The Masks We Wear

Chapter 10| It Was All In The Past

"Life's roughest storms prove the strength in our anchors."
—Anonymous

{ E L E N A ' S P O V }
After my dream, I had the overwhelming urge to tell someone, anyone about my story. So I figured, why not Scarlett? She did deserve an explanation.

So that's how I ended up here. Hiding in the shadows, hoping to see Elena.

Totally not stalking her.

Finally noticing her coming my way, I whisper-shouted;

"Pst!"

Startled, she almost dropped her binders.

"Erm, Elena? What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Just come inside. Please."

She reluctantly entered, as I put the 'Do Not Enter' sign with my name signed below. You know, just precaution.

"So... You know the thing, around one and a half year ago." I said uncomfortably. She shifted on one foot, obviously uncomfortable as well.

"Well... You deserve to know the reason why, why I did that."

As her eyes told me to continue on, I felt myself emerging into the past again, speaking in the most solemn voice.
***
The most simple way to sum it up? I wasn't supposed to happen.

You see, before I was born, my mother was a victim of human trafficking. My father, my real father, well, he was a...Supporter of it.

You get the details.

When I was born, I was still born in that area. My mother, she tried her best to protect me from the varying dangers there. 

That wasn't enough. 

She took the blame for everything, from stealing food from the cafeteria just so I could get the amount I needed, to help me have not so much of an rotten childhood. 

I don't recall all the details, but I sure do remember some. Some memories that still haunt me to this day. 

Of course, I survived through this. I wouldn't be here today if I didn't. 

I lived in that hellhole for about... Five years? Maybe six, until some outsider noticed this and called the police. 

There was a flurry of rush, and swearing as the supporters of this place tried to escape. Some went insane, and shot many people on the spot knowing what beheld their future wasn't good. 

Me and my mother got lucky. We survived through the entire fiasco, and my mother managed to only get a twisted ankle from running. 

Of course, being the naive little girl I was, for a short period of time, I thought things were going to be alright. 

They did not get alright. 

After one year of peace and solitude after getting out of that place, my mother tried to kill me. I didn't comprehend what was happening at the time of course, everything seemed to be perfectly normal at the time. 

You see, I never had the luxury of having an adult truly spoil me as a child. I guess you could say that I was pretty...Slow. 

My mother still fed me food. Like any six year old, I could feed myself properly, but I just preferred it better when she fed me. 

We were living in a cozy apartment at the moment. I had a private tutor at the moment, keeping me up in education. 

Perhaps it didn't seem much, but it was better than I ever had at the moment. 

Like I said, she was spoon-feeding me chocolate pudding when it just happened. 

A random light appeared in her eyes. Her hand that was gently holding the spoon went slack. A few seconds later, all I knew was that I was choking. 

She soon was trying to force the spoon down my throat. I didn't know what was happening, and I was certainly too weak to defend myself. 

It was only my moans of protests, that captured the attention of a neighbor who was roaming across our apartment hallways. 

Thankfully our door wasn't locked. The man came inside, to witness enough to understand that my life was at stake, and managed to knock her out unconscious. 

It was a blur after that. 

The rushing to get me, and my mother to the hospital.

The ride to the hospital. 

And then there's the big bang. 

I don't remember the exact words, but I knew one thing.

My mother was certified insane. 

They explained to me how it they didn't find that she would be insane. When they first found her she was in too much of a state of shock. 

They told me it was expected for something like this to happen sooner or later. 

It was a flurry of movements afterwards. I was hysterical. They had immense trouble calming me down as well. 

All I knew was that I would not be seeing my mother after that. 

I soon found myself in a foster care. 

It was horrible. Not as horrible as the first five years in my life, but still horrible. 

I received no love. They provided me three meals a day, and a shelter. That was it. The education was horrible, most of the 'teachers' weren't even fit to have that role. It was a world of black and white. 

Now, during the trip to the foster care, I remembered that it took a while. Little did I know that I was in Italy, in the home of my first language. 

Anyways, after around a year of living in the foster, I decided to run away. My young mind had absolutely no idea where I was going. All I knew was that I wanted to get away from there. 

So I ran. 

I ran until my six year old body couldn't run anymore. Until I collapsed from exhaustion. 

The next day, I was in a beautiful room. It was pink and white, with lace curtains and a humongous bed with purple bed sheets. 

Basically, what happened was that the Reid's found me. Apparently, when I collapsed, they were in the middle of their late night stroll when they found me. 

The only emotion I had back then was gratitude. Papers were signed, and bam I was in a new home. 

They had a eleven year old daughter as well named Autumn. She treated me like a baby, in a good way. In my own way, that was affection. 

My life seemed to have calmed down after that. I had a rich family that showered me in goods, and loved me like an actual daughter. 

As I grew up, no one suspected anything. Perhaps because we were all Italian, thus our similarity in looks. 

I got complimented a lot in the future. I don't want to brag or anything, but I was definitely not ugly. 

However, throughout the early stages of living with the Reid's, I discovered that I had depression and anxiety. 

I would never get sleep at night. Nightmares from my past would find me in slumber. That was, until I started to have sleeping pills at the age eight. 

My depression and anxiety calmed down after around another two years. 

My education was very well as well. They hired a private tutor, this one much more experienced. I liked learning as well, which was a plus. 

Soon, by the time high school arrived, I was all caught up. 

Maybe people want to be me. 

But do they really? After all, my exterior is just a mask, a mask to cover up the ruined girl on the inside.