chapter 3... background

I stepped into the classroom just as class began. the class was one just like any other. first period was always science. as I was in high school third year, the content of the class were supposedly hard... It will forever be a mystery to me how this elementary knowledge is hard.

I glanced at the teacher, and saw that she had finished taking roll and was writing the first class assignment on the board. As the teacher was focused on the white board, I sneaky tiptoed to the back of the classroom, the left most corner next to the window.

I actually don't have to be so secretive. even if the teacher had looked around as I was walking, she would have ignored me. in her eyes, I was nothing more than an orphan. a kid with no background. a unsightly, insignificant bug.

I had no family. no friends to speak of. not even a proper name. wait. let me correct myself. I once had a family. or people who called themselves parents. they never named me. the only "names" they called me by was Bastard, demon, devil, and in the presence of others, you or kid.

they abused me day and night, asleep or awake, mentally and physically. they hated me to the core. someone once said that people fear the unknown. perhaps that's why they hated me. I had a trait that no one could seem to figure out where it came from. silver blood. the people who called themselves my parents said it was proof that I was the reincarnation of the devil. they used that as pretense for abuse.

I had no one to pour out my suffering to. I once had someone I considered a friend. I could talk to him freely, and without fear of being bullied or Blackmailed. or, at least, that's what I thought.

I looked around the class, pretending not to notice the groups of people chattering and giggling. perhaps, the betrayal of the one person I ever trusted was the worst I have experienced. enough about that thought. I was explaining my parents to you, wasn't I.

so, every few days, my so called father would come back home drunk, and with another woman in his arms. he was in a fairly high position in the company he works at, so there are countless woman begging to get into his bed. the only reason why he hasn't cancelled the marriage with his wife was because she was pretty. that's all.

his wife was a lovesick fool. believing that her husband was just Bewitched by evil woman. that he still loved her back. she took her frustrations out on me every night her husband didn't come home.

they never let me be myself. it was always, ' IF ANYONE GETS WIND OF HOW YOU ARE TREATED AT HOME, DON'T BLAME ME FOR BEING RUTHLESS!!'. I always have to have my grades just a bit above average. if I went even one point below average, I would get beaten. if I had too good grades, than I was beaten. my fake family was afraid that if I was doing too good in school, the teachers would investigate why my personality was like this. little did they know, the staff wouldn't have cared anyway.

if they let me be myself, they would have discovered that I was a genius with photographic memory. because of being abused sense the day I was born, I did not develop any emotions. the most I would feel is a little brush of jealousy, or a fleeting moment of greef. you get the picture.

to me, emotions are nothing but a amplifier for emotional pain. the abuse did nothing but strengthen my body. perhaps that's why I put up with it for so long. I felt that the pain resistance and strengthened body and regeneration would come in handy for the future. and help me they did. but that is a story for another time.

it first began with disgust. mean words directed at me sense infancy. angry looks filled to the brim with contempt. they treated me like I was the thief who stole their happiness.

things just got worse as our family started to lose money.

I was 5 when I decided that I was fed up with it. so, I did what I had to do to get a decent life.