I've always grown up knowing I'd be king someday. I was going to rule a country and wear a crown on my head. Yet, I knew there would never be much change in my life. I mean, I would still be my father's little puppet; the face of the country while he stood in his office making all the decisions. I knew it would be my life until he died. Part of me hated myself for even thinking of how great life would be without him in my life. I mean I'm thinking of my life without him, what son does that. But then again, what father beats his son for forgetting an assignment, for asking a question, for making a mistake.

I remember my first beating. I was only eleven. I had asked the advisors what the point of the caste system we have in Illea. "Italy or New Asia don't have them and they are better off than our country." My dad got so mad at that statement that he dragged and locked me in his office. He went off to finish the advisor meeting. While he was away, I got curious and looked through some of the papers. I remember looking at some of them that had the crime sentences for some of the people. I was shocked. Ten years for stealing bread! When my father came back, I questioned the crime sentences. He was outraged. He told be to stand against the wall and close my eyes. I was about to ask where he was because I didn't hear anything. Before I could turn my head, I felt excruciating pain in my back. It was as if my back was split in half. I was too shocked to do anything. I turned to ask my father why he was doing this. But when my eyes meet his, it wasn't my father faced at me. He was a whole different person. His eyes were as cold as stone as he gave me one last whip. He then ordered me to get out of his office.

I ran sobbing to my room to be away from him. My shirt was wet from blood. As I took it off, I felt a sticky sound and winced in pain. I decided to take a bath, but when I got in I screamed in pain. I had no idea what to do. I decided to go to my mom's room and tell her since she'd know what to do. But then again, would that make me a horrible person for telling her. She thinks my father is an amazing king and whenever I accidentally trip, she gets so worried. I'm her only son, and she doesn't want to lose me. I decided to deal with the pain. How could I hurt my mother like that. A little later, my dad came into my room with the doctor. He looked shocked when he saw my back, but then silenced when his eyes my father. He treated my wounds as I tried to keep from wincing. My father may have hit me, but I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me. When the doctor finished healing my wounds, my father told us not a word to anyone. Before he left, he told me that I hoped I learned my lesson. My only problem was I didn't know what I did wrong. I always asked questions and although he was annoyed he put up with them.

Seven years has passed since that day and I'll never forget it. How could I. Whenever I walk past him and look in his eyes, I feel the pain all over again. It never goes away, even in my sleep. I was lucky if I were able to sleep for an hour without waking up from nightmares. After that day, something happened to my father. Whenever I made the smallest mistake, he would strike me with a whip or two so I could learn my lesson. It's like a sickness; he likes to see me in pain. When one starts to heal, I get another one that cuts it even further. I wonder what I'd tell my wife when I got married. That led to a smile on my face. Just last week, I turned 18. That meant one more year until my selection. One more year until I'd find the kind of love my father and mother have found. But other times, I doubt myself. What if I don't find my soul mate in those 35 girls they bring. I lay down on my bed and tried to think about how my soul mate would look rather than the pain of my fresh gash on my back. I tried to think about a day were I'd be happy.