𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓
HERE'S THE BULK OF THE IRONY: for having a surname like Lovelace, Chantara had never understood the feeling of love. To care for another human without any strings attached. It was something she never seemed to grasp, becau...
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HER STORY WAS NOT LIKE THE ones she read in books. The ones about the beautiful protagonist with golden locks and striking features. The ones where everything seemed to always fall into place and nothing bad ever happened. The ones where the two lovers are reunited at the end. Her story was not like the ones she read in books, and she was forced to learn it the hard way.
Tara could still remember her first kiss. But unlike the stories she read, hers was nothing like it. It wasn't one of her happiest memories, where sparks grew in her abdomen and their lips fit perfectly together. But a memory that would become her greatest downfall: her worst memory.
Edward had been her first friend. Her only friend. He had joined her one day during recess in elementary school and offered her his lunch after Frederick and Eric had taken hers. She had refused at first, never before had she thought such kindness could occur to her, and after many moments of persuasion, she obliged. It had been a chicken sandwich — herfavourite. And then he sat next to her in the schoolyard and ignored his growling stomach, feeling proud of himself as he watched her devour the sandwich. And they talked about everything kids at that age talked about.
It happened at a time when she still believed in friendship, at a time when the world seemed a little brighter. She was yet to know the horrors that would come. After all, she was still an innocent child. The home of the Lovelace family was alright, she would always tell herself that it could have been worse. Mother and Father were constantly devoured in governmental work, not paying much attention to her (being the second child and all), though they loved her brother. In their eyes, Frederick was everything Chantara was not.
She did not like it at home, but it was not too bad.
Her face grew sharper over the years, the skin on her knuckles became rough, thick and dry after she and Edward started training martial arts a few times a week after school. It became a place where she could release emotions which she bottled up at home, and she enjoyed every second of it. It was one of those late evenings in his garage at the age of thirteen when things took a negative turn for the little girl.
It had been a progression of bad habits growing at the Lovelace home. Father was often seen with a beer in his hands during her teenage years, bruises had started to appear on her body from small incidents and punishments. But she was surviving. Her suffering became easy to ignore, as long as she didn't say anything back or skip any of her chores, she was alright. The pale scar on the back of her hand from two years prior, when the fork had pierced her skin had started to fade.
Chantara came home later than usual that evening, because Edward had challenged her to one too many parry sessions.
His weight was crushing her against the floor as that nonchalant smile spread across his lips, eyes sparkling mischievously. Even in the dim light the sweat escaping from his pores illuminated his soft features, and she couldn't help but blush over the fact that their faces were inches from each other.
