Chapter 6: A Child's Memory

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A scene materialized amidst the darkness; sharp and vivid like a shard of broken glass.

A bottle of alcohol shattered around the floor, glinting like broken teeth as they stuck out from the puddle of dark liquid. The smell of liquor mingled nauseatingly with the scent of something... coppery.

"Filthy brat... You're good for nothing...!"

A man's angry voice rang out from the shadows. Its harshness cutting through the air like a razor.

The small child cowered against the wall— her small form shrouded in shadow. She shivered and whimpered like a wounded animal; the terror evident in every movement of her trembling body.

"Useless... Weakling..."

The voice continued to growl. Each word was like a lash across the child's spirit.

The scene then unfurled like a grotesque tableau. With a snarl of fury, the man raised his foot and delivered a savage kick at the cowering child. The sound of impact was a sickening crunch that seemed to resonate through your very bones.

The child could only let out a cry of pain that echoed like a soul-shattering sob. Blood splattered the floor, the scarlet drops a stark contrast against the dark liquid spilled from the broken bottle.

She looked up at the man which was her father with pleading eyes, tears streaming down her face, but she was powerless to stand up against him. He was much bigger and stronger— towering over her like an invincible giant.

A cruel smile was playing on his lips as he watched her cower before him.

"You'll never be anything but a worthless, useless weakling."

_____

The scene shifted, and the chaos of the previous moment gave way to a momentary lull. The child was now curled up on the cold floor, her small form shivering and trembling. She had huddled into a tight ball, trying to find some warmth and security in the cold, hard ground.

Her body was battered and bruised, the evidence of the man's wrath plain to see in the swollen lumps and cuts that marked her skin. The child's eyes were closed. As for her breathing, they were slow and shallow. It was clear that she was asleep, though certainly not peacefully.

"You useless, stupid little child!"

The tranquility of the scene was shattered as the child's mother appeared, her face twisted in anger and frustration as she seized hold of the child's hair. The child just let out another cry of terror and pain, her small body writhing in a vain attempt to escape the cruel grip.

"This is all your fault!" The mother shouted.

"Look at what you went and did!"

"I did nothing wrong..!" The child tried to defend.

Although her words were only met with a sharp swat to her head.

"Don't you dare talk back to me! You've done nothing but cause trouble ever since you were born!"

The mother continued to harangue the child as she poured out her anger onto the defenseless girl. She just keeps ranting and raved.

"You cost me a fortune, you little wench! I put everything I had, everything I owned, on that bet, and I lost it all because of you!"

"This is all your fault. If you hadn't been born, I'd still be rich. Your mere existence is a curse on my life!"

"But–"

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