(Note: This is narrated in Humility's perspective when he was still a young up to the current timeline. Thank you! UwU)
I have always been groomed to be perfect. To always have a smile on my face...
To always be tough.
To...always be a role model to everyone around.
And I guess that's what made me...change into this...this monster I can't help but turn into, that sometimes I wonder, what if this is the real me?
I remember waking up early in the morning, combing my hair in front of the mirror, as my mother pick me a worthy outfit for I to wear.
My mother and father were rich. And have long waited for my arrival as soon as they found out that I too, was a boy.
They thought that I'd be like Winston. My older brother. But I guess they looked rather disappointed when they found out how light I was when mother carried me for the first time. I do not look healthy despite them trying their best when I was still in her womb.
I was not the perfect child they hoped to have.
"Son, are you finished?" My mother called for me as I put down my comb. I was just seven years old then, but I could feel that they don't like me as much as they like Winston.
They gave him more attention, more praises. They even have him sit on the front seats of the car, on mom's lap. While I was with my nanny, at the back as the car drove towards a huge house where they feast upon a huge meal, and flaunt upon their riches and their children.
I always hated this. I know I'll end up being ignored. And Winston will always be the gossip of the party.
I sighed in frustration. Mom won't even let me bring a toy, nor a book. But they let Winston bring his practice wooden sword.
Why don't they love me the same as him?
My eyes looked down on the floor, and my nanny, Rona, noticed my gloomy behaviour. She raised my chin up gently and smiled at me.
It seems like she sneaked one of my toys. And instantly handed it to me.
I love my nanny so much. She's the only one who accepts me.
When I was five, I was forced to watch my brother fight using that same old wooden sword. But when I showed disinterest, they yelled at me and even spanked me. I don't know what I did wrong.
So when Nanny handed me that toy, I squeezed it hard and hugged it. I have never felt so happy as finally, I get to have something I love.
The purple elephant that my grandma gifted me.
Suddenly, the car stops. And I know that I must face this nightmare again.
My nanny carried me. As my mother and father held my brother Winston with joy. His name really fitted perfectly with his being. Winston means joyful stone. And everyone he meets instantly likes him, and his talents bring joy to my parents. And like stone, he was very strong, no kid could best him.
While I...I think they regretted naming me Brylle. Brylle was supposed to mean "gift from God", but the way they treat me felt like I wasn't the gift they expected to have.
It was almost as if they were ashamed to have me. And yes, even if I was young back then, I know what they're thinking. Whenever someone would ask about what thing I could do, they'd lie and tell them that I can fight using bows. While in reality, I haven't even tried one yet. I love books. Not bows.
They don't know me. Or maybe they do, and they refuse to acknowledge it.
And you know what else hurts? Whenever they wanted to talk more about me, they'd change the topic to Winston instead.
That really hurt my pride.
And whenever it was my birthday, the theme they'd pick isn't even the theme I wanted.
I thought I should feel bad about that but it was worst when I reached age 12.
I recieved my card then, and was ranked 1st in class. I could not believe it. The happiness I felt back then was immeasurable.
I thanked my teacher, saying that my parents will be happy if they see this. I thought so...I really thought so. But when I got home, I saw them happily celebrating my brother's medal. He won third place at a gun aiming tournament. They all looked so happy.
Oh yeah, why won't they? My father is a soldier, his whole male family members were known as great soldiers. And seeing how physically athletic and good my brother is at firearms, no wonder why he's so proud. My brother was the youngest participant and he ranked 3rd out of 25 participants.
I felt ashamed holding my card, but I envied my brother back then, and I was hoping to steal his spotlight even for 5 seconds. To finally be acknowledged. So I gulped and gathered all my courage. Walked up to my parents and excitedly reported my achievement.
I expected a hug, or even a congratulatory message from one of them. Maybe even a smile.
But I recieved none.
"War might be coming, and paper won't say anything when bullets come raining down on you, you should have invested your time on something else," my father said. Not even concerned about the impact of his words.
I looked at my mother to search for any reaction towards my father's words, but I saw none.
I felt myself crying, and I hoped I just kept them in. Because by the time they saw it, my brother laughed, while my parents looked rather displeased.
"Coopers are known to be strong, and why are you crying like a baby? You're 12 years old," my mother told me.
"Do you even love me?"
"For goodness sake, you are a young man already, Brylle!" My father yelled, pointing a finger at me.
But my tears did not stopped, they still fell from my cheeks, soaking the collar of my shirt.
"When will you ever consider my feelings?"
"When will you ever grow balls and be a man?"
That was like a bullet that went straight to my heart. My parents, whom should love their children unconditionally, favored my brother over me for 12 years, and here I am, soaked in my own tears, and they didn't even comfort me. They might lavish me with good food, have me wear very good clothings, have me sleep in the most comfortable bed, have me live in this huge house, have me learn my academics in a prestigious school, but none of them felt like love. They never once comforted me, or even tend to me when I was sick. They only like me when I pretend to like guns and bows and canyons. But they don't like the real me.
"Mom, dad, do you favor Winston more than I?"
They did not replied. But that was when I realized that they didn't have to. It was evident.
That made me so angry I went to my room to cry. But they didn't even felt guilty. No one visited my room, not even a single knock on my door.
They don't care.
I was supposed to be one of their accessories. Someone to flaunt to their friends. And I was glad I wasn't going to let that happen.
Or would I?
I looked at my books, all the books I have, have knowledge other kids my age don't know.
I can recite many poems, and even sing pretty well. I can play the piano, and I can play the flute, but those all were useless to them.
To them, the prodigy will always be him.
He's the jewel of this home. Because he's strong? Because he looks manly?
And that was when I wondered if they'd like me if I was just like him.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, handsome face that every other girl his age would die touching for.
And here I am, gray boring hair with this big feminine purple eyes.
I looked at the book I was holding and threw it hard on the floor. But it didn't break. I was so angry, that I decided to release it by tearing the pages apart. I have been behaved for too long. I want to let it all out.
But I failed.
I can't even tear the pages apart, I love my books. And I can't simply let it go.
Instead I looked at the jewelries in my closet, and in anger, I threw them out the window, making a ruckus on the front of our house. As people gathered there, fighting over the diamonds.
That angered my parents that they told me they won't talk to me for 5 weeks. I didn't mind, it's not like they ever talk to me anyways.
...
Morning came and I was soon off to school, so I came down from the stairs to eat breakfast, when I saw my parents laughing at whatever Winston was saying.
I felt embarrassed to come down and ruin their moment, so I just went down and told the nanny I ate, even if I did not.
When night time came, I could not control myself anymore, for I was so jealous and thirsty for acknowledgement and love from my parents.
Then I told myself that tomorrow, I'd follow Winston to school.