𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙮 YANDERE!Knyboysxfemreader

CHAPTER 32: Family.

Y/n pov

I took a shaky breath, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. "What... what just happened" I thought as I was in the bathroom...

◀──Dream date diary──➤
✉︎──夢デート日記──✉︎

⚠️Self harm, mention of trauma,⚠️

──Flashback──

The pain of their constant bickering and yelling had become unbearable, and I felt like I was suffocating in this toxic environment. I had tried to escape their wrath by locking myself in my room, but even the walls couldn't shield me from the chaos that ensued. The tension in the air was palpable, and I could feel it weighing down on me like a heavy burden.

I had always been the peacekeeper in the family, trying to mediate their arguments and calm the storm that raged between them. But today, I had reached my breaking point. I couldn't take it anymore. The emotional turmoil had become too much to bear, and I needed an outlet for my pain and anger.

As I sat there, clutching the blade in my hands, I knew that this was my only way out. The physical pain of the cut was nothing compared to the emotional agony that consumed me every day. I needed to release the pent-up emotions that threatened to consume me whole.

In that moment, as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I knew that I had to find a way to break free from this cycle of abuse and dysfunction. I couldn't continue to be a prisoner in my own home, held captive by the toxic dynamics of my family. It was time to find the strength within myself to stand up and fight for my own happiness and well-being.

As tears streamed down my face, I tightly clutched the blade within my trembling hands. Seeking solace, I retreated to the bathroom, where I caught a glimpse of my disheveled appearance in the mirror. Puffy eyes and unkempt hair reflected the pain I felt inside. With each sob, my resentment grew, fueling a burning hatred towards the person responsible. In a moment of desperation, I made a decision that would forever alter my life. Slashing my wrist, I slowly sank to the floor, leaning against the edge of the bathtub.

With each slash of the blade, I felt a sense of release and relief wash over me. The blood that flowed from my wrist was a physical manifestation of the pain that had been festering inside me for so long. And as I sank to the floor, the tears continued to fall, but this time they were tears of catharsis.

As my blood dripped from the wound, a single thought consumed my mind: What had I done to deserve this torment? This question plagued me daily, as the toxic environment within my own home, as my sanity slips away within the confines of this house.My father, the source of my disdain, perpetuated this cycle of misery, while my mother offered no respite. Overwhelmed by the sound of their incessant arguing,The sound of their arguments echoed in the background, and I couldn't help but mutter, "Please, stop fighting. I hate it when you two argue. Can't you just be a normal couple and family?" My words were drowned out by my sobs.

I pleaded for them to stop, yearning for a semblance of normalcy within our family, hoping for a change that seemed increasingly elusive how could they do this to their own daughter?

The treatment I received from my own parents is truly unfathomable. They showed no remorse and saw me merely as an academic tool to flaunt in front of our relatives. What's even more disheartening is that our relatives were fully aware of the situation, yet chose to remain silent, deeming it "rude" to interfere in others' lives.

Initially, my mother was not like this. She used to be a very happy person. However, ever since my biological father passed away, she hasn't been the same. She married my current father as a means to cope with her heartbreak, but that does not justify her taking out her anger on me. She doesn't have the right to ruin someone's life because their life is already rotten

In the beginning, I would defend my mother against the toxic temper of my current father. However, she would dismiss his behavior by saying, "he's just drunk, he doesn't mean it." But deep down, I knew that a person's true thoughts come out when they are intoxicated. Both of them subjected me to physical and mental abuse, gradually eroding my sanity. Eventually, my mother started staying silent and even sided with him when he would hurl insults or mistreat me.

It was as if she had completely lost her own voice and identity, succumbing to the toxic environment that had enveloped our household. I became nothing more than a pawn in their twisted game, a punching bag for their frustrations and insecurities.

The emotional scars I bear from those years are deep and lasting. I grew up in a constant state of fear and anxiety, never knowing when the next outburst or attack would occur. The once vibrant and happy child I used to be was slowly extinguished, replaced by a shell of a person, constantly on edge and desperate for any semblance of love or acceptance.

The worst part was the isolation. Our relatives, who were fully aware of the abuse, turned a blind eye, choosing to prioritize their own comfort and societal expectations over my well-being. Their silence spoke volumes, reinforcing the notion that my suffering was insignificant and unworthy of intervention. I was left to navigate the treacherous waters of my own home, drowning in a sea of neglect and indifference.

As I grew older, I began to question why I deserved such treatment. What had I done to warrant such cruelty? The answer, of course, was nothing. No child should ever be subjected to such torment, regardless of the circumstances. It was a realization that fueled my determination to break free from the chains that bound me to this toxic environment.

I sought solace in education, throwing myself into my studies as a means of escape. It became my refuge, a place where I could momentarily forget the pain and find a glimmer of hope for a better future. I excelled academically, not only to prove my worth to myself but also to defy the expectations placed upon me by my parents and relatives.

But even as I achieved success, the scars remained. The wounds inflicted upon me by my own parents had left a lasting impact on my self-esteem and ability to trust others. It took years of therapy and self-reflection to begin the healing process, to learn that I was not defined by the abuse I endured.

The treatment I received from my own parents will forever be a part of my story, but it does not define me. I learned to  distract myself temporarily by drowning myself in studies it wasn't the best but it did the job they had removed my door saying "you always isolate in your room that's the reason" the only reason I did it BECAUSE OF THEIR CONSTANT FIGHTING i always questioned what would happen if i didn't exist in their lives? Would they be happier? Would they be more miserable? I always had these questions but they were never answered Until *redacted*came along my answers weren't answered but i still got freedom from my unbearable family i will get out of here with my own effort.

◀──Dream date diary──➤
✉︎──夢デート日記──✉︎

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