Under Control

Side Chapter: Childhood

Greenwood pov:

My footsteps echoed on the marble flooring, each one louder than the last. Men stepped aside and let me pass, showing their respect and loyalty to me. Opening the doors for me I strode into the room, meeting another person sitting inside.

"You're early. How nice." I said, my voice even and monotone. They turned and faced me with a faceless green mask, a sign of respect.

"I know you hate waiting." Their voice is light and feminine, I know who it is but I didn't really care for them.

Striding past I sit myself at my desk, waiting for them to speak. When they didn't I let out a sigh, irritated that she was wasting my time.

"What is-"

"Plans are being pushed up." She spoke suddenly. I let a dry chuckle leave me, she's not one to be acting this way.

"On whose authority?" She tilted her head and I instantly knew. Giving in, I nodded and let it be, no need for bloodshed.

"Fine. Leave if that's all." Gracefully she stood and left my office, her heels clicking on the floor.

With her gone I was able to relax. Sending my men away I wanted to be left alone, needing a moment to myself. Reaching up to my mask I removed it carefully, placing it on the desk. Standing to my feet I turned round and looked out the massive window.

The city below sparkled and grew vibrant with life. I caught a glimpse of myself in the window, a partially disfigured face looking back. My hand tenderly touched the burned area, barely feeling it at all.

"You did this to me..."

________________________

I was a child, simple and pure. At least that is what children are supposed to be. What is a child without its innocence? A demon? A devil? A bastard? Any name you could give is what I was.

My mother was raped by a man I never knew. She kept me in fear of her father killing her and I together. He was religious and didn't believe in abortion. I sometimes wonder if it would have been better if I was never born at all.

How could I be a child of innocence if I was born of sin? I only continued to carry those sins with me and gaining new ones as I grew up.

In the end she kept me out of fear, wishing every second that it would be over and I would be out soon. When I did come out she didn't want me, she didn't even want to hold me. What mother doesn't hold their crying child? To think of it, she never held me...

She played the game well though, pretending to be a great mother in front of others, only to spit vile hatred to me behind closed doors. She never hit me but I wished she did, her words hurt more.

I was blamed for her problems, I was blamed for everything, even her death. She hung herself, I had the pleasure of finding her hanging by the rope. I would have gladly starved to death staring at her if it wasn't for that man.

My grandfather, the only person to have wanted me alive. I wish he hadn't. He was sick. He violated me, touched me, raped me, and told me it was our little secret.

My sins grew the longer this went on, my mind starting to lose itself in the wretched chaos of my life. I stopped begging at some point, just letting it happen, going through the motions. I tried to end my life at the age of five, wishing to have all my suffering come to an end.

Somehow it got worse. He would beat me, not just hit and whip me, no, beat me like some kind of animal. Oftentimes it was in a drunken rage, his anger with himself was only able to be released when nearly killing me.