Chapter 2

My name is Hymen.

My older brother's name is Lucas.

No doubt about it, we're biological brothers.

An old fortune teller once told my parents that I had a difficult fate and shouldn't be raised by them. So, they sent me away to live with my distant grandparents in a remote town.

All those years, they barely visited me.

They only brought me back after my grandparents passed away.

I came home filled with hope, but I quickly realized this house wasn't for me.

The day I was kidnapped, Lucas insisted on taking a deserted alley.

After a few steps, he claimed he needed to find a restroom and told me to wait right there for him.

After that, I lost consciousness.

I'll never forget those memories.

"Damn it, a worthless piece of trash."

The kidnapper's fists landed on me, blow after blow, venting their rage.

They had mistaken me for Lucas, they had kidnapped the wrong person.

My family refused to pay my ransom, so they wouldn't get a single dime.

I was starved for three days, tortured for three days.

My throat was raw, I couldn't even scream anymore.

When the police burst in, the kidnappers were about to strip me.

Blood blurred my vision, but I still strained to open my eyes, looking behind them.

No one.

No one from my family had come.

I wanted to cry, but no tears would fall.

The doctor said I had Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, manifesting as a loss of emotions, medically known as emotional apathy.

The hospital room was empty. After the investigating police officers left, no one else came.

At the dinner table, they treated me like I was invisible. The three of them chatted and laughed, a picture of a happy family.

In the past, I would always try to join their conversations, but today I did nothing.

"I'm finished."

I casually grabbed a napkin from the table to wipe my hands.

"Which room am I staying in?"

Mrs. Davis paused, then collected herself.

"The other rooms haven't been tidied up yet."

Lucas interjected,

"Hymen, don't blame Mom and Dad. They've been so busy with everything lately, they just can't keep up."

He sounded like he was protecting our parents, but he was really hinting that I was being inconsiderate – something he'd done countless times.

I simply asked,

"Did I say I blamed them?"

I gently put down the napkin, my voice flat.

"Then I'll just pick an unoccupied room. You all enjoy your dinner."

I slowly walked upstairs, their voices drifting up to me.

"Who did he inherit that prickly attitude from? Don't take it to heart. Come on, Lucas, you haven't had any of my special stew yet!"

Lucas's voice was calm, "My brother might just be scared."

Mrs. Davis disagreed, "What's he scared about? He's back home safe and sound, isn't he?"

I closed my bedroom door, shutting out their conversation.