Prologue

"You are such a disgrace to this family!" I remembered my father shouting furiously, before slapping my face so hard that I landed on my side.

I remembered clutching my reddened face, thinking how his words had hurt me more than the slap itself.

I remembered trying to look straight into his eyes with my blurry ones, hoping to find at least some kind of emotion a "loving" father would usually give to his daughter in times of distress.

But there's none.

I remembered how it felt when hot tears finally streamed down my aching face after only seeing hatred and disappointment on his face.

I remembered the way he took a step towards me before saying sternly how he wished that I wasn't his daughter and that I wasn't welcome in our house anymore.

I remembered leaving the place where I grew up only feeling pain and nothing else. Not from the slap he gave me, but from the way he treated me like I'm not his own blood and flesh.

That was the last time I saw my father.

I asked myself why I am now remembering such hurtful and painful things from the past, particularly that very moment which I wasn't very fond of.

I said it like it happened ages ago, but technically, it had only been a few months prior to that incident with my father.

Nine months. Nine months to be exact. Nine struggling months had already passed since my so-called "father" had hurtfully and painfully kicked me out of our house for being "such a disgrace to the family", as what he had put it.

I don't even have the luxury to call him "dad" anymore. I already lost my right to call him that months ago when he threw me out of the house. It really hurt at first, the fact that he didn't give me the chance to explain everything before kicking me out, has left me devastated and quite distraught. Just how could a father do that to his own daughter? His only daughter and only living relative?

Fortunately for me, I learned how to deal with it for those few months I've been on my own, letting it sink into my very core that he despised me now and I should just probably accept the fact that he really discarded me—my existence and my very being—out of his life now.

Sad but it's the truth.

I was just hurt that he opted to cast me out instead of hearing what I had to say.

I let every single detail of our confrontation that night be carved in my mind like a perfect marble statue similar to the ones I grew up seeing surrounding our so called "mansion".

Well except, there wasn't really a confrontation that time.

The second I dropped the news to him, he just exploded like a walking time bomb and he didn't let me talk or explain anymore. All he did was shout and curse at me, letting my pride that's already been trampled upon be crushed even more by merely pure words. Pure insulting words.

To him what I did was so shameful, so scandalous, so immoral, that he needed to get rid of me out of his life that instant.

I thought that my demoralization couldn't get any worst.

He topped it all off when he told me to leave his premises.

Maybe I'm remembering that moment now because, just like that time, I'm also currently hurting and in a lot of pain. I justified to myself just as another excruciating pain ripped through my entire body, making me shut my eyes momentarily as I tried to compose myself.

I know I was right as to why my mind seemed to suddenly recall that moment with my father. But I also know that it's not entirely true.

While my father had put me through so much pain way back then, this pain I'm suffering right now was not the same kind of pain.

Yes. This was different.

This was a kind of pain which you would willingly go through with so much joy and acceptance all at the same time, which my father never did or will ever do for me.

I tried breathing in and out roughly through my mouth to alleviate some of the pain, but it barely helped me ease it. I could still feel it in almost every part of my body, but most likely in my lower region.

"Push!" I heard the old midwife say to me, but I was too weak to comply—I was even too tired to open my eyes—and my body hurts so much that I think I'm gonna pass out.

"Come on, my child." She softly encouraged, suddenly feeling a hand rest on my left thigh. "Just a little bit more. You can do it."

I slowly opened my eyes to look at her then tried my hardest just to comply this time.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" I screamed at the top of my lungs just before another intense pain shook me to the core.

A labored breathing ran pass through my parted lips and I can feel my consciousness slowly slipping away. It was a battle that I was starting to lose. But I held it off and tried once again, gripping the sheets beside me while I shout and push at the same time with all my might.

Soon, I felt a relief down the lower part of my body and I let a small smile graze my lips, knowing that my job was finally done… For now.

My eyelids started to drop as darkness slowly enveloped me.

The last thing I heard before my consciousness left me were the crying sound of a new born baby and the midwife saying "It's a girl".

A/N: Hi guys! Welcome to my second FT fanfic. I uploaded this cause i wanted to take a little breather on my first one. And I would just like to say thank you for taking some of your time reading this. Tell me what you guys think. Should I continue this or not? Let me know ^_^
Again, thank you...

***I don't own FT or any of it's characters. It all belongs to the great Hiro Mashima.