Shattered promises // JJK

Chapter 4: D E S E R T E D

He left me. Just like everyone else in my life. I don't know why I am surprised anyway; it is like a pattern now. My parents left me in front of an orphanage when I was 3 months old in a cardboard box. They didn't even have the decency to register me, at least. The people from the orphanage found me in the morning. I was in a bad condition due to the cold. They took me to the hospital, and I survived by a miracle. I have had sinus issues ever since.

I had a horrible childhood at the orphanage. Not only did they not treat us well, but there was also a lack of resources. We never had enough food, clothes, tools to learn, etc. And of course, my unlucky self could not secure an adopter until I was 17. When I was 17, some rich Asian folks visited us, and I was finally chosen. I was so happy because the orphanage could not keep me after I turned 18.

My adopters flew me to their hometown, Seoul, South Korea. Soon after, I found out they did not care about me. They were some sort of government officials trying to improve their profile, and nothing is more pitiful than a poor African teenager with no relatives. They treated me as a housemaid; on top of that, they were racist, avoiding me like dirt. Their affection was only existent in front of people and cameras. They took me to a lot of events and galas, pretending as if we were a happy family, with fake smiles plastered on our faces. It was very tiring at that moment, but I was grateful because of the public figures I befriended there.

After a year of faking, once their image improved, they kicked me out. I signed a confidential NDA not to say a word about them. They announced to the public that I wanted to go independent and that they provided me with everything I needed. Newsflash: they didn't give me a penny. It was hard to stand on my own two feet for a while. The only thing that helped me pull through was by pulling strings using my last name and the people I met at those events. When I first came here, my foster parents changed my name to Choi La-Ra, registering me under their family. Here in Korea, what I noticed is that a few families have powerful connections.

I started a job and was able to afford rent and other expenses. To continue my education, I swallowed my pride and went to my adoptive parents, half begging, half threatening them to cover it for me. Thankfully, they did. I was able to accomplish my dream of being an artist by completing my courses at Seoul Institute of the Arts. It was a very lonely time. The people I considered friends turned their backs on me when my parents cut me off. I could not socialize with anyone after that. Honestly, it did not matter. I knew no one in my life lasted. I avoided everybody after that, especially after I started a full-time job painting. I did not communicate with anyone except my manager and representative. I lived in my studio, hearing the paints tell me their stories as the brush danced swiftly on the canvas. I don't even go to my own exhibitions. I use a pen name called "Ruby Field" for my art and send my representative everywhere I need to be.

Until that one remorseful day. That day completely changed me and how I viewed life. A few weeks before, if you had asked me, I would have said that was the best day ever; I cherished it. However, now I have nothing but hate for what it brought to me.