DYSTOPIA | Fillie.

01.FACADES.

DYSTOPIA

WARNING: AS LISTED IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER, THIS STORY HAS MANY THEMES YOU MAY NOT BE COMFORTABLE WITH,

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, TAKE THIS AS YOUR FINAL WARNING.

Mount Sinai hospital, Harlem, New York: maternity ward, room 353

23rd of December, 2002

Eric Wolfhard remembered.

How could he not?

It was the day in which the blabbering bundle of joy, he had grown to call his son, was born. Oh did the baby have looks to die for. His Thick luscious lashes, swept against his yet to develop cheekbones, and his eyes had been light, and shone, even in the grey weather December often offered.

But whilst one parent worshipped such an ethereal child, the other despised its nature and tried to immediately get rid of it.

By smothering it, laying upon it, angling it in impossible breathing positions.

It was only natural for a new mother to experience a strong dissociation toward her child, especially in situations it had not been wanted.

Only Mary's dissociation seemed to be a constant occurrence.

Eric had saved his son every time.

Eric believed that it had been their responsibility to look after the child they had unwillingly conceived.

He had always felt that it was cruel to put the child up for adoption, especially if their name would often be lost in another filing cabinet, of forgotten children in New York City.

No child deserved such a life.

He made a compromise with his wife: she would not hurt the child again, and he would keep her out of prison, where she was rightly due to serve time. Not just for the attempted murder of their baby, but many publicly unidentified earlier acts.

Mary Wolfhard knew she was no saint, and so, agreed with the compromise Eric had offered her.

The new and improved family continued onward with their struggle as before. Eric worked tirelessly in his usual business of delivering illegal substances, and Mary had no choice but to stay home and watch the child for the first few years.

Eric seemed to very quickly get aggravated and never failed to threaten with the awful stench of alcohol he carried upon his lips and the rough hands he so often clenched.

Yet again, nobody had been there to help Mary or her child.

Only themselves.

After a few years, the simultaneous struggle of both an unwanted child and an abusive partner had not seemed so bad.

She quickly learned to avoid The heavily clumsy footsteps Eric brought home after an unlucky day at work and got used to his violence.