"Ugh! (Y/N)! How do you expect to get a husband when you look that ugly?"
My mother would yell at me like this once in while. It was always about getting a husband.
I was only 5.
"Mom but I'm just going to go outside and buy milk. There's barely any in the fridge"
I asked her about it minutes before, and she stated she was too lazy to go outside and buy. If I wanted my bowl with cereal and milk, I needed to go out and buy the milk myself since my father was at work.
Now that I think about it, what did he do? What job did he have?
"And? You're not going outside like that. Get back here, I'm fixing your damn hair! I always have to do everything!"
She wanted me to pretty up in order to buy milk. The grocery store was literally next to our building, why in the world did it matter? At the time, I never saw the problem. I followed her demands as a good child should do.
It was fun at first. Looking like those princesses in the movies. Wearing beautiful dresses, gorgeous necklaces, and looking lovely. However, sooner or later, it got really infuriating and ridiculous.
If I didn't listen to her, she'd throw stuff at me. Commonly those several empty wine bottles she'd have on the table.
Hah.
You'd think that if my mother was a diabolical beauty obsessed bitch, then my father would be the exact opposite, right?
Wrong.
Beauty? Dresses? Jewelry? He could care less.
School grades, though? They better be above 95, or else...
Self-defense? "FOCUS! This is for your own good!" He'd say.
Honestly, what made it worst was that they both were polar opposites. One wanted me look the
🌸 🌼 prettiest and impress the boys 🌼 🌸
The other wanted me to
✏ ⚔ be good at school, but also learn how to fight ⚔ ✏
The only reason my father wanted me to learn self-defense was because he wanted a boy in the first place. I heard them arguing once about how he wanted a boy and not a weak girl. Then my mother– with her 'grand' idea, she told him to teach me how to fight. Apparently that's why my father wanted a boy, so he can have a fighter he could be proud of.
After hearing all that, I understood why he was so hard on me during training. Why he couldn't understand that I got tired a lot quicker when my reflexes were slow and I couldn't avoid his punch to my stomach.
Perhaps, to his eyes, he started forgetting about his daughter and only saw a boy– a son. Self-defense was just an excuse he gave me so I could really focus on the training after school.
I'd throw up after the sessions when I'd tell him after more than 5 times that I couldn't take it anymore. If you could only see the look of disgust and disappointment he wore when I'd be on the floor, barely breathing. I don't know how I even managed to survive.
At school, I didn't have any friends. I mean, who would be friends with someone who's always so quiet yet seems to get such good grades? Who would be friends with someone who looks lame on the outside and sometimes has bruises on her knuckles?
I feel bad for the kind teachers who attempted to talk to me. Some even attempted to try and talk to my parents, but they never came to the conferences. Since some teachers thought it wasn't their problem, many of them gave up.
Except one.
A teacher who never gave up until I spoke to her for the first time. She brought candy for the class once in a while, and she'd always give me 2 extra ones without anyone knowing. She was one of the reasons why I avoided skipping school. The other was because my father would surely kill me.
Though because she was almost in her 60s, the next school year, she had to retire. So she was gone. School became colorless– as if it had any in the first place.
When I'd walk home from school, I would always see kids my age or older playing on the public playground. They'd be climbing on the monkey bars, running around chasing each other as they played tag, or even running through the water sprinklers. Then other kids would bring their parents to help push them on the swings.
For some reason, the first time I saw that, there was this warmth that infused my body. I felt my heart racing as I thought about how much fun that would be. I got home that day to ask my mom to go to the park, and she gladly accepted. After an hour of getting ready, with my skirt, I went straight to the swings when we reached the park.
But all that fun was shattered when she refused to push me on the swing. She said she didn't want me falling on the ground and getting my face hurt. I begged her, insisting over and over again, almost looking like a spoiled brat to the strangers around.
Not once did she ever push me, and I didn't know how to swing it myself. So that time at the park, became another boring activity. When I got home, she revealed how upset she was with my attitude and yelled at me while clutching my face to look into her eyes. I was frightened and in tears as I listened to every word she said– or shouted.
Every time after school, when I'd see those children in the playground, I would see their parents smiling and laughing while participating in their game, either tag or hopscotch. All that became an unachievable dream to me. I'll never have anyone to push me on the swings. Not with the parents I have.
Years went by, and still– nothing changed. It was the same routine over and over. Whenever you go outside make sure to look pretty and gentle to impress the boys, after going to school, spend 5 hours punching or being punched nonstop, take 10-15 minutes with a cold compress for your injured hand or wrist.
Afterwards, put on earbuds and listen to music while doing homework so you won't hear your mother arguing with your father in the background about how he ruined your skin.
I'm so glad I came to the conclusion of running away from the dungeon I used to call home. Yeah...
I'm killing them tonight.
• ° • • ° •
"Woahh! You have to kill your parents?!" Lina shouted through the mask I wore. It was able to fully cover my face once I pressed the button that was located on the neck of my suit. To add, it also had the ability to make calls with the people who have the same suit, which were only Lina and Val. This was something he was able to make all on his own.
》Just to help your imagination, this is how your mask starts forming around your face when you press the button. It will be up to you to decide how you want your mask to look like. The color of it will be black though since it's supposed to match your dark wear《
Currently, I was on my way to the location Black Mask informed me about, which was actually where I used to live with them.
"Yeah. I might be glad I can kill them now, but I'm also upset that I have to confront them"
"But they won't know it's you unless you tell them... Will you, though?"
Once I landed on the roof of a building, I began to walk to the edge. At the same time pondering her question, "...I don't know"
"Maybe you should. Especially to your father. I so want to go" I could tell her face formed into a pout. "But V over here isn't going to take charge if I leave. He's busy tinkering as always"
Val is always one to invent stuff, or improve his inventions. He isn't much of a leader, but when he has to, he certainly takes charge. It's almost like he changes personality. Although if you were to tell that to Val, he'd tell you otherwise because he doesn't see it that way.
Which is why most of the time, Lina and I are the ones who act like leaders. Also because we both are good at fighting since we learned from Catwoman. And well, I learned a little bit from back then at the manor... and from my father...
Though for some reason, Joker didn't let Val train with us, instead he taught him his own way of fighting, which wasn't really as good as the way Lina and I were being taught. Val didn't talk about the sessions much either. He said they were partially boring.
"Alright, then on my own I go. Bye Cash" I referred to her by her agent name.
"Bye (Y/A/N). Break a leg! Just, not one of yours" she giggled from the other side of the call.
"I'll keep that in mind" was all I said before ending the call by pressing the button on my left wrist, and focusing on the backdoor I was trying to unlock using a lockpick.
CLICK
Carefully, I opened the creaking metal door. There shouldn't be anyone inside, it's around 7:30 PM, so I have a few minutes. I grabbed the small flashlight from the pocket of my shin and walked towards the living room, radiating the light through the darkness. I moved my hand around, shining the light to the table, plants, television, curtains.
Not much has changed. I recognized those curtains, that mirror on the wall, the windows that I loved to look out from, but was always interrupted by my mother shutting close the curtains.
In some spots, the floor creaked. Clearly they don't pay attention to this house anymore.
Hold on-
For some odd reason, I feel like I keep hearing mumbling coming from somewhere. Though honestly, I'm probably just hearing things since it's silent.
I continued my walk. This time, upstairs. I walked to the room at the end of the floor, the room that used to be mine. If I remember correctly, I'm pretty sure I left it messy. I sort of broke my window blinds as well– out of anger. However, after opening that door, I was not familiar with the new place. Instead of the (light/dark) (F/C) walls I loved, it was all repainted with (light/dark) (A/C).
》(F/C) = Favorite color; (A/C) = Another color《
I closed the door after perceiving that none of my stuff were inside anymore. Seriously, (Y/N)? What did you expect?
Did you want them to change over time and become better parents? Did you want them to keep your stuff nice and tidy because they realized how much you mean to them? As if! I can't believe you were still hoping for that to happen.
BANG BANG BANG
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone hitting an iron door. I knew where the sound came from and rushed downstairs. There shouldn't be anyone in here. I passed by the living room and to the other stairs that led to the basement.
BANG BANG
"HELP!"
I knew it. The sounds were coming from the basement.
"It won't work? Well we have to try something"
They were speaking to someone... Were there two people in there? Damn, if only this door had a window.
"HELP! SOMEONE!" They shouted again, the iron door muffling their voice.
I pressed on the button located behind my right shoulder, turning on the x-ray vision the mask had. As I stared at the basement door in front of me, I saw a small body near the door, and behind them were 3 groups with 4– what seemed like kids on the ground laying against the wall. Yeah, these were definitely kids.
I pressed the button a second time, turning the feature off. Stretched my hand out to reach for the doorknob, and flashbacks of this place started to appear in my head. This... this was the place. The place my father would train me in. Where we'd spent 5 hours in this basement, with this iron door shut closed. I felt goosebumps form on the skin of my arm, my stomach churning as if I was back in the past again; and as if I could hear his yelling again.
"You aren't improving at all!"
"How do you expect to win in a fight?"
"I told you to BLOCK and THEN PUNCH! LISTEN!"
"Throwing up already? Pathetic"
I took a hold of the doorknob.
It's in the past now.
I thought I moved on, but it seems I do have to murder them with my own hands in order to forget about this...
I opened the door wide after unlocking it with the lockpick from outside.
-especially after finding out that these monsters have been trafficking children and keeping them here.
[End of Chapter 8]
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Word Count: 2,293
If you didn't notice already, then here, I'll say it:
Credits to Endeavor from MHA for inspiring me to write such horrible parents for (Y/N). 😭LMAOO
I did notice that many of the fanfics out there (including mine) have like these good parents for the reader. However, I'm starting to consider the fact that there are some readers out there who don't have those types of parents and can't really see them doing those nice stuff.
—Yam
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