Tantalizing Two

S.S

Life didnt simply give me lemons. It grew an entire tree, plucked the juiciest ones, and squeezed the lemon juice into my eyes. Life didnt love me but it was fine because I learned not to want its love.

I made do with the hatred that the world bred me into. Perception became one of my biggest weapons as I masked the life I had with fake smiles and pretty pictures. People always told me I looked perfect.

Perfectly pretty. Perfectly smart. Perfectly Perfect.

People constantly saw me as perfect but in my 16 years of existence, nobody but one person had ever asked me why I was perfect all the time. People knew perfection was used to mask the true horrors of the world, but no one had ever asked why a 5-year-old had perfect manners or an 8-year-old would rather talk politics with grownups than experiment with kids their own age. They left me to wonder whether people were simply ignorant and stupid or if they had seen through the carefully constructed mask but had ignored the horrors that were unveiled.

The first few years of my life was me trying to hide away behind the mask I had created but after a few years I gave up. It became clear that it didnt matter whether or not people noticed. As long as I smiled and kept being perfect, I could remain on a social pedestal that awarded me the option of pretending everything was alright.

Everything was not alright, but no one needed to know that.

Take now for example. Ive been locked in a basement for 3 days with no food and minimal water as punishment. Although cruel, this was one of the lighter punishments that had ever been given to me. I had 3 people who hated me for different reasons and each had a different way of making my life miserable.

My Father did not necessarily hate me. He hated all women. I don't know who hurt him as a child or if he had grown up being taught that but his hatred for my gender fueled his cruel smile and lingering touches.

Mother dearest was the worst in my opinion. She hated me because she didnt want me. Mother had been forced into a relationship with father and that had bred me and my siblings. Mother was trapped in a marriage with a man who hated her and a family who had abandoned her.

Giving birth to two sons had allowed for father to treat her gently and he no longer hurt her. Instead, after mother gave birth to me he took out his anger on the only daughter he had. Mother had locked away her feelings from me the moment I was born. Perhaps she had known the cruelty I would enter so she closed the connection before one could be formed. She took a page out of father 's book and decided that although she had to be perfect in the eyes of the people it didn't mean at home she could try to free some of her demons onto me.

It was ironic, really. I hated my mother for the same reason she hated her husband and family. She became the monster she loathed and I always found myself wondering how she looked at herself in the mirror everyday. A monster had created a monster.

Wasn't she scared she would create one too?

Maybe she didn't care anymore. She had the same look in her eyes I did. The insanity brought by surviving. A pure soul twisted by the curse of time and hands of fate.

She really brought the saying "You either live long enough to see yourself become the villain, or die a hero" to fruition.

My older brothers had sadly grown up with my dad. His hatred for women had run off on them and both had chosen to think of me as a maid rather than their sister. They were not as cruel as mother or father but they didn't act like big brothers.

Not that I knew what big brothers were supposed to act like.

I didn't have anyone to protect or shield me away from the dangers of the world so I adapted to the harsh conditions given to me.

I had 4 people I truly cared about. Four people that above all else I could say my dark, twisted heart would start beating for if they needed me.

With 7.8 billion people on earth and 16 years of existence, I only truly cared about 4 people.

The saddest part about it is that over time I had become inured to the loneliness. Humans crave affection, some in different forms but affection nonetheless. At one point the hits, physically and mentally, had weathered me so much so that instead of craving affection I loathed it.

I can't help but laugh at the thought.

They had broken me on a soulless level.

I was mangled to the point where affection, a basic human behavior, repulsed me.

However, eventually, I learned to crave it. The life jacket affection awarded me.

That's where Roux comes in.