Ken walked from the cockpit and sat among the girls in the cargo bay of Jetmarine. He looks in their eyes and internally sighs, even though he's been in the same circumstance in his past relationships; why doesn't it get any easier?
"My name was Shawn Spencer and I was the only child of Henry and Martha Spencer, even though I always thought having younger siblings would be great. I was happy and content living as things were; a middle class happy family.
We lived in Bucktown in the state of Chicago, USA, around N Elston Ave. Even though we lived among some very rich dudes and friends in the neighborhood, my father would always remind me,"He that is down needs fear no fall". And it was---"
"W-wait, what is Ave??" asks Shia who draws the girls mind to it. They look briefly at her before waiting for an answer.
"Umm... It's short for 'Avenue', a settlement system put in place for cities larger than Fuhuren to make alot of things easier. You will see when you arrive on Earth"
"Does that mean everything is the same as your previous world, Master?"
"Technically yes. Most concepts, laws of physics and Maths as well as technology are the same. Only people are different, the celebrities and influential people of my world either don't exist or have taken on different paths..."
"...you can continue"
"So were was I... Oh yeah, my father was right. In a world where most information were known with a search, magic didn't exist, no feudalism and spirituality was a controversial topic, the rich or upper class people have to work harder to keep their wealth and liabilities inorder not to fall.
In summary, Earth was different compared to this world where rich merchants, nobles, the church and royalty keep knowledge of advanced ranked magics and powerful artifacts. My family in such a world were at least content with our lots.
And as you've sensed, there's a But. And it happened when I was nine, the paradigm shift of our lives. It was a normal family dinner and even though my father worked in a big corporation, he always made sure we had dinner together.
We would sit around the dinning table, talk about our day; both hard and fun times. And he rarely kept secrets from us especially my mother who he loved very much.
Before we finished our food, we heard the electric bell buzz and my father went to see who it could be since it wasn't like we didn't have visitors once in a while.
"Who is it?" I heard my father ask who looked through the peephole for correct identification but all we heard was silence before the door opened and soon my father came in with his hands up as a sweaty and dirty man in brown clothes pointed a gun to him and in turn to us.
Apparently, the robber threatened to shot my father behind the door if he didn't open and even though he won't be able to achieve his objective with the neighbors calling the police, my father might die.
We knew it was a robbery and nothing else, so my father held us tight and assured the nervous man –who by his mannerisms, one could identify it was his first armed robbery– that we would comply.
But my mother who wasn't the most calm in such situations agitated the already nervous robber with her little yelps and body shakes as I tried to calm her down.
In the process of the robber trying to threaten her to shut it with his gun, a shot was heard and instinctively everyone shut their eyes including the robber until we heard a little squeak and we immediately knew who had been shot as my father rushed to stop the blood flow from her neck.
The robber who was in a trance of disbelief the whole time, was tackled by my enraged father who knew there was no saving his wife and love, started to jab him whiles on top. The robber's gun fell close to me but that was the least concerns of a nine year old whose mother was bleeding out and was powerless to do a thing.
Soon the sounds of punches hitting flesh and cheekbones was replaced with my father's sounds of pain as the robber kicked him over with his knee, before a ceramic plate to his head.
I turn to see the robber coming to my direction for his gun with rage in his eyes and blood from his mouth and nose, so I knew I had to do something or I would die. It at that moment that an empowering feeling filled my body as I reached for the heaviest thing I've carried till that point in my life and emptied two successive shots to his abdomen and a third two seconds later.
By the time the police and ambulance came in , that feeling has left me as I dropped the gun and my father crawled to my mother. My mother of course didn't make it but the robber survived and it was years later that I found out he succumbed to the injuries I inflicted.
My family was not and ever will be the same"
Ken paused to see a myriad of emotions on the face of the girls but there was no pity for they knew that's what made him Ken today. They asked questions about some otherworldly terms and stuff which Ken answered. With a thankful smile and a grateful heart, he continued;
" Five years passed with a lot happening in between. I had to grow up fast inorder to know how to cook, do laundry, house cleaning and study hard to make my father proud and draw his attention but alas my father's heart was gone. I didn't blame him because his grief, showed his enduring love for my mother.
Every single day for that five years were a robotic way of life; rise, eat silently, go to work with his shoulders dropped and sleep after dinner. He wasn't in the right state to care about the psychological hurdles of his child who shot someone at a young age and I had much to do to notice that he always blamed himself for my mother's death.
After that five years things changed from blaming himself to blaming me as he started abusing me, which I endured for three years while nesting dark thoughts.
At that age of fourteen, I knew there was nothing I could do and the abuse wasn't something dangerous, so I stayed and continued my daily routines. I will even deny everything, when my neighbors call Child services after hearing my screams which I was beaten for.
It was at the age of seventeen that the abuse started getting bloody as every day frustrations were fueled into his abuse to basically vent his everything. But things were going extreme one day and I knew I might end up in the hospital but soon a familiar sensation empowered my beaten body.
I retaliated with every energy left in me and hit him with my fist and anything I could find around as I fulfilled my darkest desires. As I was about to end his pathetic life with a planned three hundred stabs with the kitchen knife, my mother's dead image overlapped his swollen and multicolored face and with that I dropped it and left the house, never knowing what became of him..."
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