BELLADONNA

Chp 5 : same tired routine

BREAKING NEWS:

The recent crimes in Nightshade are hauntingly reminiscent of the notorious serial killer, "Belladonna." A grim discovery near the Han River has sent shockwaves through the city, as a group of couples out for a nighttime stroll stumbled upon a grisly scene and promptly alerted the authorities. Initial investigations suggest that this is yet another chilling act attributed to Belladonna.
The victim, none other than the esteemed actress A, adds a layer of complexity to the already unsettling circumstances. Known not only for her talent on screen but also for her recent entanglements in various drug-related controversies, Actress A's demise has sent ripples of dismay throughout the entertainment industry.
Tragically, Actress A met a gruesome end, having been subjected to five stab wounds and enduring unimaginable torture. The brutality of the crime underscores the severity of Belladonna's reign of terror, leaving the community on edge and authorities scrambling to apprehend the perpetrator before more lives are lost to this relentless menace.

What is even happening these days? Why do people do these acts, don't they get scared of karma?" Mom voiced her disbelief to me.

"Mom, that's why they are psychopaths, they find calm in killing people and doing horrendous acts," I replied, my tone tinged with resignation.

"Antheia, are you reading another crime fiction story?" she asked, noticing my absorbed expression.

Of course, Mom. You know how much I love crime stories, but only in fiction. In real life, it's worse, and I hate to hear so many stories. I mean, there are so many people out there with families, and if one of their beloved ones gets murdered this brutally, isn't that unfair? What wrong did they do to deserve these types of deaths?" I mused aloud, grappling with the senselessness of it all.

You're right," Mom agreed solemnly, "that quote wasn't wrong that I read somewhere, that hell is empty as all monsters are present in the world."

"Truly," I sighed, feeling the weight of the world's injustices pressing down on us.

Okay, enough of this topic, Mom. I wanted to tell you that even though we're on break right now, our college is taking us on a field trip. It's more like a volunteering work. We'll go to the countryside area and help with work. Some elders live there," I explained eagerly.

"Antheia, no! You are not going anywhere!" Mom's abrupt refusal caught me off guard.

"But, Mom..."

"No buts, end of discussion!"

A surge of anger coursed through me, and I couldn't contain it any longer.

What do you mean 'end of discussion'? I'm nineteen years old, Mama, an adult. I can make my own life decisions, but here I am still listening to you like a good daughter. I don't care what you say; if I said I will go, then I will. I'm tired of constantly abiding by your commands. Am I just a toy to you? You never say anything to Sarah and Aleena. They're always going out with their friends or wherever they want to go. Why all the restrictions on me only?" I exclaimed, my frustration boiling over.

"What's with all this shouting?" Dad's voice interrupted as he entered the room.

Your youngest daughter is being jealous of her elder sisters and making a drama," Mom accused, her tone filled with disappointment.

A stinging slap landed on my left cheek, leaving it throbbing with pain.

"What is your mom saying? Are you out of your mind?" Dad's voice was laced with disbelief.

"I'm never jealous of my sisters. What's so great about both of them for me to be jealous? That's such a baseless accusation, Dad. I was just asking for some permission, but Mom loves to create drama," I retorted, the sting of the slap still lingering.

Another slap followed, and I recoiled from the force.

"Is that how you talk to your dad about your mom? Where are your manners? And I don't care about whatever you were talking about; to hell with it! Because of you, my wife was shouting," Dad chastised, his disappointment palpable.

"Wow! Such a beautiful love you both have, even after twenty-five years of marriage. You truly don't care about my side of the story, do you? You just care about your wife... Really? What rubbish," I muttered bitterly, feeling the sting of betrayal.

With one final slap, they left my room, and I immediately locked the door behind them.

They say youngest children are the most spoiled brats, but they're wrong. My life is a living hell being the youngest in the house. It's suffocating in here. I'm never jealous of my sisters. I adore Sarah and Aleena the most, even though sometimes they treat me poorly. We don't have much of an age difference. Sarah is four years older than me, and Aleena is only one year older. But what I hate is that Mom always praises them. Sometimes it feels like I'm the adopted one. The urge to take a DNA test right now is overwhelming.

Feeling a bitter taste in my mouth, I realized Dad had hit me so hard on the cheeks that the inside was bleeding. Rushing to the bathroom, I winced at the sight of my swollen, bloodshot eyes from hours of crying. I was a mess. Stripping off my clothes, I stood under the cold water, finding instant relief.

As I stood there, I reflected on whether I had said anything hurtful or wrong to Mom and Dad. But this time, I hadn't. I'm a short-tempered person and often say hurtful things in the heat of the moment, only to regret them later when I'm calm. But this time, I spoke the truth, and Mom's reaction was unwarranted. Truth can indeed be bitter to hear.

What hurt the most was Mom's tendency to create drama, while Dad was always quick to resort to violence. I'd lost count of how many times Dad had hit me. And when it came to Sarah and Aleena, Mom and Dad treated them with such favoritism. Comparing our treatment always left me feeling bitter and resentful. The disparity was glaring.

As my emotions surged, I yearned for freedom. Clad only in my bathrobe, I ventured outside and settled into my chair by the window, gazing at the starry night sky. It offered an unexpected peace amidst the turmoil within me. Suddenly, an idea struck me-ice cream. We didn't have any at home, but I could sneak out for a treat. Dodging my strict parents wouldn't be new; I'd mastered the art of escaping through my window countless times, thanks to our low ceilings.

Changing into my favorite black shirt and track trousers, I aimed to blend into the darkness of the night. It was 2 am when I ventured out, but just as I stepped outside, I collided with someone.

"Ah, damn it!"