I walked back home in silence, feeling myself being watched by... Something. Today was a pretty crazy day, considering the fact that all I wanted to do was wash my hair.
I drop my bag when I get to my room, and go straight to the bathroom, my black hair slowly replacing my curly, blonde locks. I undress and step in the shower.
Soon, I was out and drying off, then I went to my closet and pulled on a matching set of black bra and panties, covering them with a casual t-shirt and sweatpants.
I lazily walk into the kitchen and start making some dough for a pastry pig that I've seen once in a store. After putting it down to sit for an hour, I sit at my laptop and open up the news.
I haven't been browsing for more than ten minutes when I was hit with a drowsy spell, so I went to lay down. I was out like a light, but that's never a good sign in my case.
It's quite difficult for a war veteran to sleep, and for a victim of abuse it is not much easier. I was born into a rich family, and I was raised in it alongside 9 other children. However, my mother died upon giving birth to me, and my dad went insane, so I was abused the majority of my childhood, and after my father killed himself, on my birthday, no less, I was immediately entered into the army, and from there start another set of nightmares.
Now, right now, I was plagued with the nightmares of his death, I couldn't wake up. The pure fear from these memories is indescribable.
He woke me up at midnight, holding his usual whip, with his knife in his left pocket, in case I misbehaved. He usually let me sleep the night, but I guess he wasn't in the mood tonight. Couldn't sleep?
He dragged me to the attic, and from there started what can only be described as the worst beating of my life. On top of that, he raped me. But, by now, I was used to the rape. When he was finally finished, he tied me down to a chair, and commanded to be silent until someone came to untie us.
I assumed it would be him.
He went downstairs, and came back up dragging a half-asleep Luka by his arm. I couldn't talk to him a lot, because he was a practicing mage and was always away, but we had the closest bond. And yet, he was the only one of my nine brothers who didn't know about the abuse, as well as one of the four who never took part in it. He started torturing the poor boy as well, leaving deep red marks on his pure white albino skin.
When he was done, he tied Luka up alongside us and pulled out a gun.
Now, we were raised in the godly realms, but we knew what a gun was. Luka feared his life, he was begging the man to reconsider, but all I wanted was death. I knew it was no release, because he kept bringing me back every time he killed me, but to Luka, this was foreign.
Then, the unthinkable happened. The attic has a clear view of the main clock tower in manor, and I clearly remember, on the chime of 4am, of All Hallow's Eve, my father shot himself in the chest after shoving an envelope between my legs.
Five hours of struggle and bonding later, Luka and I had been saved by a servant who was tasked with ascending to the attic and reading a letter. The young man was only 18, at most. Unmarried, and innocent. Completely new.
The letter was a suicide note. It admitted to crimes, gave evidence of my brothers abusing me, and demanding the rest flee to Midgard, until "The heir is called to the throne", whatever that means. After being in the army for five years, I moved to Midgard with Luka, living in a quaint house with an incredible sum of money, and yet he went and got a job on Wall Street.....
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So... I think I'll be working on fixing these stories instead of updating them, for now..
