Multiverse Mayhem...again?

A memory

"Memories, things I sometimes hardly remembered unless I focused. Sometimes I hardly understand how humans can deal with always having an idea of whats happening"

Tremya walked, her blue and white time themed dress swaying in a till as she walked with huggable blue teddy behind her. The halls were fancy and decorated with eye-pleasing colors, family pictures and portraits decorating the walls...

Portraits that would later been thrown into an attic and forgotten just like all the things her father would dim imperfect on a whim. 

She stopped at a room of her father, the light green haired man in a suit with a white bowtie keeping his ponytail together, yelling at servants to get rid of items he was deeming imperfect once more. Tremya didn't understand why her father would do this, but sometimes she did. Sometimes the items were sliced and burned, who did this was also unknown.

Her father didn't so much as bat an eye at Tremya, urging the servants who did notice her to "get rid of the horrid items" faster. She just walked away, taking the chance to enjoy the break before books and books were assigned to her again. 

Her father was a god of knowledge, and he loved to brag how he knew everything as the god of knowledge, about how great it was. According to her mother, thats why they never had guests. Tremya was glad, she knew if guests were here her father would snatch that teddy bear that was almost her height (all be it a few inches shorter) while forcing her to stand proper and talk proper. He was always like that at every event, making sure she used the right fork or spoon while her mother would scold him for being too harsh on a twelve year old.

Worst of all, she had to eat the overly-fancy food. Even the vegetables that may or may not have been in the food. Who cares about how nice it looked or how all the flavors went together? Tremya just wanted simple food like soup. She was always grateful when they just served soup, it was a rare blessing from having to worry which fork to use.

She picked up her pace as she saw the jar of cookies on the kitchen island. If the servants were here they'd scold her that she had to ask her parents. If she got lucky and she was busy reading a lot of books they'd have pity on her and give her a cookie to eat while hiding in a cabinet because usually if it was one of those days she had snuck over while her father looked away for a second. 

The servants weren't here, either in the kitchen making the food for dinner or desperately trying not to get fired during one of her father's sudden episodes of deeming things imperfect and yelling for them to get rid of such items. Her father wasn't here, and the reason why was quite obvious. So she set down her blue teddy that she had been hugging and climbed up the stool. Yes she was tall enough to just hop on, but her father and mother not here to stop her just made this feel like a rebellious feat which made it fun. Snickering as she sat improperly on the stool she grabbed the cookie jar....

Suddenly it was a truck full of memories hit her, memories all flashing at once that made her head hurt.

Memories of what happened after episodes of her father deeming things imperfect, which where long fights between her mother and father while she played with her toys or slept. Her mother fighting over how her father constantly gave her new things to learn or study and that she should have time to be a child while her father said that was a bunch of crap. Memories of her father planning this or that carefully, not caring how difficult or even cruel it would be for a mere child.

They all came flooding to her in an instant, all of them. The cookie jar falling to the ground and shattering into all its porcelain pieces snapped her out of her thoughts, making her jolt once more. The pieces were all over the kitchen island and the fancy marble tiles, which left a few cracks from the impact too. The cookies, ironically, were just fine despite all the pieces of porcelain.

"Tremya!" Her father's voice exclaimed, either scolding her or just exclaiming he was worried.

Tremya, with her new information, highly doubted it was the second option. He walked over, quickly checking if she was ok like if he actually did care for her wellbeing. She smacked his hand off of her, which easily pissed him off.

"Tremya what in the heavens was that for!? And didn't I tell you to not touch the cookies! Worst of all your sitting improperly again!" Her father harshly scolded as he held the area she smacked

"Like you actually care!" Tremya snapped, tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

"Tremya..." Her father looked at her, with a expression a normal parent would have.

But he wasn't a normal parent.

Never had to begin with, he was a god of knowledge. How normal was that?

"You know I do care for you" He lied so easily it added salt to the newly opened wound

"Quit lying! I'm just your stupid pawn!" Tremya yelled, throwing a piece of the broken cookie jar at her father

He easily dodged, "You brat!"

Just as predicted, his caring facade faded in the blink of an eye. He slapped her harshly without a single ounce of regret. Tremya froze, her father hadn't slapped her before...not until now.

After that day, she watched as her father yelled at the servants.... the halls she would walk along no longer decorated by the portraits. Not even the ones of her father himself. As she sat in the waiting room, waiting for the birth of her sister....it all made sense.