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Disclaimer: I owe nothing of Hunter x Hunter that solely belongs to Togashi Yoshihiro.
It was raining the day my life changed; I remember that afternoon vividly. The once blue sky was dull and crowded with heavy clouds awaiting to dump their load. My mother and I stood in the streets under a tattered, green umbrella she picked up yesterday.
Cracks, trash, and colorful flyers littered the cement and buildings around down town. Crevasses were quickly filling up with water and most had already taken shelter from this downpour. Even on a good day, few braved the streets of this area, yet, today, of all days, five souls stood waiting at the juncture between Applewood Drive and Maple Avenue.
I grasped my mother's hand tightly in my own while curiously glancing between her guilt ridden lavender eyes and the three strangers. All three were tall, intimidating men; each wore a form fitting black suit and carried their own dark umbrellas. The one in the middle had beady little eyes, a curled mustache and stood slightly in front of the others. Both males in the back looked strikingly similar with their muscular build, dark hair and facial structure. they could have passed for brothers if one wasn't obviously from Nippon descent. Nippon is a small island country in the East, I once saw the archipelago in one of mother's travel guides but didn't learn more until much later. My small self wished that she were home as mother hadn't gifted me with a jacket or protection against the storm.
Tugging lightly on her grip I questioned, "mama?" When she didn't look at me I looked to my now soaked, new white shoes. "I'm cold," I whispered, partly afraid to disturb her quiet.
Mother remained silent as the rain pelted harshly around us. That morning my mother took intensive care in my appearance and there was no primping to keep my doll like quality neat. I thought her efforts were ruined, at the time that upset me greatly. The sudden care for my appearance should have made me suspicious; after all, we were dirt poor no one would be surprised if we ended up wearing trash bags. Though, on this day mother intertwined her sole red silk ribbon through my strawberry blond locks. Her once vibrant red hair has dulled through the years and peppered with white strands. She said that I looked more like my father than her. Next, she dressed me in a beautiful purple dress with a square neckline. The dress was decorated with white, lacy edges and flowed out from the waist to end right above my knees. I felt like a princess.
Before that day I rarely wore dresses and never anything that nice. All I managed to do through this process was squeak a out a small, excited wow and twirl. I gave into my childish urges as I swirled around, each time faster than the last. The top, lacy layer of my skirt rose up to show a royal purple bottom embroidered with intricately detailed flowers. Questioning mother about my sudden change in wardrobe never crossed my mind as I danced with an imaginary prince.
I probably should of noticed her sad smile and somber atmosphere but I didn't. I once thought that maybe if I had, then I could have escaped what happened next. Though, thinking back on the event now, given the chance, I wouldn't have changed a thing.
On the street, the middle man set his calculative scrutiny on me, personally appraising my worth. His practiced gaze straining to spot any abnormalities before their purchase. Finding none, he gave a tiny nod of approval which set the two remaining males into action. A silent command was signaled as the Nippon man passed a thin briefcase into mother's eager hands; glee replaced the guilt within her eyes. The other man, shorter but just as frightening, gave me a brief glimpse of pity before reaching out.
Paralyzed, frozen, petrified, whatever you call it; I was trapped. Unknowing of what happened I attempted to struggle. It seems as though they had taken captive of my body after the man touched me. At the same instance, I swore that I saw a trail of brilliant yellow snake above his skin, and disappear into my forehead where two of his fingers were resting. An unfamiliar, deep voice resounded loudly in my mind; I failed in my fight against the mental hold. Obey it say, no escape followed the command.
Steel mental cages appeared locking my true self in. Yet in reality, I was obediently follow the men into their sleek, black vehicle. Wanting to turnaround, but can't, I caught a glimpse of my mother in the driver's rear view mirror. Her, now forgotten, package hung limply by her side; thin, pale lips mouthing something. She stared at the vehicle and its occupants lost as to why it was there before remembering. Once again, guilt flooded her eyes and she raised a useless hand in the direction of the car. Perhaps she thought about changing her decision, but the appendage was lowered as quickly as it was raised.
Being a conscious prisoner meant that I had ample time to think. It wasn't long before I deciphered what she was mouthing over and over: I love you. I'm sorry. Please forgiveness. I love you. I'm sorry. Please forgive me.
I know that this is a short chapter but it's only a prologue. I'm extremely excited about this story so I couldn't help but give a sample out prematurely.