Submitting/C1 PROLOGUE
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Submitting/C1 PROLOGUE
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"You are weak, weak and pathetic." She didn't lift her face, hiding behind the curtain of hair. It was her only shield, one so feeble and fragile but perhaps hiding her emotions was of more priority.

"You are such a shame and disgrace to our family. Have you ever thought about us? How could you when you are too busy being selfish." Yes indeed, it hurt and the heaviness was too much on these weak shoulders that they couldn't help but crumble down. The urge to call someone for help clenched her heart, but she knew no one in this house would do so. For a seven-year-old, she felt like she was very dumb since she didn't know what she did wrong to earn this punishment.

It has been four years now, and she still doesn't know.

She was used to the pain that she felt in her bones and muscles. It was a daily routine now. As soon as the hands of the clock paused at eight in the evening every day, she tried to brace herself for what was about to come but it never helped.

"It would have been better if we just let you out in the streets and leave you alone. That's what you want don't you?" The angry scowl on her father's face scared the young soul even more but most of all, she was sad. Sadness had engulfed the small spark of light inside her.

Such dark sorrow should not exist for such a young age.

Hot streams of tears cascaded down her face, but they were invisible to her father as he did not have any mercy and kept on hurting his daughter relentlessly, with words such sharp as daggers she was bound to bleed. The disgust was clear in his eyes as he fisted his hand with the urge to hurt her even more as fury and lost consciousness made him do things which he did whenever he was the slightest bit upset. His daughter was the suitable punching bag as her silence and vulnerability almost seemed to beg him to hurt her. Defencelessly she just looked at her father's face with her glossy eyes, waiting for him to notice her, to actually see her and what she was feeling. But he didn't because he was blind whenever he saw her.

Fury was still hot inside him like molten lava as he spat on the floor with a scowl on his face that expressed his disgust more openly than she could ever imagine like she was the first and last person he hated the most. A stranger, a foe, a hostage. Hatred had never been so cruel as fate itself. It churned inside this being like the devil's mind and possessed him like a demon. Why did she choose to come here? Why didn't she die like she was supposed to? It would have been a relief on both ends.

Her white dress with several stains and stitches on them seemed to be made for a child of a much younger age but her petite and skinny figure seemed to fit anyway. Moreover, it was loose on her as it swished below her knees when she lost her balance and fell on the floor. The sound of cloth tearing sped her heart faster as she looked at her father again, hoping he didn't hear the tear in her dress. But it was too late.

"Did. You. Just. Tear. Your. Dress? Do you even know how much that dress costs? Of course, you wouldn't because you have never earned a single penny. You don't know how hard I have to work to earn a dollar every day and here you are wasting and destroying everything like the princess you are." Tired and helpless, she gave up. The energy to even wail was lost yet her tears were unforgiving since they never stopped their distressed downpour. Things pile up and then one day the tower collapses and bring everything down with it.

You can only hold on for so long.

There was still something missing to him. The satisfaction was not yet enough. With one push of his hand, he slammed her on the floor and got up from the dying wooden chair as it creaked painfully. The floor beneath him winced every time he walked towards the door with his dark charcoal boots whose squeaks always triggered the unmeasurable fear inside her. It was like a warning, an alarm of his arrival that made her life more dreadful than it already was.

The door was left wide open as he walked out leaving a trail of echoes behind. There was a huge temptation to walk out of that door and never look back, but she knew better than that. The things that were going to happen next was not a mystery to her. He was angrier than usual, she made him angry, and so he was going to quench the fire inside him by drinking her innocent feather tears.

Two pairs of footsteps walked towards the doorway and stopped outside, staring at the cocooned body of their own blood and flesh. The last part seemed to be lost to them since they didn't even acknowledge the tremors that ran through her body and walked towards her with a renewed anger churning inside them. A cold splash of water blinded her as she closed her eyes and let the tears get wash away. She was thankful that they won't be able to see her tears now. She didn't want to be weak, it was not chosen by her.

She was forced.

She was submitting.

Libre Baskerville
Gentium Book Basic
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