Intro

Imagine being born in a world where everyone is given a curse. I'm not talking about cool curses like: having a dangerous pet dragon, the curse of fire, the curse of undying love. Pfft. I'm talking about miserable curses like: being cursed to die young, being cursed to loose everything you cared about, being cursed to be unsuccessful, being cursed to never experience love.

Yeah. Those kind of curses.

That's not a world you'd like to live in right? Yeah, same here but I've got no choice. I'm stuck here till I die. With my own curse.

You have your curse as soon as you're born. A few people in this world are gifted with the ability of reading those curses. Those gifted people could be called the most cursed. Why? They're immortal; forced to watch everyone they ever loved die while they remain and have no hope of joining them. I'd love to meet one of them and ask what the most messed up curse they've encountered but they probably wouldn't reply. They barely ever talk to anyone anyways.

They're forced to work in hospitals. They just stand there, watch as the delivery happens and then tell the parents the curse of their child when everything is over. It's then left to the parents to decide whether or not they want to let their child know about they're curse.

It might surprise you to know that most parents prefer keeping their child's curse a secret from them till whenever. Psychologists suggests this to be the best method because the child gets to experience a nearly normal life before their curse eventually catches up to them. A child that knows his or her curse is most likely to grow up being over excessively cautious or paranoid and would develop multiple mental disability as a result.

A lot of them would try avoiding their curse which is impossible in this world. That's one way to waste your time here; avoid a curse? Oh please. It's general knowledge to know that's impossible here. There's no point trying. It's your fate.

I wonder how people have so much hope while growing up here; watching others encounter their curse while worrying about yours. It's like this world is designed to drown people in despair but somehow they find some source of joy or hope. I wish I could suck it all out of them I stick it in me cause I'd really like to have a taste of it.

How does it feel to be happy?

To have nothing on your mind... Just glad you're alive or glad you got to experience what you did.

I've never felt that before. I've always had one thing or another bothering me but I guess I'm used to it. I'm just envious. I'd like to have what they have; feel what they feel.

Wouldn't that be nice?

My parents like many others, kept my curse as a secret from me.

I doubt they chose to because they love me or because they want me living a normal life. I feel they just enjoy the thrill of having me beg them from time to time to let me know what my curse is.

At this point I'm beginning to doubt of they even know.

I'm beginning to doubt if they're even my parents.

Those people don't love me. I'm they're punching bag, disappointment, mistake. I'm everything they hate and for that, they'd rather watch me suffer... They'd rather make me suffer.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's my honor to introduce to you, my main source of emotional and physical pain, my parents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I said wake up!", with that raging loud voice came a nice slap on my face, leaving my ears buzzing and most likely, a swollen cheek. What a funny alarm clock I have.

My eyes flashed open as the impact of the slap made my head shift off my pillow. I forced air into my lungs as I sat up to calm myself after the shock.

I took multiple breathes in and out of my lungs, feeling my eyes go back to being dull with every passing second.

I took a hard gulp, closing my eyes and squeezing my bedsheets to let off some steam. I didn't want to yell at my mom for slapping me if not my dad would be summoned and I might find myself in the hospital.

After a few seconds of catching my breaths I slowly lifted my hand to touch my now swollen cheek. The sting I got from contact made me flinch.

What a nice day to start my day.

Geez. Thanks mom.

I'm not used to being woken up like this. Usually, it's a slap on the back but never my face.

"Get ready for school. You're late.", she said with her usual cold tone.

"Okay mom. I'm sorry for not waking up on time today. Thanks for waking me up.", I smiled, turning to her. She rolled her eyes turning to leave.

"Good morning by the way!", I yelled before she left my room, making sure to bang the door behind her.

As soon as she was out of my room, my smile dropped as usual.

I always do this when she wakes me up. Act like a caring daughter and make sure you smile while you're at it. Maybe she'd feel bad for all the torture she's put me through and give me a little bit of love. I'd really love to have a taste of that.

No matter what don't hate them. You'll never get to have any other parent. Try to love them and one day they'll love you too.

That's what I believe. I've had that culture from a very young age. Maybe I'd be lucky today, besides it's my birthday. Maybe my life's birthday wish would be granted on my sixteenth birthday. I really hope so.

I'd greet every day and hope that one day they'd give a nice reply.

Wouldn't that be nice?

For now. I'll endure.

After a few seconds of rubbing my cheek and ignoring the stings that came with it, I gathered enough strength to stand up and get ready before my mom gets back here with a stick this time.

Though I wouldn't have been late even if I spent an hour in the shower, I rushed my bath and got dressed, plainly obviously. Like my parents would ever dream of buying me any thing dazzling or less embarrassing.

With my odd outfit, I rushed out of my room, down the stairs and into the dining. With my eyes widened and a wide grin growing on my face as soon as I saw the dish that laid there, waiting to be consumed by me.

Pancakes!

No syrup but still. I haven't had a taste of this since my mom found out it's my favorite. Did she make this for me.

I could feel my heart dance as I rushed to the table, excited to have something that's not leftovers from my parents dinner for breakfast for the first time in a while.

Before I took a bite of my meal. I couldn't help but take a moment to enjoy the feeling I was having right now.

I still felt a bulk load of burden on me, sure that this is going to be the only time this year I'd get to experience this but I was glad anyway. I felt like I was one step closer to experiencing peace? Not death. Peace while living. Pure happiness, with no pain left behind.

I gulped, ready to dog into my meal before the plate was snatched.

"It's mine.", My ears cringed at the sound of my father's grumpy morning voice.

"But-", I was cut short before I could get the chance to argue.

"Shut up or I'd crack your neck.", he said, leaving with the meal I'm sure is mine.

"Sorry." I whispered, watching him go up the stairs, already eating my food.

This hurt more than anything. Not just cause I love food... I'm just not sure why exactly.

Sighing, closing my eyes and forming a fist with my hand, I was able to push back the tears threatening to fall.

'I'm not a baby anymore. Don't cry over food. Sheesh Alea, Grow up', I lectured myself, standing up and heading for the kitchen, hoping I'd find some leftovers to eat before I leave for school.

"ALEA!", I heard my mom scream from the parlor.

My heart sank, remembering the number of times she's warned me against coming into the kitchen. She says, 'I hate pests being in my kitchen.'

Before I could gather up the courage to reply, my mom showed up from nowhere throwing a slap on my already swollen cheek and she didn't hold back one bit.

"You idi-", I cut her off before she got the chance the land an insult. Her words really get to me.

"I'm sorry.", I apologized, with my hands locking each other, already begging for mercy.

She paused, shocked with her mouth left a bit open. Slowly, her expression turned wild. She was raging and I wasn't sure why. I noticed as she turned red while her free hand formed a fist and her other hand increase its grip on the mug she was holding.

My eyes watered up, knowing what was coming for me. I didn't want it.

"I'm sorry. Please.", I begged, more afraid now that I noticed that whatever is in that mug is probably hot.

"You interrupted me?", She asked in disbelief.

"No. I'm sorry.", Now my words came out in whispers as I dropped to my knees, begging her to calm down.

She hissed, spitting on my face the next second without hesitating to pour her hot coffee on me as soon as I tried wiping my face.

She laughed as I screamed, literally dancing on the floor to get the coffee off. With time she started kicking me enjoying as I coughed out pleading words, hoping she'd end this soon.

When she got bored of me. She pulled me up by my hair, leading me to the door and throwing me out. "Go to school.", she smiled, slamming the door on my swollen face.

I stood there with my eyes on the floor. Feeling the tiny hope I had built up when I saw my breakfast fade away

I hope things get better.