. . .
Trila, Theales. Year 2561 (40 years ago).
Darian Vaughan was born inside a bathtub in a ragged house on the outskirts of Trila.
A man barged into the bathroom, where a woman was panting heavily and half submerged in water. They were his mother and his father.
The man, who had no hair, dark red eyes, and a burly physique, slammed his fist on the sink counter, causing the impact to reverberate across the bathroom. His devilish gaze locked on to the woman and the crying baby.
"You fiend! You always have to make a fight! I just gave birth to your devil child. Give me a break!" The lady screamed at the enraged man.
In the background, Darian, who had just been born, was wailing. The man stomped his feet and walked towards the bathtub. "Make the baby shut its mouth before I do." His threats were calm but deadly.
The woman's face was red as she shouted at the top of her lungs. "Get out!" He did eventually comply, but of course, he didn't leave without making his mark.
. . .
Trila, Theales. Year 2576 (25 years ago).
Now 15 years old, Darian was used to the state of mind his mother was constantly in. The walls of their home were moldy, the floor creaked and caved, and the water was contaminated.
Darian was in his room, quietly counting his fingers. The boredom was so severe at his home that counting fingers was the best form of entertainment. On the back of his head, there was a red mark. It read, "Loser!" Scratching it, he felt his eyelids droop.
It wasn't until the door was slammed open that he twitched fully awake. "Y-You rat! You useless, no good, waste of money rat!" His mother wobbled across the floor of his room. Darian did not reply; he only nodded his head. He noticed that it was the most effective method to get her to leave.
Contrary to his beliefs, she did not leave this time. Instead, she pulled out a paper from her back pocket and flashed a wicked grin. "Mama has a new job. Far, far away from you." It was simple what she meant: today was the last day she would ever see her son.
Darian's eyes were lifeless as he nodded.
"Alright."
. . .
Trila, Theales. Year 2576 (25 years ago).
"How may I help you?" A lady at a receptionist's desk looked up from her stack of papers to lock eyes with Darian.
Her brows furrowed. "How old are you?" She questioned, interrupting him before he could speak. "15 years old," Darian responded quietly. The lady, who wore her brown hair in a bun and was clearly out of shape, sighed. "Boy, this is an orphanage. Are you sure you're in the right place?"
"Yes." Replying calmly, Darian tried not to break out of character. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. He often noticed how classmates and kids alike had parents who were excited to see them.
Do my parents hate me? He would wonder. Sometimes, he even apologized to his mother, thinking that the reason she was angry all this time was because of him. However, the reaction he got back was ugly and disheartening, so he gave up on that strategy.
The lady's expression softened, realizing he wasn't lying. She frantically gathered papers that were scattered around her u-shaped desk and replied. "Alright. Give me one moment, and we'll get a room set up for you. I am so sorry." Darian rubbed the back of his head and exhaled.
"Yeah,"
. . .
Trila, Theales, Year 2579 (22 years ago)
"Alright, Mr. Darian Vaughan." Two men walked into Darian's orphanage room with still expressions. The one on the left, who had a bald spot and wore crooked glasses, began. "Now that you are 18 years old, you cannot stay at this orphanage anymore."
The other man, who had a soft grey beard and a mustache, fiercely seized Darian's little belongings and threw them out of the door. "Out," he ordered, to which Darian followed immediately.
On the streets, Darian found a spot where he could beg for money in peace. In the other spots, he would often get harassed or hurt. He knelt and counted his money, 33 Qunats... Not even enough to buy some water.
In Theales, the currencies used are the Dinar and the Qunat. For every one Dinar, it is equal to 100 Qunats.
He felt tears begin to swell in his eyes, and while sobbing and wiping the fluid sliding down his face, he cried out. "I hate myself." It was not uncommon for Darian to loathe himself. Every time his mother had a temper tantrum, he would bang his head against the rotting bed frame and curse himself. He had always thought he was the root cause of his mother's anger, and hated himself for it.
"Um, excuse me." A delightful voice echoed in his ear. All he could see was her gorgeous black hair that cascaded past perfect shoulders. His eyes were blinded by the insurmountable beauty she radiated.
Her delicate hand placed a small 5 Dinar bill in his ragged, soiled palm.
"This is some extra money I had..." She bent down slightly and met him face-to-face. Her mesmerizing, ethereal eyes locked onto his. "T-Thank you." Darian couldn't help but break out into a warm, innocent smile.
Just as he did, the girl's expression froze as her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. Darian's eyebrow twitched. What's wrong…? He gazed at her face, which was now beet-red.
While there could be a multitude of reasons as to why she froze at that moment, the real reason was simple:
Love.
. . .
Present day, Trila Municipal Hospital.
He rested his face on her palm and tried to smile. The bedsheets were stained with his non-stop tears. "Why couldn't it be me? I-I wish it were me!"
He couldn't help crying into her hand.
Darian! What did I tell you about putting yourself down? It was her — he could hear her in his mind. She was holding baby Emory in her hands and looked at Darian in disappointment.
He couldn't help but cry harder. Elara's expression softened as she sat beside him. She placed Emory in Darian's lap.
You're going to be such a good father, I know it. Don't worry, I'll be here. Whenever you need me, I'll always be looking at you. Just don't forget about me, okay?
"O-Okay..." He replied to the woman in his mind with a somber tone.
"Mr. Vaughan."
A nurse's cold tone woke Darian up. He quickly tried to rub his eyes and hide the tears.
"Y-yes?" She was holding a cooing child; it was Emory.
"Here is your child. You will be able to take him home today. Please have everything prepared before exiting the hospital. We shall take care of the woman's body. Please select a date for the funeral on the way out."
"O-okay..."
He took Emory into his arms, his face surprised at the fact babies weighed almost nothing. He felt something grab his finger. Looking down, he saw the baby's expression. The baby stared at Darian with a strangely still expression — as if analyzing his face.
"Emory..."
Doing everything possible not to cry at that moment, Darian grabbed everything he needed and exited the hospital that day.
Elara's funeral was going to be in two weeks.