Life Beyond Constraints

Chapter 1

The year I met Waylon, I was covered in wounds.

He held an umbrella over me, shielding me within the curve of his arm.

At that time, I had no idea that he was also bleeding behind his calm exterior.

My name is Stella, a name chosen without much thought or care.

Just like my birth, it was random and unplanned.

My dad was a gambler, and my mom was a prostitute.

I never understood why two such mismatched people would live under the same roof.

But without a doubt, both of them were terrible people.

Ever since I could remember, my mom would stand at the alley's entrance, wearing heavy makeup, smoking a cigarette.

When a man approached, she would take him upstairs. Thirty minutes later, the man would leave.

On busy days, this happened two or three times a day. On slow days, no one came for several days.

As for my dad, he was lazy all day and never held a proper job.

He had a gambling addiction. Whenever he had money, he would gamble it away. When he lost, he would drink and then beat me.

He never hit my mom. To him, she was like a stranger living in the same house, completely separate from him.

And I became the only target for his anger.

When I was six, he lost a lot of money at the casino. After being away for half a month, he came home reeking of alcohol and found me.

"You little brat, it's all your fault I have bad luck. I should have kicked you to death when you were born."

"Damn it, if it weren't for you, I would have been rich by now."

"You're the reason I'm stuck here, you jinx. You've ruined my chances of making it big."

"You're just like your mother, a worthless whore. No one would want you even if you tried to sell yourself."

His hand, larger than my face, slapped me hard. After a burst of pain, my ears rang, and then there was silence.

He yanked my hair back roughly, making my face swell with each slap, then tried to pin me to the ground to kick me.

Curled up on the floor, I didn't move. Blood, snot, and tears mixed together, pooling on the ground. I thought I was going to die, but unfortunately, I didn't.

Every time I was beaten, my mom watched coldly. She looked at me with disgust in her eyes.

Of course, she wished I would be beaten to death.

In her eyes, I shouldn't have been born. I was her disgrace.

Yet, every time after I was beaten, she would approach me with a cold expression and roughly apply alcohol to my wounds.

I would grimace in pain, and only then would she show a hint of a smile.

Did she love me?

I don't think so.

She just enjoyed the sound of my heart-wrenching cries when the alcohol touched my wounds. It gave her a sense of revenge.

But if they didn't like me, why did they give birth to me in the first place?

Later, I learned to be cautious at home, to flatter and please them.

I tried hard to win their favor just to get something to eat.

But even though I acted like a submissive stray dog, my life didn't improve much.

I was still like an abandoned child; they never cared whether I lived or died.

They never fed me, leaving me to fend for myself.

If it weren't for Thalia, the neighbor who took pity on me and gave me food, I would have starved.

I asked Thalia, "Am I really that annoying? Why don't my parents like me?"

Thalia rubbed a boiled egg over my bruised eyes and said, "Stella, you're a good girl. It's your parents who are too blind to see it."

Thalia told me that my dad's behavior was domestic violence and that I could call the police.

The police would come to protect me.

I believed Thalia without question.

So, the next time my drunken dad beat me, I dragged my battered body to the police station and reported him.

The police arrested my father.

Chapter 2

I smiled, thinking the kind police officer had really come to help me.

But, a few days later, he was released. My injuries weren't severe enough to keep him in jail.

When he came back, all the pent-up anger from those days was unleashed on me, and I was beaten even more brutally.

I was beaten until my bones fractured, my ears rang, and I spat blood.

That time, I lay in bed, barely clinging to life for a month, only recovering under Thalia's care.

Thalia pitied me and was heartbroken. She went to confront my parents, questioning why they treated me this way.

But to them, Thalia was just an old woman meddling in their business. They called me a worthless child, saying they could do whatever they wanted with their own child, and no one else had a say.

Thalia had no choice but to hold me, crying and heartbroken.

"Stella, my poor Stella, grow up quickly. When you do, leave this place and never come back."

Thalia tied a red string around my wrist, saying it would protect me.

She told me that beyond the mountains, there was a sparkling blue sea that could wash away all my sorrows.

I asked Thalia, "When I get there, will I stop getting beaten? I'm afraid of the pain..."

Thalia said, "There, someone will love you. No one will beat you."

Thalia often spoke of her children, who were all successful and caring. They had taken her to many places in recent years.

I believed Thalia's words.

So, I began to hope... hope to grow up, hope to see that distant sea.

But my father's gambling losses grew, and so did the frequency of my beatings. His blows became heavier.

I became numb, unable to control it.

Each time I was beaten, I curled up on the ground, burying my head low, silently gritting my teeth.

I thought, hit me, hit me, it'll be over soon.

After the beating... a good sleep would make it better.

But he saw my silence as defiance and hit me even harder.

"You worthless girl, scream! Why aren't you screaming? Do you think you're better than me?"

"Damn brat, just as dirty as your mother!"

...

My life was a mess, but I still wanted to grasp that glimmer of light.

I wanted to see the blue sea Thalia spoke of.

It was this unrealistic fantasy that kept me barely alive.

I thought things couldn't get worse.

But after disappointment came despair.

When I was eight, he lost a lot of money at the casino, and they were pressing him for repayment.

If he couldn't pay, they would break his legs.

Desperate, he looked at me.

He bathed me, dressed me in a new pink dress, making me look pretty.

I thought my father had changed, but he was pushing me into an abyss.

That night, an old man came to our house, circling me with a malicious smile.

His eyes were filled with scrutiny, greed, and disgust.

I felt completely exposed and vulnerable, like an object on display, subjected to everyone's gaze.

The old man's hands roamed over me, making me feel like bugs crawling all over me, making me want to vomit.

I couldn't stop trembling. I wanted to escape, to leave this place.

But my body felt like it was filled with lead, my feet too heavy to lift.

The old man seemed satisfied and handed my father a stack of money.

"Five thousand in total, count it."

My father told me to go with the old man first, promising to bring me back after he won big at the casino.

It was the first time he spoke to me in a gentle tone, but all I felt was a deep, unsettling cold.

As the old man approached me, tears fell from my eyes, one after another.

I backed away in fear, looking at my father with pleading eyes.

Chapter 3

"I won't go, Dad, I won't go... Please, I'm scared, I'll be good from now on... Please..."

But my pleas fell on deaf ears. The old man picked me up and carried me towards the door.

Dad's eyes were fixed on the wad of cash in his hand. Mom came down from upstairs, her face cold and indifferent as she watched me being taken away.

I felt