𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 | R. SUKUNA

Chapter : Twenty One

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"Drained"

Chapter 021

» 受け «

"My suffering, his death."
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(mention of suicide)
listen to goodbye by billie for the extra effect!

Six years later.

Scrubbing the floor diligently, another maid deliberately nudged the bucket, causing it to fall onto the floor. A faint, taunting chuckle slipped from the maid as she darted away, joining her giggling friends. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you stared down at your hands, red and bruised from all the hard work.

Six long years had crawled by since you arrived at this mansion, six years that felt like an eternity in torment. Not a single smile had graced your lips in all that time. These years had been a ceaseless descent into the depths of despair, anxiety, and haunting memories. Your feet bore the bruises of merciless beatings, and the memory of a traumatic incident four years ago left you with one deaf ear.

Your body had been reduced to a pitiable state, forcing you to crawl like a wounded creature, robbed of its ability to walk. Humiliation became a daily companion, an unrelenting shadow that clung to you no matter where you turned.

In the span of these six years in China, you'd managed to grasp the language enough to understand the words exchanged among the maids. Among them, you were treated as the lowest of the low, a scapegoat for their worst treatment. You were convinced they regarded you with less value than a mere pig. Even when new maids arrived, they were showered with kindness compared to the cruelty that was your daily existence.

Their justification was a twisted one – they argued that your previous luxurious life demanded you endure the same two decades of suffering that they suffered when they didn't have bread or shelter.

Your desperation had driven you to attempt suicide on multiple occasions, yet each time you were thwarted, caught in the act or simply unsuccessful. Astonishingly, the punishment for seeking release through death surpassed the agony you endured for even the smallest of transgressions.

One particularly brutal memory stood out, the image of being dragged across the floor while your arms were whipped till they bled. Cold showers and neglect followed, your fevered body a canvas for their sadistic whims, as long as you clung to life.

For they found pleasure in your suffering.

The faint flicker of hope that Sukuna would somehow rescue you had faded, replaced by the harsh reality that he had abandoned you. Forgotten and forsaken, you chose to abandon the notion of waiting for salvation.