Eurivin's POV
The manager of the convenience store let me go off early today since I ended up working for almost 30 minutes yesterday. It was a great experience to have a kind superior.
I was having a peaceful walk when some strange man approached me and said he wanted to be friends with me. I laughed at him so hard and maybe, even rude at him. I had no intention of being friendly to a stranger, but I wasn’t that harsh, right? He even gave me back the wallet I dropped before. Maybe I was too harsh.
After I rejected the strange man, I had decided to take a roundabout instead of going home straight since I had 30 more minutes to spare. I made up my mind to get a girlfriend to introduce to my father. It was my last resort and I was hoping he would accept me even just a bit. I thought that if I got a girlfriend, then he would think of me as a boy.
There was no luck in me finding a girlfriend, everyone that I approached they were either in a relationship already or aggressive. I encountered a girl who seemed to have a thing for me, she suddenly put her hands at the back of my neck and started kissing me. I was surprised at that moment that I froze, but when I snapped out, I pushed her away and said that I didn’t want a relationship like that. I told her that I only wanted a platonic relationship, and then she cursed at me and slapped me in the face.
I never intended to have an intimate relationship with girls or even have romantic feelings for them. Living as a boy all my life was enough, I didn’t need to pretend that I liked girls in that way.
After my failed plan, I went back home and changed into a sweater and shorts. My bruises on the back of my legs were now gone, so I was free to use them, but I wasn’t able to wear a t-shirt since I still had bruises on my arms.
My dad wasn’t home yet, but he would be soon. I reheated the pork stew that I had cooked in the morning and did some cleaning in our small house. Our house had one room, which was used by my father, and also a bathroom next to it. The kitchen, dining area, and living room were in the same space. We didn’t have much stuff so it was big enough for the two of us, besides, I was sleeping on the couch, all my life since mom died.
When mom died, we left our old house, which was big enough to be called a mansion. My dad bought it but couldn’t pay off the mortgage, so it ended up seized by the bank, and so, we moved here.
Our house was located in an area where people rarely passed. It was quiet and each of our neighbors had their own world, minding only their business, so even if they heard some thuds and crashing sound that my father had caused, they wouldn't even care.
Several minutes later, someone was pounding the door heavily.
It must be dad.
I hurriedly headed to the door, but as soon as I opened it, my dad's fist hit my nose as if I was the door. Fortunately, it didn’t bleed. My father came in and the smell of alcohol blended in the air. He took off his coat, tie, and tossed them on the floor, including his leather briefcase — there must be no laptop in it since it was light when I picked it up. I placed his bag in his room, while his coat and tie, on the hanger stand. I was about to come out of the room when my dad started cursing, so I stayed in the room and gently closed the door.
“That bitch! Who does she think she is? She's just the CEO because she's the legitimate child! I'm a Johnson, too! Fuck! This is all that little piece of shit's fault!” he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the house.
He was blaming me again.
“Where are you?! Come out before I break all the stuff here!”
I opened the door and let myself appear in front of him. I knew it was dangerous, given the state of his emotions, so I prepared myself for another beating. My dad stood up staggeringly and glared at me. I looked down and didn’t dare to look him in the eyes.
“It’s all your fault!” he yelled and then a sudden blow hit my face. I tasted blood in my mouth and suspected that there was a cut on my lower lip. As I wiped it off with my thumb, I saw blood and before I could wipe it again, I had been slapped on the other side of my face.
Here we are again.
My father lost his balance and dropped sideways because of drunkenness. I tried to help him up but he pushed me instead. He climbed up to the couch and glanced to the side, and then looked around the house as if he was searching for something.
“Where the hell is the lamp?” he asked.
“It was shattered when you threw it yesterday,” I answered.
“You should've replaced it, dammit! I have nothing to throw!” he said, and then shoved the things on the center table in my way. The vase was shattered to pieces and my phone's screen cracked.
“Why are you even alive?” he said, breathing heavily as the tears fell on his face. “Theressa died because of you! You should've been the one who died! My life is miserable because of you!”
My heart ached when he mentioned my mother's name. It was my fault she died. It was my fault that she took her own life. The scene from 17 years ago kept repeating in my head. It was hard to breathe, I tried to control my emotions but the tears wouldn’t just stop falling. I bit my lip to stop it from trembling. I took deliberate, deep breaths trying to slow down the beating of my heart, and when I stabilized my emotions, I replied to my father.
“I’m sorry, dad. I know it was my fault that mom took her life, but it was not my fault that I was born a girl!”
My dad stood up, he was now sober. “What did you say? You, piece of shit, you now got the guts to talk back to me! Let's see how far your guts can take this.”
He took off his leather belt, rolled it to his hand, and began to pull from each end as if he was testing it if it was sturdy. As he walked towards me, the shattered pieces of the vase crackled, and then he purposely stepped on my phone. He laughed mockingly and said, “Now, show me what you've got.”
He motioned me to turn to the side, and I did. It was a punishment that I was willing to take. My retribution for killing mom. I took his beating, and each time the belt hit the back of my leg and thighs, the harder he struck, the louder the sound it got against my skin. I bit my lip as I winced in pain. I regretted wearing shorts instead of pants.
My father finally stopped when I dropped to my knees, palms on the floor. I felt something stuck in my palms and knees, and when I lifted them, blood spilled, I fell to some shattered pieces of the vase. I tried my best to stand but I failed, my legs felt like jelly. I couldn’t stand without any support. I crawled towards the chair in the dining area and helped myself up.
My father was now sitting on the couch, his back leaning on it. He smirked at me and said, “That was great! You held up impressively, as always. Now, clean this mess.”
Still holding the chair for support, I nodded. “Yes, dad.”
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I left the house around 8:30 PM when my dad was asleep. I decided to continue my plan and get a girlfriend as soon as possible. I changed into pants, gave myself first aid, and put on some concealer to cover the bruises that had formed on my face.
I turned to the opposite way I took earlier, which was left coming from work, and now, it was still on the left, but this time I was coming from our house. As I walked along the streets, I noticed that the place was completely different compared to the other one. There were lots of restaurants and different kinds of shops and stores, while the other way, there were only houses. It was my first in a long time to go to other places aside from home and work.
As I continued to wander, I passed the Japanese restaurant that had a long queue which made me think that their food must be extraordinarily good. I let my eyes roam around but I still couldn’t find someone who could get my attention. Where can I find a girlfriend?
After 10 minutes of searching, I finally found my target whom I thought was pretty. She was standing in front of a bookstore, facing her phone. She had curly brown hair that was combed neatly, she had long eyelashes, a small nose, and small lips. She was wearing a white off-shoulder top and a brown fitted skirt that was a few inches long above her knee.
I wish I could wear that, too. I disregarded the thought and planned how I would approach her. She was busy with her phone.
Could she be waiting for someone?
I shook my head to convince myself not to think of any negativities. I took a deep breath and walked towards her. I cleared my throat as I put my hands in my jeans' pockets. “Excuse me, miss.”
The girl turned her attention to me and as soon as she saw me, her brown eyes widened and said, “Oh my gosh!” almost inaudible.
“I was walking around and saw you, and I thought you were pretty, would you mind if I ask for your number?” I asked awkwardly.
What am I doing? Does she think that I'm creepy now?
“You’re handsome, but I'm sorry. I already have a boyfriend. I am waiting for him and he's on his way right now,” she replied, looking regretful. That only meant that I had a chance if only she wasn’t taken.
What should I do? My plan might be impossible. I even shaved off a section on my left brow to mimic eyebrow slits. Is it not working at all?
My legs were starting to hurt, I didn’t recover yet from the beating I got from my father. I was starting to walk much slower and slower until I started limping.
Should I just give up?
When the thought of giving up came to my mind, a goddess-like beauty approached me. “Uh, excuse me. Are you okay? Do you need help?”