I died and woke up in an otome game (BL)

Chapter One : Meeting the goddess of love

A/N: the rewrite starts at... 60-61, I think? Basically this, and everything up till then are the original chapters I wrote years ago, and I'm rewriting it! :)

The room was warm and large. Like the bed, I was currently chained to. The view was amazing, and I was clearly in a hotel suite. My body was bare, save for the bedsheet wrapped around my middle. My chest and thighs were covered in bruises, from where I struggled.

My face was stained with tears and my throat hurt from screaming. There was a small tray in front of me. On it was what someone could consider a healthy breakfast; Toast with jam on it, two sunny side up eggs, and three sausage links. I couldn't tell you the last time I ate, let alone remember it. I've forgotten what it felt to feel full, having gone hungry for the longest time.

They gave me silverware. A fork, and a knife. How foolish. Had I been a weaker person, or maybe stronger, I'd have waited until that pig came back, and killed him with this fork and knife. I could get pretty creative. The fork in one eye, the knife through the neck, hopefully severing something; a nerve, a vein, anything that would lead to a painful and hopefully fast death. Or maybe, if I was stronger, I could free myself and call the police.

But I wasn't that strong, Or that weak. I just wanted release. To be free from this horrible and burdensome life. So I grabbed the knife, and like my weak but resolved brain commanded of my limbs, I slowly but firmly slid the knife, bluntness and all, across my throat.

I might have hated pain, but somehow, I had the strength and willfulness to continue until finally, after minutes of blinding pain, I cut skin. There was blood everywhere, but I couldn't care less. Better for the crime scene, I suppose. Does one get life from rape and imprisonment of a minor, leading said minor to suicide? I surely hope so.

I could tell this wasn't going to work, just slitting my throat. It wasn't deep enough, and even though I was bleeding a lot, I didn't have the hours my body wanted to slowly bleed to death.

I slowly made my way towards the bathroom, slipping slightly on my blood. The chains allowed me to reach the toilet and get in the bath, but no further than that. I couldn't leave or get help.

Not that I wanted it.

Or maybe I did. Once. But it's too late now. I turned the dial, allowing cold water to fill up the bathtub before I settled down in the tub, this time slipping in. I banged my hip on the side, bones always protruding. It hurt, but not enough to stop what I had decided to do next. I took my butterknife, and I slowly slit my wrists. The knife was too blunt so It took forever, but eventually, finally, it worked.

I don't when he'll be back, but I hope it's not soon.

It didn't take long for my brain to lull, and my thoughts to slow to a stop.

I'm so tired, was the last thought I had in this life, as I breathed my last breath.

***

My life wasn't one I wanted, nor one I was glad to have. My birth mother had a one-night stand that led to her getting pregnant. My father didn't want to be in my life, and even more so didn't want my mother in his life. She was proof of his infidelity, something he never told his wife about.

I was a blip to him, a slight in his perfect life, and he wanted no part in it. He didn't want me. Sadly, after enduring nine months of a harrowing pregnancy, my mother died of blood loss moments after I was born. I stay in the ICU until they couldn't keep me there anymore, the doctors hoping someone would come to claim me, as their own. A relative.

No one came forward. So I was put in the foster system; living two months in an orphanage, Until a couple adopted me.

That couple was Sheri and Irene Von Graves, a lesbian couple. Back then, there weren't many, and even fewer were married. They adopted me and gave me the name, Antonio Serenia Von Graves, Serenia after my birth mother.