A/N: Again, my apologies for the slow update. I have just been dumped with a bunch of new duties for the club I'm in and finals are rapidly approaching! In fact, I'm sitting in class right now pretending to pay attention as I type this. I'm sorry!
By the way, reviews make me happy ^^ so if you read please review or I won't want to continue DX
Chapter 4:
I could only assume that my memories were true considering his grim expression and the manner in which he'd accepted my statement. He seemed to have known I had discovered something dark within our family. Gradually, my tears slowed as I waited in rapt silence for him to continue. He stared me down for a long moment before walking to my side and placing his hand on my cheek in a rare show of affection.
"Your mother," said he, brushing my hair back behind my ear before leaning back against the desk, "was a very strange woman. I didn't like her when my father first introduced us nor did I like her when our marriage was arranged. She was always very possessive of me, clinging on like some strange variety of sea urchin, and when you were born her behavior grew extreme. You were her pride and joy and I remember her declaring on the very day of your birth 'this child shall be our last' and it was so. She always kept you locked away in your nursery and never allowed me to hire a nurse to bring you up."
He waited for me to absorb this information and after a few seconds of silence I said "Yes, Akito mentioned having a nurse."
He nodded once before continuing in a very cold, solemn tone, "She began dressing you in clothes that she claimed were top of the line and handmade by a famous designer. The clothes were always rather erotic-looking."
I
held up a hand to stop him, "When did you find out what she was
doing?"
"Your eighth birthday."
I stared at him and quietly told him that I could barely remember anything from before that point. He nodded and assured me that that was no surprise considering what had happened.
"It was after your party that we found her in your room. She was drunk on champagne and high off drugs and you were trapped beneath her on your bed. She was, as you would imagine, not doing anything I should like to mention. I had come upstairs with your oldest brother in hopes of showing you the family vault for the first time."
I shuddered, remembering the horrible feeling of her lips on mine. My father noticed and his eyes closed.
"We locked her in the bathroom and she went of a terrible rampage. She threw such a fit that in due process she destroyed the bathroom mirror and cracked all the porcelain fixtures in the room. She screamed like a banshee the entire time. By the time we calmed you down- you were absolutely hysterical and incredibly confused at the time- it was nearly four in the morning. You slept in Akito's room that night. Do you remember this?"
I sighed deeply and looked at the floor with unfocused eyes "I remember... screaming... and..." my voice trailed off as I remembered the sound of my mother screaming at me like a animal from behind the door- beating her fists against it all the while. A flash of sight from that day shot into my mind like lightning.
I remembered running to my father and grabbing him by the waist. 'Father!' I kept screaming in my childish voice.
I shook my head to clear it of the memory. My father grabbed another chair and pulled it close to me. I was scared as I'd never seen him so distraught. He looked at me with cold, hard eyes and after a long pause- during which I could scarcely meet his eyes- he asked me if I'd pieced it all together.
I shook my head no and he made yet another attempt to comfort me. He once again raised his hand to my cheek- I barely resisted the instinctive urge to flinch away- and ran his thumb along my cheekbone. I dropped my eyes and a few stray tears slipped down from my eyes and landed on my father's hand. He looked at me sadly.
"Why didn't I remember her? And why am I remembering her now?"
The questions hung in the air like thick smog.
"What happened just before you began remembering things?" he asked me. I frowned realizing he meant the soccer accident and pulled away from his hand.
"I was knocked unconscious-"
"You received a concussion." he said with a note of finality in his voice. I thought about that.
"Perhaps…" said I thinking aloud, "if it was the concussion that brought the memories back… it was another concussion that took them away."
My father nodded and I felt the reality I thought I lived in shatter and fall to the floor in pieces. I was so confused. I couldn't understand my mother had done those things nor did I understand how she could have given me a concussion. I told my father this and he once again assured me that it was a very dark tale.
My heart dropped to the floor. I was scared, I really was. I was trembling- an act that was quite rare and was only brought on by my father's wrath or by heights- and I didn't know how to control myself. I asked my father what had happened.
"The next morning I came to the decision that your mother must be released from the bathroom. I ordered you to stay put in Akito's room. However, when I went downstairs for just a brief moment you ran out of Akito's room and hugged you mother. She decided to use this to her advantage. She'd only just received the news that I was going to send her away to Canada where she could live without harming our family name. She was furious at the idea and insisted that I was trying to steal you from her. She grabbed you by your arm and dragged you to the head of the stairs. I turned around when she screamed my name. She screamed that if she couldn't have you then no one could and threw you headfirst down three flights of stairs. You suffered from severe head trauma and we had to hospitalize you."
I was horrified but not all that surprised considering what I had just heard about my mother. I looked to the ground as my mind spun out of control. I could only imagine that I had wanted to suppress the memories at the time. I knew I must have tried to forget it all. My subconscious urge to forget my terrible past combined with the force of a serious concussion had erased all memories that involved my mother. I was scared. I couldn't believe what I had done without realizing. The sheer power of the human mind was so horrifying to me in that moment that I knew I would never underestimate the subconscious mind again. My father stood, walked to his desk, and drew out another photo.
"You," he said placing the photo into my hand and wrapping my fingers around it, "a week after being released from the hospital."
I stared at the photo for a long moment. I looked like I'd been dragged through the mud. A hand shaped bruise covered my neck and there were enormous dark circles beneath my eyes. I looked confused, or rather, distant and my eyes seemed to have lost their innocence. My shoulders were straight and my head high- ordinarily giving an impression of confidence- yet a strange sadness was there. Like gloomy clouds across the sky I could feel the darkness within the picture.
"I never told you what happened because you didn't appear to have any recollection of your mother. You woke up after being unconscious for a few hours and when we asked you if you remembered what happened you could only say that you fell. I asked you what happened between you and your mother and you replied in the most heartbreaking manner I've ever seen. You looked me straight in the eyes and said 'wasn't she supposed to be going on a trip...' like it was nothing. We decided it was better for you if we said nothing and acted as though your mother was a perfectly normal person."
I looked at him with sheer horror at the idea of brushing the abuse I'd suffered away so easily. But then… what would I have him do besides what he already did. Surely things would have been easier if I had never discovered my past. Oh how I wished to go back to those days of ignorant bliss! Or at least know the entire truth for myself so that I wouldn't be forced to find out in such short bits!
In a fiery burst of devastation I buried my head in my hands.
"To think," said I, "that I could forget something of such significance…"
My father stood before me with an ashen face and dark eyes. He regarded me coolly for a moment and placed a single, pale hand on my shoulder.
"We never wanted you to find out. When I, along with your older siblings, realized you had no relocation of your misfortune we felt hopeful that you could once again become a normal child. I raised you to what you've become: a proud, intelligent, resourceful, talented, man with great prospects. I know you will rise past the pain of what you've learned."
I bowed my head as one final tear slipped down my cheek. I had to move on. I had to. I had to.
In that moment I made a decision that would seriously impact my life: I would either forget everything about my mom or remember everything and confront her.
I stood, backed a few steps away, and bowed.
"I will rise to the occasion Father. This I swear."
One old nightmare, one new reality, one parent of malpractice, and several thousand tears.
