03 Scapegoat

Hope was the second emotion I felt that morning. As I entered the breakfast hall, bracing myself for the worst, I was surprised to find it empty. The absence of people dissipated my anxiety but also reminded me of my immediate dilemma.

I was still hungry.

With no one around, I bravely strode into the kitchen, sniffing around for any leftovers. Sure enough, there was always something on the kitchen island—a half-eaten loaf of bread, some garlic spread, and a few pieces of fruit.

I didn't care what food was available, unlike my youngest brother, who was a picky eater. I took pride in this difference, especially when I overheard him throwing a fit over finding green peas on his plate.

"Revolting," he had said, as if green peas were the poison of the earth. 🙄

Growing up, I didn't have the luxury of developing a refined palate. I simply ate whatever was available, spoiled or otherwise, as long as it filled my stomach. Thanks to that, I developed a strong stomach and an acute digestive system, making me immune to most diseases.

I grabbed the loaf of bread and some garlic spread and headed off to the garden to eat. I didn't want to make a mess in the kitchen.

After getting caught so many times, I learned that no matter how much I cleaned up after myself, there was always some dirt I supposedly left behind that exposed my act.

In other words, they always found fault in everything I did. Even when I did nothing wrong, I was wrongly accused. So why bother defending myself when I was always on the losing end?

I was put in this house as the scapegoat for all the bad things. The evil stepsister in the story. Cinderella was the good one in everyone's eyes, and I certainly wasn't her. In fact, I wouldn't even want to be her.

Heck, I wasn't going to wait for someone to save me. No way.

I was going to save myself from this hellhole, no matter what it took.

Reaching the garden, I made my way to my favorite spot—a secluded nook nestled between two giant oak trees, covered with thick shrubs. I had pruned the twigs to create a shady retreat, a small sanctuary away from the prying eyes of the family.

Sitting on a large tree root, I spread the garlic on the bread and took a bite, savoring the simplicity of the meal. Despite its plainness, it felt like a small victory in my otherwise bleak existence.

I was about to take another bite when I heard noises coming from the bushes ahead.

Stuffing the bread into my mouth, I grabbed the butter knife like a weapon. You could never be too careful around these parts. The whole compound was under surveillance because of the occasional 'bugs' found in the gardens. I usually stayed far away from them, but there were times I intervened when they disturbed the peace I had here.

Treading carefully, I sharpened my hearing, distinguishing between the sounds of nature and intruders. This ability had been painstakingly perfected after losing countless favors to the Blindman. To this day, I still owed him three hundred and sixty-five favors.

If I were back with my true family, I could have settled this debt easily within a year. But now that I'm separated, who knows how long it will take?

After locating the source of the 'bug,' I threw the butter knife without hesitation. No matter how blunt it was, when applied with enough force, it was sufficient to eliminate the pesky 'bug.'

I was about to return to my breakfast when I heard a sudden cry.

And it was something unexpected.