(Oshi no ko) Love on Broken Strings

7: Years Ago

By now, you may have figured out who I am. If you don't, that's fine. You will.

I'm Markus Monarch, currently 17 years old and in some form of limbo state after everything that has occurred.

I guess I can talk to you now. Weird...

Anyway, what I will tell you is due for a warning. It's not for the faint of heart. So if you get triggered by domestic violence and self-harm, please, and I mean, PLEASE, don't read what I'll say.

So, one last time, leave if you have triggers. But come back to see how I am. I know I'd like the company.

Anyway, let's get started.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was bright over the English town I originated from. Trees were littered with shining white snow on their lifeless branches, remnants of their tenants could barely be made out under the snow.

It was the last day of school before the winter break, but my plans weren't finished there.

My school was a run-of-the-mill school, not too shabby, but not too attractive either. So it was no wonder why my parents allowed me to pursue music at a young age.

As I left the school grounds alone, I could see my mother in a white car ahead of me.

My escape point.

When I entered the car, my mother greeted me with her usual bright smile and diamond-blue eyes. Her raven hair flowed down to her shoulders and she left herself a fringe; she had a forehead complex.

"How's my little Mark doing?" She asked me through her smile, her voice chirpy like one of a songbird.

"It was alright, Mum..." The reply I had once given wasn't as convincing as I wanted it to be.

It was difficult to hide anything from her. She would know exactly what happened, down to the dust I picked up, from how I act.

The smile that once lit up her face faded away into the darkness of a frown. Her gaze slowly tore away from me as she opened her mouth.

"Was it the headteacher? Did he notice your..." her voice trailed off into the sound of silence.

"Dad's," I corrected my mother, "Dad's whip marks? Yes. I told him they were burn marks again." I moved my hand above the sleeve of my forearm and winced as I felt the slight sting of the mark my father branded me with.

My mother remained motionless and looked at the rearview mirror of the car, adjusting it awkwardly with a shaky hand.

Although I noticed this, I didn't ask the question 'Why are you shaking?' Because the answer was clear as day.

"You need to fight him, Mum," I told her straight, looking out the window to my bleak-looking school. "He's nothing but abusive, disloyal and untrustworthy."

I heard the quiet sobs from my mother. It made my heartbreak every time I heard such a noise, but it was numbing. I heard her cry so often that I began to not care. And that's exactly what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

Like I said, my plans for that day weren't over. I had a meeting with my record label over a new song that would come out later that month.

The manager I had was alright, but I didn't see him as a friend, just another means to secure money for me and my mum.

We discussed how I should start to advertise on social media, like Instagram or TikTok, and went over dates on when I should record videos. Until...