Everything in life had a profound and logical reason for its creation,even every action had its own logical happenings. Some things might get caught up in the middle of a raging situation due to an endless chain of life events.
My mother was always furious, for a cause or without it, none of my doings were favourable to her. We lived in poverty, and our town was vast, yet contained a modest number of villagers. We were all related to each other,everyone knew everyone else. My mother was known for her pride, her raging manner, and her ruthlessness. My father never dared to oppose her, even though he was a wealthy man. My father was a rich farmer, he worked day and night in his gigantic fields.
Ever since I remember, I knew that my mother wasn't a person I could confide into. She was intelligent and intolerant of my childish behaviour. What mattered for her was gold and compiling more of it.
I believe that my birth was indigenous news for my family. They never wanted a female as a first newborn. They needed a male to carry out their legacy. I was yet unaware of the immense vile I was going to face.
Later on, Edward was born, then Simon and Eleanor. We weren't raised equally. The boys were in grave acceptance and respect, even Eleanor was adored more, and I was kept for the end.
Our ages were relatively near to one another. We had 2 years gap in between.
I was 5 years old, and my siblings were still younger. I started to clean the house and fulfil house chores. I mopped the floor, dusted the tables, organised the beds, and went to collect eggs from our farm.
My naturally soft hands changed from that age into stiff fingers and scaly hands.
Once I was sent to our neighbours' house, they were even richer than us. I rang the door bell, a servant opened the door, I was surprised that they had servants. "I'll use Sam in the house, no need for servants snooping around, neither losing money on them!" I remembered mother saying to my father. "Come in, Sam." Sara told me she was my age. She had on a splendid pink night pj's, we shook hands, and my rough hands poked hers.
"Oh, Sam. You must get your hands some good moisturiser. " I only nodded in acceptance. "Sit down, my dear. I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate with me." She informed me as she left. I admired the quiet house. No one was yelling around. It was spotless and organised. Most importantly, I was amazed at the state Sara was in. She was dearly respected, well dressed, and seemed genuinely joyful.
What sort of feeling is joy? I couldn't comprehend it! I can fathom getting abhorred, disrespect, and pushed around all day.
Sara came back with 2 cups. That was the first time that childish drink. I couldn't forget its taste, it was sweet and perfect. We didn't have that sort of drink, maybe because no one thought of what the kids would prefer to drink.
I recollect the smell of Sara's house. It was of smooth vanilla. I didn't want to leave that house. Life there seemed right and tolerable.
After I got older a bit, all of my siblings and I used to sit together down for lunch. I always noticed that the plates were filled with meat and rice, while I had none. I snatched a piece out of Edward's plate, so he told on me. I was beaten for stealing that piece.
Eventually, I got used to having half full plates, rice with minus the fish plate, chicken and potato minus the chicken plate... But my heart would struggle with the immense weight of sadness inside. It wasn't that I craved food a lot, but I seeked love, attention, and care. I lacked them all and more, I only found hatred everywhere.