Bound by Power

The Cold Walls of Home

School was supposed to be an escape, but for me, it was just another battlefield. My parents looked at me, but they never truly saw me. There was no warmth in their voices, no tenderness in their touch. I grew up in a house filled with silence, a silence that screamed that I was unwanted.

This emotional void followed me to my primary school. My grades suffered because my mind was always elsewhere—searching for a love that didn’t exist at home. My teachers saw a struggling student, but my classmates saw a target. I was the quiet girl, the one with the hollow eyes, and they made sure to remind me of my loneliness every single day.

But the real nightmare began when the school bell rang.

Returning home didn't mean safety; it meant facing my sisters. They didn't just dislike me; they hated my very existence. I would walk into my room only to find my world shattered. My dolls—the only friends I had—lay slaughtered on the floor. Their heads torn off, their stuffing scattered like snow. And right next to them, my sisters would leave a sharp, cold knife—a silent, terrifying message that I was never safe, not even in my own bed.

I was a child surrounded by family, yet I had never felt more like an orphan