His Pleasure My Pain

Looking down at my hands, I, myself, am disgusted. I have no beauty, nor do I have an appealing appearance, so why would a guy present me with love? Does that even exist? I believed that my suffering would not be for eternity because there would eventually come a day when a prince would come to my rescue and, romantically, hide me away from the horror I was mandated to live through. Yes, this false hope of belongingness, which could better be known as a ridiculous ideology of being someone’s priceless possession, motivated me to dip my hands in icy cold-water years after years; listening to continuous absurdity darting towards my worthless existence, but I remained strong because I had to believe my dying mother’s words - “Daphne, my child. You are loved and needed. You are special and I will always protect you. A prince will come, my angel, and he will give you the love you deserve. Till then, be strong, be kind, and embrace forgiveness”. I was 10 when I lost my only friend, so why wouldn’t I believe her? She was my mother, she gave me life therefore she should definitely know my worth, but years proved that not only was she wrong about me being special, but I was also lied about deserving affectionate happiness from everyone, let alone a prince. You must be thinking, well she had her dad, so what was I complaining off? My dad hadn’t seen my face since my mother’s death as he blamed me for his and her unfortunate misery. The man who once proudly introduced me as his daughter was finding my very existence revolting. Maybe that is why he sent me away to live with his sister, as he did not want me to bring any more misfortune to the household. I cried and cried, begging him to give me one more chance; I eventually started negotiating with my own father to never show my face if he did not send me away. Unfortunately, to my dismay, that didn’t work and, in return, I was only met with a slap to my face. That was the first time I was ever slapped, but, regrettably, from there onwards, being slapped became so regular that it was part of my routine. Over time, I brought myself to forgive my father and mother, because why would anyone want me as a burden in their life?