To Mix Love With Hate On Accident

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A month after his birth, his mother had her first dream of his death. He was noisy, as always, and She simply despised him. However, He was the responsibility of the unwilling mother. So, instead of relenting to reality and simply abandoning the child, the mother indulged in the dreams of his demise.

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The dreams continued, sick and twisted, each more graphic and sadistically satisfying then the last. It almost didn't seem like a bad idea. But, She was a lady, and it wasn't a ladies place to kill a boy. No matter how disgusting.

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There was no light in his life. He lived in the darkness of his mothers room, very little if any light allowed into the space. His mother could not afford to pay for the electric bill as it was not in the deal with his Father, and she didn't dare risk opening a curtain. What if someone were to see the abomination of a child? So, he lived in darkness. He didn't mind really, he didn't know any differnt. But, maybe, this darkness was why he was so insitant on seeing colors other then the dull greens and drowning black.

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Eight months into his life, he had learned to start crawling around, and it was fun. He would crawl out of his crib at night and feel around the apartment, marveling at all that he came into contact with and the colors that popped with the contact. He had been trapped in perpetuate shades of green and black, laying in the same hard space with a single pillow and thin blanket to match. The exploration introduced him to colors he couldn't hope to name.

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He was scolded harshly for his midnight adventures, and warned that if his beautiful mother wasn't such a lovely lady She would hit him for his behavior. This only prompted him to cry from confusion, unsure what he did wrong or what his mother meant. She only scoffed and placed him back in his bed, warning him not to leave again like He understood the words.

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He left again, not able to comprehend the order not to. He found a wall, and giggled as he ran his hands across it and saw a vibrant orange, though he didn't know its name. excited, he hit the wall to hear the noise of something besides his mother, ironically managing to summon her to sweep him back into black and green confinement.

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His mother put bars over the top of his crib. They felt like the same shade of green as all the other bars.

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His first word was 'hate', because he heard his mother utter it so often. She would growl it at him every chance she got, or in the middle of the night to herself, or when speaking about his 'father', whatever that was. He thought it was kind of a pretty word. It had to be, after all, it was his mother's favorite. His mother, of course, had been asleep when he finally put the letters together correctly. What a shame.

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His birthday came. His mother cried and laughed and screamed. He watched curiously, worriedly. His birthday went. He had no idea.

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He learned how to stand. It wasn't all that surprising, in hind sight, if she would admit it, though she wouldn't. He had little else to do then to try to move more, so it was only natural he learned to stand, especially when he was sleeping on such a hard surface. He gave her a bright (smug, teasing, taunting), proud smile to his mother, and she simply admitted to hating him again. He nodded, excited to hear his mother's favorite word. She must be proud.

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⏰ Last updated: May 31, 2018 ⏰

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