𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐃'𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐄, childe

( VEINTIDOS. )

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[ PAST: 7 YEARS AGO ]

    SHE LAID on the thin, lumpy mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling above her. The dim light of the single bare bulb cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper, adding to the effect of neglect to their home. The smell of rot clung to the air, mingling with the faint scent of stale cigarettes and cheap booze that the men would bring over.

    She could hear them again — those lewd, grotesque noises seeping through the paper-thin walls. The creaking of the bed, the muffled grunts and moans, and her mother's forced laughter echoed in her ears, each sound a sharp dagger piercing her mind. It was unbearable. It threatened to split her head in half.

    She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her palms against her ears in a desperate attempt to block out the noise, but it was no use. The sounds were relentless, a constant reminder of the grim reality of their life. Her mother had no other choice; this was how they survived, how they kept a roof — such as it was — over their heads and food on the table. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to endure.

    (Y/N) felt a wave of disgust wash over her, a nauseating blend of shame and revulsion. The shame was a constant weight on her shoulders, a gnawing ache in her chest. She was embarrassed by their poverty, by the degrading means of their survival.

    She dreaded the day that Ajax would ask to hang out on her home and find out what her mother did to make ends meet.

    Tears stung her eyes as she curled into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible as she shut her eyes close. She wished for silence. For peace and quiet in their small and cramped home. And in an instant, silence was granted.

    Are they done? She then tried to open her eyes, only to be startled by the sound of rattling noise of something close to metal hitting the cold ground. What was that?

    The sound of foot steps then took over the previous one, and soon, the loud bang of the door shutting. (Y/N) gulped as she slowly removed her hands from her ears, then sitting up. She then hesitantly stood up on her feet before taking a few steps forward — headed to her mother's room. She knew what she was about to see, she knew that it was going to be nothing but disappointing, yet things couldn't possibly get worse than this.

    She then took a peek inside her mother's room, only to see her bent down, picking the bits of Mora  scattered across the cold floor one by one. She was as slow as a snail as her fingers trembled, naturally so. She was disheveled, her hair was sprawled across her face and she didn't even take the time to tidy herself up. She was only able to drape the blanket across her body.

    (Y/N) gulped, "Mom, I, um..."

    The older woman immediately ran her fingers across her hair, combing it to make herself presentable before facing her daughter, "Yes, dear?"

    "You..." she cleared her throat, averting her gaze, "you don't have to do this stuff for a few days. I, um... I was able to sell some... meat that I hunted to some butchers. I-I saved enough for a few days, so..."

    Her gaze softened, "My (Y/N) is so independent... But well, why don't you use those for something else? Say, buy yourself a dress. Or, hold on, save up for your future?"

    As if I have one.

    "It's fine, mom. Please, I just..."