Chapter 74 : Part I

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"Everything you did, no matter big or small, effects the world in some way", my father would say. For instance, if I didn't study, I would go on to be illiterate, which would cause me to be poor, thus effecting the economy of the country. That example stuck with me. Almost as if it was drilled into my head. I was the youngest child of the lot, born after two rather disappointing children. My sister wasn't as useless as my brother but, she was dumb. Both of them were unfit to be proper successors. And then came me. The golden boy.

My father hadn't loved any child as much as me. I was everything he could've wanted. I started to speak at the age of crawling, they told me. He loved me, cherished me. Told everyone proudly that I was going to be his successor. My siblings burned in envy. While I felt a gaping hole in my heart. It could only be filled with a mother's love.

My mother never paid much attention to me. She rarely held me. Whenever she saw me she would comment on my hair. "It's not a pretty color", she'd say. Father would brush it off saying I was pretty enough. But I could feel it. Her icy stare stabbed me every second. I hated that. Both of my parents saw me differently. One with too much admiration, other with close to none. I grew up feeling twisted. Confused. I didn't know whether to revel in the patriarch's praise, or to wallow in the matriarch's absence. I chose the former.

I built a shield around me. A shield of pride, cruelty, brutal honesty. I started to beat my fat, idiotic brother everyday. Just to feel something. Even if it was a wave of guilt, a pang of remorse. I'd feel his heart clench as the elder boy whimpered. And then I'd feel giddy when finally, my mother paid me attention. She'd look at me horrified, confront me, slap me, shake me by the collar. "You're a lunatic!" She'd finish before cradling the abused brother in her arms while the maids fussed with treating his wounds. It would turn into a sick habit.

My father didn't bother to even scold me for hurting my brother. "The useless mutt deserves it", he'd defended. My mother had screamed at him, thrown stuff around, to no avail. I had won a meaningless battle. My brother and I never got to be normal again.

My sister somehow picked neither side. She looked down upon the both of us. My mother clearly did. To her, I became 'troublesome', 'insane', 'sadistic', 'abusive'. "You're wrong. I'm not those horrible things. I'm special." I would verbally fight back. It would only deepen the gap between our hearts. I would do more things just to get a reaction out of her. My face would lift when she scolded me, fumed at me, slap me.

"You should drown in the lake!" She said when I had pulled my brother's nail out of his pinky finger. "I should've never given birth to you!" She exclaimed as my brother wailed with his bloody finger, on the brink of passing out. My heart hammered in my chest. How exhilarating all this was! The rush, the fear, the morbidity of my actions...

"I've had enough of you! I don't want to see your face ever again!" She didn't stop at slaps that night. She whipped me till I bled. I whimpered and cried. I don't remember the rest of the night. But I remember father was upset the next morning as he sent me to the hospital. A week later, I was sent to a different ward. A ward with white walls and a very scary looking doctor. He was awful. So was Mother. I hated her then. I still hate her. I wish she'd disappear. Then I'd be at peace. You would be at peace. And I could love you as I want. And you could return it. And we could get married.

And the awful people would be dead. I should kill them. All of them...