Tell me a lie

Chapter 3

Nicolai, 2010
12  years old

I'd just come home from being at Yovani's house. The chaffour that my dad hired, picked me up as always. My father is too busy to care about me, and when he does have the time to do anything other than mobb business I wish he would've spent the time with me, much differently than what he does.

The maids tell me to sit at the table while they bring the dishes that the chief has made. I'm usually the first to be sitting at the table, always waiting for my father to come home. He demands that I should be prepared and wait for him to come because it's a sign of respect. And while I sit here and wait, which can be for how long it takes. I'm not allowed to read any book for entertainment.  That's why I'm not allowed to wait for him while reading a book. He thinks books are for people who are unintelligent and not for a man that has an entire future planned already for him. I think he's convinced that reading books will make me choose something else for my life while he's actually already planned my destiny and place for the company when I was born. He says reading is for weak minded people. Nicolai isn't weak, my mother used to tell me when he'd insult me. Now, I no longer have her, and the parent I'm stuck with hates me.

If books help with intelligence then my father should definitely take a book and read.

I hear the keys juggle outside. My Palms start getting sweaty, so I wipe my hands against my jeans. I hope he won't notice my anxiety.

The footsteps start approaching. Getting louder, each second. I stretch my back, straighting my back more to his liking. I have to look sharp, 24/7. I hope he'll notice my effort.

"Your chin isn't straight enough, kid." He comes from behind, putting his index finger under my chin and tingling it higher. That's the first thing he says, of course. I always do something wrong.

"Hello father, how has your day been?" I ask him. He takes the seat, on the other side of the table. Sitting in front of me. I have to look him in the eyes. Another rule I have to follow.

His eyes are different from mine. He has the color of poop, while I got my mother's eye color. She used to say that my eyes held the beauty of the ocean. I miss her.

"Today's training is 5 hours." 
"But father, I have to study for a test tomorrow." It's the truth. The teacher has warned me that I've been doing worse lately, and it's because I've been training with my father for hours. I'm sleepy and tired all the time. Though I can't protest against dad, cause things just get tougher and harder for me. Last week training was three hours, and now we've jumped to five. He refuses to give me a break.

At the mention of school, my father's entire demeanor changes. His poop colored eyes turned darker, (if that was even possible). He clenches and unclenches his jaw. I look and observe his body language to avoid his eyes.

"Look me in the eyes, boy!" His voice startles me. I look him in the eyes again, afraid of what might come next.

"Now, back to your disgraceful comment, school will never be a priority of yours so get that through your thick skull." I nod in response.
"Nicolai, you're going to become the most ruthless and best heir of our legacy, whether you like it or not. Now, back to your punishment. The training will be 8 hours long." He doesn't wait for me to complain, instead he looks at the guards behind me and gives them a nod. Signaling them to take me into the room. They forced themselves upon me, harshly grabbing my arm. Two guards, one arm each and dragging me to the room.

I call it the blue room. There I would spend the next 8 hours training. Cardio, weightlifting and boxing. Finishing when my personal trainer was satisfied. We finished at 4 am.

I remember getting one hour of sleep and failing that test, the next day. That's when I got the worst grade in all of year 7.