Pain of the Whispers

Chapter 5

 I asked being nosy. "Why would anyone want to take me away from you?" Mother laughed. "Such a brilliant child I got, huh?" Mother bent over to me and she poked my forehead. "Because you're special Rice, you're meant to be a killing machine for mother." I pouted like any five-year-old would and replied. "But I don't want to kill anyone, I don't want to hurt anyone either." 

       Mother laughed and stood up straight as she said. "In this world of ours, it's no better than the humans. You either kill or be killed, fight for yourself, or be beat. There is no other way, my darling." Mother gave me a smile as she looked me in the eyes, her eyes were so full of joy back then. "You're not going to be like the foolish women in this world, you're going to be Mother's strong girl. You will rule this world one day, you will put this world to shame at how strong you will be." 

    That's what she always told me, that I will be stronger than anyone. That I will be a soldier of death. 

   That I will stare into the face of death, I will rule death. There was no ruling beside death, I had to face death head first. 

    When I turned six, everything changed. Mother showed she wasn't proud of me anymore, she didn't even show it that much to begin with. She never smiled anymore, she rarely even came out of her bedroom, only when it came to business. 

   I thrived to make Mother proud of me. I wanted to protect Mother, no harm would ever come to her, I would make sure of that. 

   But for the past two years, nothing I did made her smile or be proud of me. No matter how far I pushed myself to the limits for Mother, she never cared.

  Mother started to teach me other things at age six as well. The pain started then. Mother had special weapons she named just for me. I should be grateful for that, I assume. 

   Every day, the pain grows even worse than it was. Mother says I need to be prepared for anything. Mother says if I ever get pulled in to get tortured and have to talk, a real solider would never let his comrades down and give information away. 

  It started with the whip. Every other day, it was the whip to my back. Mother only gave me every other day so some of my wounds would heal. Then when whip day would come, they reopened. 

  Mother taught me a lot of things. How to hold my breath for a minute, I had to keep on expanding my breath till I could hold it up to three minutes. 

 Stab wounds, I had to get stab wounds in many different places. 

  Whips, electric torture, beating till I blacked out, running for my life till my lungs almost exploded, burning, freezing almost to death, razor blade to skin, no oxygen, etc. I went through every single one on a daily basis. I mastered half of them by the time I was six and seven years old. 

  The rest still happens because I haven't gotten used to them. But the pros of being put through all of this is, I will feel no pain soon. 

 No oxygen, I have learned to slow my breathing and put myself in a coma like state until my body senses the oxygen and then I can breathe. Surviving insane heat and coldness, it helps with hunting and learning to be in any kind of weather. 

   So on and so forth, everything Mother did was for a good cause I feel as. The key to every torture form Mother taught me was, stay silent, and enjoy the pain. All I had to do was stay silent and embrace the pain because it would keep on happening no matter what I did. As on, I learned to hunt, trail animal tracks, track down anyone, and so much other stuff. 

This was a normal life. Wasn't it?