𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐌

60| S E S S E N T A

AKILA'S POV

An empty mind, a numb body, a neutral face. That's who I am, that's who I grew up to be, that is the person I ended up with, that is the only person who stood by side every second but now it seems all new to me, as if I'm just discovering I'm that person, as if those qualities are upgrading and improving to a level I never knew, to a level I've never felt.

My so-called father stood less than a foot away from me, behind him is the weak fragile figure of my mother. These are the Albirs. The Albirs I was a part of, the family of two and I made it three, I made it three out of their own decisions yet I took the blame.

Not much has changed about them aside from the aged features and white hair. His eyes are empty, pure of guilt and regret, just like I expected them to be. One thing I will always appreciate till this day, till this moment I get to live is that I never thought how different it would have been if he didn't turn out like this. Not once did I wonder how life would have been with a supportive family, with the protection of a father and the warmth of a mother. And I'm thankful for that, because daydreaming about something impossible only ruins you, it destroys you and toys you around your own head, driving you insane.

Throughout my twenty four years of living, not once I wished for another life, to be another person. Even when I was broken, even when I laid on the floor weak, dying, I never wished for anything that included them. That's how much I hate them, that's how much I was hungry for their blood even when I couldn't take it.

I would only see him once or twice a year, he never came down to check on his beaten daughter by his own father, he was just making sure I'm behaving right, if I'm being the perfect toy that doesn't make a sound.

He didn't care about anything but himself. His father always hated him, he would show Gerardo how disappointed he is, how he can easily turn against him and snatch his title away, left with no power and no money. He never respected his son, he saw him unworthy, a man with no mind and manners and he's right. I believe that's the only time I will agree with my grandfather. And when Teresa had a daughter, not the son Gerardo promised his father, he gave it away exactly like he would have wanted. He knew his father would only forgive his doing of birthing a girl if he handed her over and that's what he did.

Heartbreaking, isn't it? Yeah, I couldn't care less now. I've healed, I've survived the life they gave me and I'm coming for revenge, I'm coming for their last glimpse of breath. I'm not coming to discuss and hear apologies, I'm coming and leaving with lifeless bodies. I'm coming to have their heads hung on my favorite shelf. I rise, I rise so high where they can't reach me, where they hunt for another child to hold prisoner and abuse but the thing is, they only want me, they only crave me.

They carve my screams, they crave my empty eyes, dying empty eyes where hope escaped and life vanished, where I didn't think of tomorrow and wished for today to end.

They're desperate, they're starving because that's their only way to survive, to satisfy off another person, off an innocent child who managed to run away and save the last bit of self left in her. It's crazy to admit that I've became something close to them, that I enjoy and share their interests.

He didn't change from the much I knew, his gaze remained cold and fixed on me, not considering the gun I'm holding against his head. He's playing a game; he's trying to scare me, to hide away his own fear and build it up inside of me. He's trying to make me remember, push the memories in my head and back away but little does he know, I'm always remembering. I'm always picturing every single hit after another. I'm always feeling it burning down my skin. I'm always reliving that life over and over again.