𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚. [𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮]

[21]

Warning: Abuse, triggers, self harm, harsh suggestive language

M a r k - Years ago at age 16-

     I matured earlier than other boys my age. I would still have the mindset of a 12 year old if my old man didn't take me on his 'business trips' every month. The family name Rameau is of French origin. Oddly enough, lots of women want the last name.

     I'm not entirely sure why, but I think it has to do with my father, Sean. He gets around and brings women home all the time after spending an hour or two at the bar down the street from this company hotel. The word company is just a cover-up for what we actually do. It's a sick game in reality.

     My mother is abusive towards me, do I know why? Absolutely not. She shouts at me after doing the most minor of mistakes and tells me how much of a waste of space I am. I have my dad's facial features and hair, but I have my mom's cold grey eyes. 

     Grey eyes aren't really that common. Less than 1% of the world's population actually have them. Although in Northern and Eastern Europe, they're most common. Really makes you stand out when you're someplace other than Europe. 

     "Mark it's time to leave for America. Get out here with your belongings." My father states bluntly as he stands by the door when I enter the living room. My mother, Danielle, squints her eyes and raises a brow at me as if she's trying to find a way to verbally abuse me.

     "Let's go." 

     We leave the hotel room and get into the elevator, going down to the first floor and walk to the lobby. Many pairs of eyes lock onto the three of us. Correction, they're staring at my mother.

     Despite her and my father loving each other deeply, they both still have playthings. No strings attached they say. Bullshit. I'll admit, she is very beautiful, but her personality is the opposite of beautiful. It's monstrous. 

     Long blonde hair, radiant grey eyes, pale smooth complexion. Black and white long sleeve sheath sweater, black knee high faux suede heeled boots, and diamond necklace. 

     The black Cadillac Escalade awaits us as we exit the building and step into the roundabout pick-up and drop-off area. Much to my surprise my father grabs my bangs and hands them to the driver to set them in the rear of the vehicle. 

     As much as the next guy, I've always had a liking for cars. Especially luxurious ones such as this one. The driver had dark brown, almost black hair, with vibrant green eyes that would intimidate you just at a mere glance.

     "Are we going to the Airport, father?" I ask, slipping into the back seat and buckling my seat belt. My father does the same but pulls out his phone afterwards. My mother arguing with the driver, in the background. He looks at me with a brow raised.

     "Of course we are. Where else?" He scoffs and turns back to his phone, typing away.

     Such an amateur move to even suspect he'd be anything other than rude and sarcastic. Sometimes I question why I was even born. 

~

     Now on the private jet, I gaze around looking at the interior design. Mostly white with black accents. Plain.

     My mother sits in front of me with her legs crossed elegantly, her fingers intertwined. The glare she keeps giving me makes me suspect something is up. Keeping my guard up is the only thing I can do in this situation.

     "You know, son.." She starts, looking out the window as a small smirk tugs at the corner of her thin lips. Uh oh.

     "I wonder if you'd even survive jumping off this plane. I mean~ It's so high up~ you always talk about how much you love flying. Why not try it out now? Hm?" The suggestive tone gives me goosebumps. Tears begin welling up in my eyes. 

     She begins sporting a sneering smile at me. "You bitch." I mutter, trying to keep my voice from breaking as I rush to the bathroom in the back of the plane. Tears fall down my lower lashes like a rain drop skimming down a leaf. 

     My body trembling, my chest tightening, my hope declining rapidly. Why is this effecting me so much? She's said worse.. hasn't she?

     No, she hasn't She never once suggested that I.. commit suicide. I never thought she was that cruel. 

     Waves of new thoughts and regrets wash over me. A razor catches my eye, the blade drawing me over to it. It's so shiny and sharp. Just looking at it makes me think that ending it would be so easy. They wouldn't care, right?

     Nah. I've basically been neglected. According to my grandmother, my father was much nicer before he ruthlessly murdered the Miya's. I'm at my limit. To make my dad proud, I'll find the sons of the Miya's~ AND KILL THEM~

     Sadistic laughter escapes my mouth as I grab the blade and rip it from the razor. Skimming it along my forearm, blood oozes from the cut, making me smile. The pain isn't as bad as I would have thought. Maybe I'm just not applying much pressure. Let's deepen it~ hehe.

     I sigh loudly and bring my forearm up to my mouth and drag my tongue over the cut. The blood tastes metallic. But do I mind? Nope~ Definitely not.

     "Haha... hahaha.. HAHAHAHA! I'll make you proud father! I'll get the Miya sons one day! Even if I get one of them, I'll make the other suffer from the loss! AHAHAHAHAHA!" 

~

A/N: Uhm.... oya? Idk what the last bit was. But I was enjoying it. Maybe a little too much. Ehhhhhh whateverrrrrr. I hope this actually kinda makes sense even though I made this up almost smack dab as I started writing it </3

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Fun Fact #9: My dream occupation is an Automotive Technician. Earlier today I was actually skimming across google to find Universities or Colleges that have Automotive classes. Although a specific University is the one I'm aiming for in the long run. It's a pretty good school and is in the same state I live in. But shit, my GPA right now is F F F F F. Online school is definitely NOT for me. Once my mother gets her Covid vaccine, Imma start going to school full-time and work my ass off. Yes I'm in high school. That's all you're getting.

Word Count: 1097