Ciel Phantomhive x Reader: Denying the truth That Dwells Within

Chapter 1: Hellish Home, Sweet Home

Chapter 1: Hellish Home, Sweet Home

Your POV:

There are two kinds of people in this world, those who steal and those who are stolen from. That's what I always told myself. This 'home,' was held up with the greed of those who steal. I am ashamed to admit, I am one as well. I steal, to survive. I don't want to. I have to, my family forces me to. "Y/n, go steal that sausage since you're skinny and agile." They would say. When they themselves are capable of spending their own money on necessities but refuse to because they believe it's their 'duty' to become the richest in England. How foolish. How crude. How selfish. It makes me sick. I do believe they will succeed in this horrendous plan. My parents are cream puffed, sugar coated, cold hearted, abusive people. When I turned 10, they would beat me for not retrieving the stolen items quickly enough. The red slashes would burn so brightly that they mocked me, calling me vulgar names. "Oh y/n, you are so very ugly! I'm very glad you won't be around long enough to be betrothed to an Earl and embarrass them for eons!" My mother would insult. "Yes, mother." I would monotonously reply. Smack! Smack! My cheeks would inflame from red hot contact from my father's hand. "Worthless! Worthless! Worthless!" He would chant after every slap. Oddly enough my eyes didn't prick with tears, not even in the slightest. I would just take all his impacts and only respond with one phrase. "yes, father." It was hell. "Y/n! You're not fit to wear anything so elegant!! You're practically swine!" My sister would sneer day after day as my e/c eyes would skim over her dress. "You're a little girl, weak, stupid, & uneducated!" They would mock. Although I found it quite hilarious how they used two different words for the same definition, but I didn't dare bring it up. Crack! Crack! My bones would fracture, my skin would burn, my eyes would sting, my heart would weaken. My skin would soon wear to be pale as snow, strong as diamond, & rough as rock. My blood ran cold, frozen. Over the years I grew numb, emotionless, one might even say I'd lost all feelings. The only times I experienced pleasure, were the milliseconds that I spent reading. Secretly of course, id never get to read on my own of course. Learning was all I desired. I yearned to learn how to feel emotions again, how to gain back my feel, gain back the void in my heart. Cold, yes I am. Hurt, yes I am. Accepted, no I'm not. And it wasn't going to happen soon. I drummed my slender, wound infested, fingers gently on the mahogany frame of the window. The clean wood was obscured with the scratches of my anger, back when I could feel. It seemed at that moment, I had lost myself. Tapping the wood in a hypnotic rhythm. All life left in my e/c eyes were drained. All the way. My eyes were simply a cloud of dulled color, no emotion, life, interest whatsoever. My charred h/l h/c tresses flew softly in the gentle breeze. I felt as if I was in pure bliss, only for a few moments. Until my door slammed open. Bang! The debt i was in was major this round. "Y/n!" A gruff voice growled. I closed my eyes and hitched my breath. As expected, my body was beaten, fractured. I was grateful for the stamina, the toughness, of my body. It had served me well over the years. "Stupid! Stupid!"
"Yes, father."
"Hideous! Hideous! Hideous! Hideous! An absolute disgrace!"
"Yes, father." My voice grew inaudible as my body grew tired, impact after impact, the energy I never possessed in the first place, floated into my father. His eyes grew wild, his hands grew weaker. He was tiring, eventually I was left with my thoughts. "I forgot how to smile." I randomly stated in the blue. "Because you're ugly!" A preteen voice screeched behind me. My shoulders loosened. "Ruby." I greeted. My dearest sibling laughed maniacally. Ruby never really harmed me physically. She usually verbally abused me. Good thing I'm an expert in deflecting all their remarks. Her words, insults, soon became incoherent as I stared at the mysterious painting in the room. A picture of a boy, a mother, & father all happily infront of a beautiful Victorian manor. "Hey dumbass!" Ruby's voice tore me from my deductive observation. "Yes, Ruby?" I asked monotonously of course. "You're a disgrace." She sneered. "Yes, sister." I replied. I didn't even care what she had to say. I've heard all of them. Suddenly my thoughts were chopped due to my door slamming along with Ruby herself. My e/c eyes grazed upon the mysterious painting once again. "Who are these people?" I muttered incoherently. I stepped closer to the painting. After all these years, I finally took recognition of the artwork. Reading the small gothic print on the frame, it read "Phantomhive estate." I tilted my head, causing my h/c locks to tumble down my back like cascading fragrance. Charred, chaffed, scourged, it may be, it still held some type of beauty. My eyes trained on the tempting bookshelf. "Phantomhive estate.." I murmured as I rummaged through the clustered books. "Encyclopedia...encyclopedia.." I whispered as I continued to search for one. The dusty old shelves creaked as I rummaged through various documents, until my eyes fell upon the book. I eagerly snagged the historical book and flipped to the "History-P" section. As my e/c scanned the printed letters, my eyes fell upon the name I was looking for. "Phantomhive." My weary body drew in a sharp inhale as I read the description. "The Phantomhive manor is currently run by the Earl Phantomhive, Ciel Phantomhive. Original owners (Ciel's parents) were killed in a devastating fire. As to this day, the mansion, Funtom company, & estate are all run by the 13-year old boy himself, Ciel Phantomhive." My usually lifeless orbs lightened up with interest. He must've been through hell to be able to still run his family's name. Perhaps he is a kind person? Perhaps not? Is even doing this alone? He IS quite young. My thoughts were fractured as I heard faint footsteps making their way to my bedroom. Mother. She was the worst. I scrambled to my bed and quickly sat down, leaving the book behind. I was going to be in a lot of trouble. My door swung open and there stood my elegantly wicked mother. "Good Evening, Madam L/N." I nervously greeted with my palm sweating. "Ah, if it isn't my dreadful birth defect. How are you this fine evening? Just kidding, I do not care in the slightest. Say, has your kind sister & father visited you today? I was told that you paid your price! I'm here to..worsen it." A maniacal laugh simmers in her thin Crimson lips and melted off like butter. Regardless of how skilled I was in deflecting words, my mother knew loopholes to get me to listen. She knew my tricks and cheats. She knew them so well that she knew just how to exactly avoid them. I can not even explain the immense torture she put me through. For somebody my age, the blood I lost should've killed me. Science, however; decided to defy its own laws and somehow allow me to live. Mother is a human specialist, meaning she specializes in every field relating to the human being. Psychology allowed her to break my loopholes and her bodily knowledge allowed her an advantage to add even more pain to my torture.