So far, the day had been uneventful. It was an average Monday morning. Claire had finished the chores early that day and was sat down with a latte and a romance novel. She had planned to relax now that she had done what she had to do. A knock on the front door interrupted her quiet time.
A small sigh escaped her lips. She went to see who it was. As soon as she opened the door, an elderly woman in a pink pantsuit barged in, carrying two large leopard print suitcases. As if Claire's life couldn't get any worse right now.
"Hello, Ebba."
Ebba Ahlin, Damien's maternal grandmother, had come for her annual visit. She hadn't called ahead this time, either. She preferred to turn up unannounced and make herself a nuisance for a week, then take off and ignore them until her next stay.
"I'm sorry, but this isn't really a good time for Damien-"
"Take my luggage to my and Aoi's room." Ebba shoved her suitcases at Claire without even glancing at her.
Claire frowned at being completely ignored. "Um, sorry, but there's someone else staying in there-"
"Just upstairs into our room. There's a good girl." Ebba strolled past her and went for the stairs. "Where is the little bastard?"
As if on cue, Damien came down the stairs. He took one look at Ebba then turned around and went back up. Claire yelled for him to come back, and he begrudgingly did.
"Why the hell are you here?" Damien asked with a scowl.
"What a nice way to greet your grandmother." Ebba scoffed. "I've come to see you. Be a little grateful. It's not like anyone else in our family ever does."
"And I wouldn't want any of you to because you're all stuck-up, racist fucks."
"Oh, stop it. I'm here now, so cheer up a little." Ebba pushed past him and went up the stairs. "I'm tired. I'm going for a nap in our room."
"It's not our room anymore, actually. I have a new roommate now."
Ebba stopped and turned her head with a look of disapproval. "One of your boyfriends? I see you're still prostituting yourself."
"I'm not a fucking prostitute! And you know I never bring anyone home."
"It's still disgraceful and sluttish." Ebba didn't notice the anger on Damien's face. "Go on, then. Tell me who's living here now."
Damien called for Kitty, who came out of his and Damien's room. Ebba's eyes widened at the sight of him. Then she rolled her eyes.
"I see. I'm glad you've got your own sex slave-"
"Sex slave?" Kitty exclaimed.
"But I don't think he should be entitled to a room." Ebba said. "He should be sleeping in the basement or something."
"Japanese houses don't have basements." Damien said. "And he's not my slave, he's my friend. I won't have you disrespecting him in a place he's meant to feel safe. He's staying in my room. That's not going to change for any reason."
Ebba frowned, then sighed. "If you want to be difficult, fine. So be it." She continued up the stairs. "Servant girl, I'll be sharing your room. And that is not an invitation for you to molest me in the night."
"I'm gay, not a rapist! And I'm not a servant!" Claire huffed and followed Ebba with the suitcases. "Why does she have to stay in my room? She doesn't even remember my name!" She muttered to herself.
Damien hid his face in his hands. "Fucking hell, this week's gonna be shit."
☽☾
Damien wasn't wrong. After only three days, he was about ready to throttle Ebba.
Every time the woman visited, she would erase every bit of individuality he had. He wasn't allowed to wear make-up, he had to wear suits and slick his hair back. She said it made him look more presentable, but he thought he looked like a nerd. And it made his hair oily and sticky. It took half an hour to wash out all the gel at the end of the day.
That evening, Ebba insisted on a home cooked meal, though it was Claire who had to prepare it. Damien dreaded it. He couldn't eat. Once the food entered his stomach, he would violently vomit it back up along with black sludge that smelt like burnt coffee and had spiders squirming inside. He told Ebba he wasn't hungry, but she insisted.
They were sat in the dining room, eating this awful food. It was only them since Ebba insisted that the "servants" - meaning anyone who wasn't part of their family - couldn't sit at the table. They had to eat in the living room. Damien protested, but she persisted. She always got her way.
Damien poked at the food on his plate. The very sight of it made him nauseous. Ebba seemed to have noticed. After she had chewed and swallowed the chicken in her mouth, he spoke.
"Eat your dinner, Aoi. Your servant girl cooked that for you."
"One, she's not my servant. And two, I never asked for it in the first place." Damien stabbed a potato with his fork and pointed it at Ebba. "If you like it so much, you eat it."
All he got back was a glare. Ebba resumed eating. "You have to have something. You haven't eaten for the whole three days I've been here. No wonder you're so skinny. If you're anorexic, I'll have to call the doctor."
"I've got the shits! How about that?" Damien shouted, slamming his cutlery on the table. It was a lie, obviously. He couldn't even defecate. He had no digestive system.
This worked to shut her up. Ebba cringed. "How lovely."
They were both silent for a while. Ebba finished her dinner, called Claire to come and collect the plate, then began talking Damien's ear off once more. She was gossiping about people he didn't even know. He had tuned out at this point.
"Aoi, are you even listening?" She asked in a sharp tone.
"Not really." Damien shrugged. "Couldn't really give a shit." Literally, he almost added. He snorted at his own humour.
"You should give a shit." She steepled her fingers. "It's about you. I think it's high time you got married."
"I'm 16, you dumb cow."
"Your mother was your age when she got married."
Damien clenched his fist at the mention of her. She didn't even deserve that title. She probably only got married for money. She was the greediest, coldest bitch he had ever known.
"I've been thinking about this a lot lately." Ebba said. "I mean, you don't want to wait until you're so old that nobody wants you."
If only she knew the truth. He wasn't going to age. He wasn't human. He would be young until the day he died. How would she react when he was in his 40s and still had the face and body of a 20 year old? If she even lived that long.
"I don't think that will be a problem." Damien muttered.
"Even if you say that, I believe you should have a husband." Ebba said. "So, I've arranged an engagement between you and my friend's son, Robert."
Damien sat up straight, eyes as wide as the moon. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. Robert's a nice boy."
"I don't even know who the fuck this Robert is!" Damien stood up and slammed his hands on the table. "You can't just marry me off and expect me to go along with it!"
"I can and will". Ebba sipped on her wine. "I'm your legal guardian. I can make decisions for you."
"That's fucking disgusting! I haven't seen or heard from you for over a year, and now you just turn up and start making major changes to my life? Fuck you!"
"Watch your language with me. Regardless of how you feel, I'm in charge of you, and that's final."
Damien gritted his teeth and slumped back onto the chair. She was right. He couldn't do anything about. The Parental Rights act of 3473 dictated that parents or legal guardians could make decisions about their child's future if it was in their best interest. Before it was passed, there was an immense number of child street gangs and teenage pregnancy. In the 3470s, the governments of the world were still in charge. Dana hadn't even been born yet. To combat this problem of children going wild and causing trouble, the world's politicians created this law to keep them in control. It meant that children had to do everything their parents told them to. If they spoke out, they were ignored and told to suck it up and deal with it. There was nothing they could do.
"Claire's been more of a guardian to me than you, so it shouldn't count." Damien grumbled.
Ebba glared at him. She gave him a mocking laugh. "It's not like I'm happy about it, either. You're an ugly, chaotic little layabout. Who would want to be your guardian?"
Damien stared daggers at her, but didn't speak. Even though he couldn't stand her, it hurt him to hear her talk about him like this.
"I see you're using tape to make your Jap's eyes more white." Ebba smirked.
And there it was. The true reason he hated her.
He stood up and threw his plate off the table. "You're the reason I wear it in the first place!" He yelled while storming out.
Once he was alone in his room, his rage poured out. He screamed into his pillow. He'd had to deal with this all his life. Ebba had bullied him, calling him ugly because of his eyes. They embarrassed him, so he used eye tape to make them wider. She made him ashamed of his own race. He knew he shouldn't have been, but growing up with comments made about him being hideous for not being white gave him a massive complex.
Ebba had always despised him for being Asian. She never approved of her precious daughter marrying someone who wasn't white. She still thought Damien was Kenta's son, even though she knew the evil, depraved things he did to him. She blamed Damien - and to a lesser extent Dana, but she never visited her - for even being born and ruining her "perfect" Caucasian bloodline.
If only this bitch would piss off and leave him alone.
"Aoi." Ebba yelled from downstairs. "Where's the vacuum? I need to clean up this mess you've made."
"Up your fucking ass!"
"Stop with your little emo shtick." Her footsteps retreated. "It's in the closet, yes?"
A cold chill ran through Damien. She couldn't go in there. Under no circumstances could she go in there.
He threw open the door and yelled down the stairs, "Don't go in the-"
But it was too late.
He heard a shrill scream come from Ebba. Shit. That means she found them. He raced down and saw Ebba on the floor in front of the closet. She was as white as snow. Damien looked at the closet and swallowed the lump in his throat.
As he had already known and dreaded someone finding, inside were the skeletal remains of his mother and step-father.