Edited

Chapter 6

(This entire chapter will Taco's POV, and it is just her explaining her life to Mic, and she's just silently listening)

I'm not joking when I say I was an accident. My mom never wanted me, but my father and sister did. My dad was ecstatic when he found out he was going to have another child, regardless of it being a daughter, son or neither. My sister was glad to have a sibling to talk to and play with. When my mom found out she was going to have me, she was originally going to give me away, but seeing how happy her family was, she kept me. I don't know if she regrets it or not.

Shortly after I was born, about a few months later, I showed some intelligence, despite me being so young. My dad was just walking around the house, wondering what the tea needs. My dad asked me as a joke. I was nearby some letter blocks, or whatever they're called. When he asked me, I looked at the blocks, and slowly switched the blocks around to eventually spell "Ice". My father realized what I did. He looked at me, then at my sister who was in the room at the time to see if she caught that. She did.

My mother wondered why they were taking so long. She came to the living room to see why.

She asked my dad why it was taking so long. He replied that he wasn't expecting an answer from me. My mother was confused by this, and then looked over to my sister to see if she could explain it any better. She tried, but ended up making my mother even more confused. She ended up looking at me, seeing the blocks that spelt "Ice", and eventually coming to the conclusion that I had spelt that. She was shocked, but not as shocked as my dad or my sister.

Because of this, my father ended up teaching me at an early age, trying to make me feel understand the world better because he worked from home. Soon enough, I could spell short words with letter blocks and vaguely understand grammar. It wasn't much, but it was progress. My father had taken me to the library multiple times so he could help me on reading and start to teach me other things. Soon enough I could physically answer him with short phrases. An example of this would be if he asked me a math problem with the answer being more than one digit, I would just say each number while he would right down each number to see if I was right.

One time however, I asked my father if we could go to the library to practice. He agreed, but something happened on that day. I don't know why this happened, but a small bookshelf got knocked over and my dad wasn't fast enough because one of his legs got broken and he ended up needing to go to the hospital. Because I'm the one who wanted my dad and I to go to the Library, I'm the one who's guilty and my mother blamed me for it.

The entire time my dad was at the hospital, my mother only reminded me that I was the reason my dad was in the hospital. At this point, I don't think that she knew how degrading that was on a kid's confidence. She kept reminding me that if I were to have another family member in the hospital, she would most likely blame me, because half the time, they we're coming to see me. This made me really paranoid of what I do.

Once my father got out of the hospital, I kept on apologizing to him, saying I shouldn't have requested to go the library. He forgave me, but was confused about why I kept on apologizing.

Eventually I was old enough to join a class to learn a few things. The teacher was reluctant to have me in her class, but she let me in because no one else was. She was worried I was going to distract her class or chase her with a crayon.(a/n this actually happened to my sixth grade class, the chasing the teacher with a crayon part, that is)This was were I met Pickle for the first time. I was seated in the back of the class, near Pickle.

The teacher said that I could answer any of the questions she asked. She eventually asked a question that I knew the answer to, but I had a hard time pronouncing it. Enter Pickle's help. He figured out what I was trying to say, and said it for me, for me to nod, silently saying that I wanted to say that. It went on like this. I would try and pronounce something I had trouble with and he helped me.

I had gone to that classroom a couple of times, and all of the times I did, Pickle helped me on pronouncing things and I would help him with other subjects that he needed help in. It went on like this the entire sixth grade.

In seventh grade Pickle started to befriend Knife and to try and make him just a bit nicer, and I supported him all the way. He was able to befriend him to the point where they knew each other pretty well. I was happy for him.

Things at home got worse though. My mother kept bringing my confidence down, word by word, saying that I'm the reason my father got hurt, and it's true too. The guilt of knowing that brings down my confidence so far down, I usually ask someone and triple check it to make sure it's okay. One day, she asked my sister to do a favor for her. An unspeakable favor. She wanted her to go further than just bringing down the very thing that helps me get over something hard to do. She had great regret in her eyes while doing so. It wasn't much, but it was seriously degrading to her.

I showed up to school the next day with a few bruises.

Pickle was worried for me greatly, but we were in a public place, about to discuss something private. So he took me to an empty classroom to discuss what happened. I told him what happened. I told him that my mother gave my sister full permission to hit me. I told him that just in case if it happens again, we should come up with a code system if we need to talk or need help patching up if we are in a public place. It was still used in eighth and freshman year.

In eighth grade nothing happens that still effects me to this day. It was just a surprisingly normal year, despite the fact that my mother increased the mental abuse.

Freshman year, basically everyone knows the story. Well, most of it. We all know how The Incident happened. We all know what happened during The Incident, but most people don't know what happened after that, only a very select few know.

Basically what had happened was that my mom wasn't happy with my dad at all.

She wanted me to stop going to school as much, as it was "difficult" for her to send two children to school and was "too much money", but my dad kept encouraging me to go, and I still went despite my mom not wanting me to. So, what was her only idea getting rid of him? Trying to send him to jail, and it worked. She framed my dad for using illegal substances, and I don't know where she even got them.

With my dad gone, my mother was able to block off my education for a very short time. It was very short as the police noticed that I was able to go to a school, so her plan backfired.

Her plan in mind after that? Bringing down my courage even more. By this point, I was used to it, and my father hyped me up, bringing my confidence up a significant amount before he got arrested, so my mother would have to try a lot harder to bring it back down.

In fact, it took her a whole summer to do so.

So, here I am in sophomore year, explaining everything that happened in the last few years.

Mic's POV(yeah I lied, I'm sorry I couldn't help myself-)

I sat there on my bed, blinking at her.

Dang did she have some trauma in her past.

"Well, to me, it seems that you have an abusive household, is that correct Taco?" I ask her. She silently and slowly nods. I pull her into a hug. She quickly melts into the hug, almost as if she wanted one desperately. She is the first one to break from the hug though.

"Well, I'm more the likely sure that dinner is now ready. Come on, my mother makes some really good food." I say to Taco, standing up and grabbing her hand as we slowly walk down the stairs to the kitchen.

(Author Here
I am SO sorry this took so long, but I got it out now. But ye, that's Taco's backstory for ya
Sorry for any grammar/writing mistakes and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!)
Edit: Thanks for 400 hundred reads!