Exactly 108 years ago is when the first event that triggered those dark feelings in me occurred, and yet I remember it like it was yesterday. I was just a ten year old boy, happily spending time with his family and going out on the town on his birthday. We went to the movies, an arcade, an amusement park, and I even got to see some popular adventurers that day. What I had told Sara about wanting to become an adventurer was not technically a lie, it was always my dream as a child. As a child, I couldn't have possibly guessed what would pass when we all returned home that night.
When we all returned home, we sat around the dinner table for cake and presents, and then when all was said and done, my parents sent me off to sleep like always; with a hug and an "I love you". Late that night, I woke to the sound of banging and screaming. I was terrified, but I got out of my bed nonetheless, childish curiosity getting the better of me. I creeped out of my bedroom slowly, my bedroom door creaking louder than ever before, but it was a mere whisper before the banging and screaming coming from the kitchen.
When I peeked around the corner to see what was going on, what I saw was my father beating my mother senseless with his bare hands, and she was doing her best to fight back, but was unable to do much against my father, who was much larger than she was. I was traumatized by the sight, frozen where I stood, until my mother fell right in front of me, making eye contact with me as she looked up from the wooden floor.
"You..." She said with a venom in her voice. It was something I had never once heard from my mother, and it terrified me to no end. I backed away from her slowly, shaking my head, but she grabbed my ankle and made me fall over with a yelp. "If only you had never existed!" She had said as my father dragged her away from me, my mother grasping onto my leg for dear life and cutting into it with her long nails in the process.
My mother howled and screamed, scratching at my father's face, but he seemed entirely unfazed by anything my mother tried just before driving a kitchen knife right into her throat. She squirmed in his grasp and tried to pull his hand off the knife, but he only drove it in deeper, pinning her against the kitchen cabinets until her arms and legs went limp. I just sat there, utterly terrified as I watched this unfold, unable to even utter a single word due to the fear that welled up inside of me.
My father, panting heavily and dripping with blood; a mix of his own blood and the blood spilled from my mother's corpse, turned to me and gave me the kind smile he always had. "I'm sorry you had to see such a thing Jeshan... I was hoping you'd be able to go without having to see any of this...without having to struggle." He began walking towards me and I instinctively began scooting away, unable to even stand up properly due to how bad my mother had scratched up my leg. "Don't run away from me Jeshan... You're only gonna make this harden on me and yourself." He demanded with a stern tone and began stomping towards me more quickly.
"N-No... Daddy no!" I quickly turned around, forcing my body to stand and I began making a break for the front door, but my father was much quicker than my ten year old form. He swung the kitchen knife at my back, cutting deep into my flesh, the pain so sharp that I tripped over my own legs and collapsed on the floor, gasping, crying, and coughing. I could feel my father's hand wrap around the back of my neck and he lifted me from the ground with ease. As a result, I began to kick and scream, yelling, "Please no! Daddy please no!" over and over, but my father wasn't listening to a word I said.
He raised the knife up into the air and smiled at me kindly once more. "Goodbye Jeshan. I won't miss you or your mother, and I wish you had never been born." His words made my eyes go wide, and I stopped struggling in his grasp. He swung the knife at me to slit my throat, but a bullet flew through the air and knocked the knife right out of his hand, then another shot right through his hand, for good measure I assume. My father hissed in pain, dropping me and the knife, and I coughed and rolled in pain on the floor.
Before my father could even look over, someone zipped into the house and punched my father into the wall, firing more shots from their dual pistols, but instead of bullets, what came out were spikes in the shape of hooves, looping around my father's arms, legs, and neck before stabbing into the wall and pinning him to it. I looked up to see it was the adventurer I had met early that day. "And this is the crap that happens when police are too slow... On the kid's fuckin birthday no less... What kind of sick bastard does this shit to his own family?" The adventurer spat at my father, looking down at me.
I couldn't even get a proper look at the adventurer before I passed out from the pain I was feeling and the amount of blood I had lost. When I awoke next, my mother was pronounced dead and my father was put in jail. After I was released from the hospital, I was taken into the care of my city's orphanage. Unfortunately, it's pretty difficult to make any friends when you're a traumatized ten year old. Not to mention all of the kids thought I'd bring bad luck or something since I had been through such a bad situation.
Despite all that, I somehow managed to get adopted by a married couple who couldn't have children. Unfortunately, it seems all they wanted was the achievement of having a child rather than being actual parents. The two just showered me with toys and technology, and, outside of making me food, completely ignored me as if I didn't exist. However, I was fine with that. After all, my father killed my mother and tried to kill me because he was tired of paying child support, and work was heavily stressing him out, not to mention the many requests that I gave my parents, that which they were too kind to refuse. So, if I just didn't interact with my new parents in any way, everything would surely be fine. Fortunately, things were fine, at home at least. The next event that took place would happen in middle school, just four short years later.