in front of Dad crying and the pieces of a broken vase scattered on the floor on the far side of the room.

I also recall staring down at Mum, looking for any kind of injury on her but finding none. She was a little shaken, but she appeared to be physically fine.

"I said, stay." Dad's voice was hard and harsh, and the fear in the eyes of Mum made it even ten times scarier for younger me. Then, just when I thought I couldn't possibly be any more scared, Dad's voice rang out again,

"Let's go, Kena!"

A few minutes later, after that episode, my tears trickled freely as I stared out the window of my father's pick-up truck at my crying mother, who was chasing after the speeding vehicle, yelling for my enraged father to stop the truck and bring me back to her; and somehow my young self knew that I'd never see her again.

End of flashback

Anyway, that was the first step on my long journey to Greenvale. The rest? Well, that would be revealed as we go on.