Yandere

Prologue: To Feel

WARNING: long AF. #BackStory
Will make the 1st chapter more understandable
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++Marco's POV++

My earliest memories are of hospitals... white walls, pink bubble gum curtains and the bitter smell of medicine. A doctor would be talking to my parents as I stay seated on the examination table. I was probably 3 years old back then, and...something was wrong with me...

It's mostly blank after that.

I've always been different. Perhaps that's why he abandoned me...

All my life, my mother was the only one that thought I didn't need changing. That I was normal.
She always told me about how I was just like her when she was younger. She taught me many things, from human biology, to different types of chemicals.

On the other hand, my father would do anything and everything to try and make me happy. To make me smile. To make me normal.

What was wrong with me? They never told me.

She and my father would often fight because of it. Until one day, my mother saved him from getting hit by a truck.

She died on impact.

Dad cried everyday after that. He started drinking and taking drugs too. He'd stare at me for hours. And yell at me to cry.

My mother was dead, I should feel sad. I should cry. I should...but I felt...empty. I was...heartless. Broken.

Maybe that was what's wrong...I was...am...broken.

It made my father feel worst. He started hitting me.

He'd beat me and bruise me. Others at school would stare and point at me. Not long after, girls and boys alike would pick on me.

They'd take my books, shoes, pencils. Even what little money I had. The teachers wouldn't give shit.

It was... Inconvenient.

One day, when I got home, there was another woman, dressed in brand clothing with two girls dressed the same way sitting on the couch. Dad rushed over and told me that they were now my new family.

Dad was gonna mary again. At the age of 8, I was about to have a mother again, with two new sisters.

At least, that's what I thought.

Step mother looked at me with confusion the first couple days. The following were met with disgust. The two girls were open at first, but then realized I was different and became distant.

'Why can't you be normal?!' My father would yell, drunk. 'It's your fault! It's all your fault!' He'd throw empty alcohol bottles my way, I'd dodge them and let them shatter.

Ever since step mom brought the divorce papers, not even a year after they had gotten married, father had been twice as destructive compared to before she came.

The house would be a mess of broken glass and the air always held the stench of strong alcohol.

I didn't, couldn't get a moments peace. Not in school, and certainly not at home. Even my own room was a danger zone.

It was truely inconvenient.

I'm not normal. Even I knew that. I've watched others. They would feel sad, terrified and even angry in this kind of situation. But I just felt...empty.

I started observing them more. Young and old alike. Watched them smile, watched them yell, watched them get hurt and cry.

The very next day, I decided to compare two men. My father, and another father from a different family, one that was normal. A family with one daughter, one mother, and one father.