Chapter 47 Pain of the past
Ravyen's POV
There she goes again, certainly bringing up the past I so much wanted to avoid. Mother, I have none and even if she was alive, I had severed all ties from her. I never got to experience a mother's love, I grew up being abused and ended up murdering my stepfather to save her. What did I get in return, her denial and subjection. She locked me up in a juvenile cell and claims I was a lunatic who loves murdering. Maybe she was the one who turned me into a psychopath or just the people around me. They were lunatics and initiated the younger ones to be like them.
My real father was a serial killer and drug dealer. I never knew he was such as he never revealed his identity to me. He was just cold and he barely had time for me. All he wanted me to be was become a successful business man, never to follow his dirty steps and dangerous occupation. He was disciplined and always had me locked up, home schooled and provided everything for me.
However, every night, I was his punch bag. According to him, he was training me to becoming strong. I had a lot of scars, there something he poured hot coals and burnt me with a pressing iron just to quell his anger. I tried to escape that cruel affection of his but get caught several times. My mother only stood and watch, unable to do anything or just didn't care.
He harass me, touching my genitals and sensitive parts of my body. He molest me and that affected me a lot as I was traumatized at my age, wishing to cry out to someone. The maids around weren't helping matters, we were never close and they only performed their duty and left. Gosh, how I hate those memories. To hurts that I couldn't do anything because I was a child.
Whenever he was done, I would cry to her, to feel her unwaivering warmth and hear her lullaby that it would be fine but no, she shuns me away. I was so devastated, intending to commit suicide but then, I was scared because I never found an easier way to die. Sometimes, I sit in the old garden, watching the stars and praying if there was a God to save me. However, he shuns his ears to my prayers.
I was tired of listening to her stories whenever I wanted to share my burden with her. She always tells me I was a mistake and she never wanted to get married to my father. How pathetic! Who cares? I just happen to suffer their hate and grief like I do not matter. To worsen it, she never gets to have a taste of his bitterness.
When they have a lovers fight, I was the end of their aggression. Rather than hitting her, my father would do that one me. Rather than slapping him, my mother would do that on me. Life was terrible under the care of these two. I just believe they were psychopaths whose marriage were organized by their parents because they were business partners. The consequences of an arranged marriage was terrible.
I hated holidays because the relatives which I knew of were drug addicts. They were from my paternal side. At a teenage age, I could smoke and my father saw no problem with that. He claims I was developing and my body was getting used to new things. I grew thin and get sick constantly trying to fight the urge. It was difficult as it became a part of me until I met Bianca.
Before that, my childhood was just in ruins. Outside, the world saw us as the perfect family and wishes to be a part, judging from the wealth and outward appearance. My father always had a broad smile, my mom, a bright one while I always had a sad look. His strokes forced me to put on a smile which I never want to do.
He forced me to become his dreams, a doctor. The doctor of that makes me laugh because I despise anything relating to the medical field. I never enjoyed childhood but only his gruesome acts that leaves a scar in my heart.
Then it came, the day I was finally waiting for. I was excited when he didn't return home after claiming to go on a business trip. but then, he was my father after all and I loved him despite his harsh treatment. If he were to change, my tender heart would still accept him then. I was 14 years old then if I wasn't mistaken.
Days succeeded months and I got to discover he committed suicide.Then his crimes came out. Everything happened fast during those period. It wasn't really a shock to me though that he was a serial killer of he'd beat me up to pulp and almost killed me when molest my body.
It turns out the country have been searching for him but never got his full Identity until he left a note in one of his suite where he committed his last murder. Well, as the story goes on, it turns out he left his property under my care as the next of kin.
However, the woman called mother ceased this opportunity to bring in her lover. It seems as though she had been waiting for a chance to break out of the relationship she had with my father. Who knows if she plotted his death because neither of us shed a tear in his funeral. I didn't even get to see his face because it was disfigured.
During his memorial, people said good things of him and pleaded with the court to rule out his case. My mother stopped my home schooling and sent me to the school of elites, strictly for the wealth. That was just the beginning as I became prey to bullies.
No one wanted to associate with me despite my act of being friendly. Not even the teacher. My peers called me the child of a murder, my teacher just bluntly calls me a murder. Any act of violence in my class were narrowed down to me despite the fact that I was innocent.
The staff management warns kids to stay away from me because the trait of my father might be in me. The urge to kill. I wanted to be different, I wanted to prove that they were wrong, I had a lot of good in me and I showed it. However, what did I get? Rejection, segregation.