4 Leaf Clover - ᴹˣᴹˣᴹˣᴹ

1.

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Clover Volvic has eventually turned 20 years old. He had been waiting for the dreadful day of festivities for a whole year. The Volvic lineage is particularly notorious in his small town - their traditions are forever commemorated with full vigour. Banners, balloons, and fireworks honour each 20th birthday as a special day. Sounds nice, right?

Clover was one of the few Volvics that came to notice it as cultic. It was strange to honour the 20th birthday so vigorously. It was a coming-of-age day in the family, the year that marks your entry into maturity. Not the 18th like every other lineage in the country - it was almost as if the Volvics had their own laws. He knew it was peculiar because of one singular custom that was sprung upon every 20-year-old Volvic.

Marriage.

It was not optional. You couldn't pick and choose. You couldn't say no. Since the 1700's, the Volvics have arranged marriages for their children. It started with Clover's ancestor because Mr. Volvic was frightened his family name would be wiped out due to his daughters and sons not marrying, or not living past 15 years old. That's right, the age to be wed off was 15, at least back in the day.

Times had modified, not much for the Volvic family, but they weren't exempted from the existing law. 20 was the renewed age, only to evade arrest for minor negligence.

Each living Volvic were expected to bear offspring - even if it was one. The Elders would preach about each offspring being a blessing, and infertility a condemnation. They said that if a Volvic can't bear children, they would be eternally condemned to suffering and the fury of their ancestors. Clover wasn't persuaded.

Clover, despite being a part of the Volvic family, had grown up accepting his own sentiments. When Clover turned 5 years old, he discovered his parents lied to him a lot. He was just an inquisitive kid, he spent his time wanting to learn but his parents would lie to him about things. Clover, at just 5 years old, wouldn't comprehend why his parents would tell him contrasting things than what he read in school.

Later, Clover understood his parents had disordered opinions of the world. They would lecture misogyny, females were utilised as baby-makers, and they shouldn't work full-time jobs. Men operate the household and shouldn't be expected to cook after working 10 hours a day - the Volvics were notoriously businessmen. Children were to be intelligent but only accept the Volvic beliefs, they were readied like dogs to believe their parents.

Clover never knew how he could've been so impressionable as a kid, but as he grew up, he learned his parents were very manipulative and dangerous. They kept a tight grip on him, nothing from the outside of their small town could convince him otherwise. Clover was wiser than the bible that loitered in the hallway of his house, he was smarter than the sermons he observed, he was more intelligent than his glorified parents.

Clover, as his birthday celebrations proceeded, vacated the premises of his home. He had one singular backpack on his shoulders and his only pair of clothing that he had purchased himself. A dark green jumper, prohibited in his house for being too 'comfortable', and some joggers which were forbidden also. Clover understood he hadn't grown up like other kids, he was sheltered, disregarded and abused.

He was the child of a cult.

Clover wandered down the streets he knew, beyond his small catholic school, then down streets unfamiliar to him. He kept strolling, never glancing back, never thinking about what might be occurring back at home. Clover knew his parents would be ballistic, terrorised with seething rage. Walking away from traditions was forgetting everything he had come to discover, even value at times.

Ultimately, it was for his security, for his own values. Clover had recognised he wasn't ordinary when he turned 11. He had got his hands on a book in town, the first time he was authorised to be out independently. Clover was sure he wasn't supposed to witness what he saw, but it altered something in him and made him discover something that had been concealed within him. He persisted in disguising it, he knew his parents would believe him condemned.

However, Clover refused to wed a woman. He could tolerate the negligence, the tight handle they had on him, he could endure the bible readings and the sermons but he refused to be lied to any longer. Marrying a woman would render him in eternal dissatisfaction and sorrow, his fate would be unfortunate and he couldn't tolerate that. Clover had some authority, some control over his life which had been concealed behind his obedience and submission.

So, he ran away. He was deliberately going missing, slipping off the grid to free himself of his cult-like family, keen to sell him to his evermore grief. Clover had no idea what he was doing, he was just hoping he could calculate his course and where he could live out the remnant of his life. Clover had no additional education after secondary school, he was expected to take part in the company but after running away, he wasn't certain if he could locate a job easily.

Clover kept roaming till eventually, he discovered himself encircled by towering structures. High-rise buildings indicated that Clover had ventured into the giant city, about 2 hours worth of walking. He glanced around, detecting a few individuals sitting between stores, lying outside of expensive-looking buildings. Clover was sheltered, but he understood that those people were homeless and even unstable.

He was homeless, he realised. He had limited funds on him; he had to steal some before departing. He never had money of his own, his parents frequently declared he would use it to purchase items which would corrupt him. Clover concluded he could use his remaining money for meals or water - something to get him beyond the first few days while he job-hunted.

Firstly, Clover settled beneath a bridge. It was damp, muddy and a little bit frigid but Clover would merrily put up with it rather than give up his willpower and return home to the outrage of the Volvics. It's just for tonight, Clover told himself.

One night under a bridge, Clover readied himself. He had one coat pressed into his backpack, with his stolen wallet and some rice crackers. He had his old school ID on him, as some form of identification. If he was to find a job, he would have to excuse his lack of certificates. There wasn't much justification, just that his family did home tutoring to take over corporations instead of attending college, and therefore he didn't have any forms of experience or ID.

Clover wished his new life wouldn't be as tough as he thought, and he hoped he could do something straightforward to get onto his feet. As he put his coat over his body and put his backpack under his head, he settled down for the first night underneath the bridge.

The following morning was glowing and the sunshine was radiating down. Clover was isolated, the stillness of the morning was off-putting, a contrast to the rackety talking of his parents forcing him up. He consumed a rice cracker, stood up and wandered into the city again. Clover was anxious to walk into establishments and ask if they were employing, so he avoided most of them and rather looked for shops that had posters saying they were hiring.

He asked people just in case, gave them his ID and somehow requested to speak to the supervisor or boss before being asked for any sort of certificates. He managed to talk to a friendly man, approachable enough that Clover felt comfortable conveying to the man his distressing circumstances.

The man invited him with open arms, surprising Clover. His first day of employment began tomorrow, where he would acquire his earnings weekly in cash. Clover had no phone, his parents were strong believers that social media was produced by the devil, and meant to poison the minds of the youth.

Clover was delighted that the job hunting had turned out extremely effortless - he wasn't being paid much, only £8 an hour. A part of his mind assumed that he was being exploited, doing more labour for less pay than others in the shop but he didn't whine. He was in no condition too, he was homeless and appreciative of anything. His first job, his first lot of knowledge in the world outside of his birthplace and his own money.

He would spend it on security and purchase a tent in a more sheltered area. Clover would buy some fresh attire and hopefully, another backpack to keep them inside safely. He wanted to purchase that book, the book that evoked that transformation in him. Where would he find it? Was there a bookshop around here?

Clover's second night beneath the bridge was more comfortable than the night before. He had located the spot in the earth that moulded to his body so he could rest better. The evening was a bit more sterner than yesterday but Clover's mentality was set on getting adequate rest for his day of employment tomorrow.