101 Portals

~Red's Past~

Chapter 2

My father is a famous fashion designer. To get more ideas he went to France; there he met a beautiful woman with luscious blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes. Her name was Chara Anderson. My father and Chara fell in love, Father decided to have an affair with her, therefore having me. Turns out Chara was slowly dying of cancer. The doctors claimed it would last years. She couldn't take care of me on her own, so she told my dad to take me. My mother was not only shocked, but angry when my dad returned with a small, pale baby with vibrant blonde hair. She agreed to keep the child, but only if my hair was dyed black, and only if I didn't know about my real mom. The media talked for days about Mary Bai-Wen's new son, and she pretended to have created a special diet to prevent the 'baby bump'. She made millions selling her diet kits. I was just another cash cow to milk.

December 25, 2012

Christopher age 10

My Mother was drinking again.

" How dare that woman talk to my son! How dare she!" she screamed. My father was not in a good mood from work, what with all the snotty customers he had to visit and talk to. I sat outside of my parents' room, their yelling messing with my sleep, but how could you sleep when your family's talking about you as if you didn't even exist? I was bawling silently at this point.

"She's dying, Mary! She just wanted to reach out to her SON." Dad yelled, emphasizing the word son in any way he could. I was too caught up in thinking about what was being said to notice that my dad had opened the door.

"You!" he screamed, seizing my arm and picking me up. " Do you have any idea the trouble you've caused me!? Do you?" I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I shook my head and refused to look into my father's cold blue eyes. "Tch." The same disapproving sound from his mouth, the same sound that has the same outcome, the same sound that tells me my parents are gonna beat me. He threw me away from him, forcing my back against the wall. I forced the building scream down my throat. I just bit my tongue, knowing that if I did scream, he would be even less merciful. Father walked over to where I laid, grabbing my hair and pulling me up to face him. "This is your fault." he spat in my ear, smashing my head against the floor. With that, he walked down the stairs. His footsteps boomed throughout the house, I dragged myself off the floor. I trudged into my room, closing the door. After a moment of thought, I picked up a medium sized crimson box and placed it on my bed. I cracked open the top, and looked over the several pieces of paper that rested inside. All pieces that began with 'My Dearest Christopher'.

All pieces that were from my real mother.