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Philosophy of a blade
Chapter 1- lust

Chapter 1- lust

Chapter One- LUST!

July 3rd, 2023

Siberia, Russia.

ZUMA

The cold winds played a chilly tune with my ribs stirring me awake, I seemed to have slept forever lost in an endless dream whose events plastered itself into my mind with such clarity that it took on a semblance of realism, the events replayed over and over again in my head, that dazzling bright blue sword splitting me in two across the midsection, the hot searing pain that followed afterwards, the feeling of death’s caress only to be put back together again for the vicious cycle to restart.

The vividness of each replay in my head made me slightly nauseous as the ghost of the sword tracked it’s way across my pale rumbling stomach

“I’m fine, I’m normal” I chanted in a raw voice, in hopes to calm my raging emotions

Try as I may, the feelings simply refused to dissipate, instead they became heightened with a sense of pain every time the sword made it’s move and one constant name ringing with each swing

‘EVE!’

I had no clue who that was or why it was so important to hold on to that name, but I sure as hell was done trying to remember any of this silly night terror, the trick about pain is that you can always drown it out with even more pain.

Now this was the easy part, I had the official tragic life story, my parents died in a car crash so there’s that, what’s worse is that they died on the day my sibling was to be born, there was nothing crueler to that little girl waiting for her world to come right back to her, only to have it gone forever.

The cop couldn’t care less though, not a shred of empathy could be seen in those cold blue eyes as he stated gruffly

“Kid there’s been an accident and I am legally obligated to tell you that both of your parents are dead”

I did not cry that day, I could blame it on me being too young or some repressed trauma or whatever it is you pay a therapist to hear but I just could not bring myself to tears, even now I still can’t.

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I like to think my world shattered that evening, that I became not naive and an astounding judge of character in one night but fate had more loads of pure crap to pour down my throat and all of it began August 17th, 2011.

You see my parents did leave somethings behind before their saloon car got crushed by a truck, not enough to be filthy rich but just enough for me to have something, a sense of comfortability if you’d be that kind, but unluckily for me I was too young to own things so I was stuffed right down Father Paul’s Home for Orphans.

Orphan, I learnt to detest the word just as it came to encompass my entire identity, to the world I was just that an orphan, a sad little girl that had come across a terrible encounter, a lesson to other kids to be grateful for their parents, to the other kids in the orphanage, I was fresh meat, something that upset the balance, someone who might actually stand a chance at adoption or maybe it was just because of the attention that He showed me because to him, I was much more than a pretty little sad girl.

Female puberty had always been quite endeared to me and by twelve I had already started developing in ways that would make the other girls quite green with envy, if this were some highschool chick-flicks I would have grown up to be the star cheerleader that excelled that relied on half a braincell to survive. But this isn’t highschool and things get messed up real fast.

Father Paul as the other kids called him in their angelic adoring voices was the pariah of Orion lane, a man who had dedicated his life to the service of children seeking nothing else but his reward in ‘heaven’ could do no wrong in the eyes of the world. How pitiful it was that only I truly knew what monster lay underneath.

Well not only me, I’m sure the other young girls had also experienced the chilliness of his beady eyed look or felt completely unsafe as his squat dumpy figure silently and perversely stalked the halls, his fraying white hair and wide creepy smile giving him the exact looks of a devil as he called in the girls for ‘chats’, I guess I was left to simmer for awhile, settle in, or maybe he was just stalking his prey, trying to enjoy the hunt, too bad he didn’t just have the plans of stalking forever.

The first time was on the sunny afternoon in August when the rest of the kids were out playing and he called me for a one on one talk with me and he gifted me the accursed pair of red underwear

“Put it on” He said in a greasy tone “I want to see how it looks on you”

I refused and a dirty slap resounded heavily across my cheeks, that was the first of many slaps to come as I would soon learn that he enjoyed my disobedience and punishing me for it.

“It’s a gift, you don’t refuse a gift” he growled into my ears, “put it on!”

Tears in my eyes, I let my dress fall and my nude body show as his unholy eyes took in the sight of me, his eyes glistening with anticipation.

“What nice body you have” he said with a crooked smile “maybe you should thank me for my gifts first”

The first session with him seemed to span hours as he proceeded to violate me in numerous ways, The other kids seemed more friendly afterwards, I had become damaged goods like them and the worst days laid ahead, out of my power, out of my control.

That’s my sob story, at least a part of it, I have courses through hell and had demons in form of men caress me, what’s another unshakable night terror but spice to the soup, I have no power over things out in the world but I sure as hell am not going to be phased by some bad dream and I ask the all the crazies out to get me, Insane nightmare who?