ch-4: an argument over removing the balcony

The bottle of milk slipped from her hands and hit the floor with a soft thud.

“Lorie, my baby!” my mother screamed as she rushed forward, panic all over her face. She grabbed me tightly, checking me from head to toe, as if making sure I was still in one piece.

Without even glancing at the dead body, she sprinted away from the scene, hugging me protectively to her chest. Her steps were shaky, but she didn’t stop. When she finally did, we were far away from my room.

Her arms were trembling.

I looked up at her face—it was pale, filled with fear. Fear of losing me.

Before I could process more, I found myself sitting in a large office surrounded by my family. My father, mother, and two older brothers. And they were all… fighting.

Again.

“Remove the balcony!” Mother snapped. “I don’t care what it takes—take it down! No one’s getting near Lorie again.”

My father tried to calm her. “Honey, listen… I know how you feel. But we can’t do construction so suddenly. It might weaken the upper floors—”

“Then we’ll put 50 guards outside her room!” my eldest brother shouted.

“Yeah, even 100 if needed!” the younger one added, his fists clenched.

I sat there on my mother’s lap, surrounded by shouting voices and angry faces. All for me.

Thankfully they were so concerned that no one even thought how the assasin had died.

They were all worried. All trying to protect me.

But honestly?

It was getting annoying.

Love? Affection? Protection?

I still thought it was all dumb. Annoying. Unnecessary. I didn’t ask for this kind of attention.

I couldn’t take their noise anymore. So I did the only thing I could do.

I cried.

Loudly.

All of them froze.

The room went completely silent.

My mother rocked me gently. “Shh… It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry.”

My father knelt in front of me, worried. “Lorie, are you hurt? Did we scare you?”

“She probably felt the negative energy from our fights” my oldest brother muttered guiltily.

“See what we did?” the other whispered.

They immediately started comforting me. My mom kissed my forehead again and again. My dad gently brushed my hair. My brothers leaned over and pinched my chubby cheeks with concerned look in their eyes.

“We weren’t fighting, baby,” my mom cooed. “We were just… talking, that’s all.”

Yeah, right. As if a baby could even understand your excuses. I thought bitterly.

Their smiles returned as they tried to cheer me up. I was surrounded by hugs, kisses, and baby talk.

For a normal baby, maybe it would’ve been the happiest moment ever.

But for me?

It was just yuck ..

Their kisses and their voices were too sweet, and their love too loud for me. Well, what can you even expect from a person whose belief in the so called thing 'love" had died when she was a mere 13 years old. Maybe it was because I had emotionally and physically distanced myself from everyone and everything for 10 whole years that I found it all pretty annoying.

I just wanted peace.

Not this love-filled chaos.

But still… somewhere deep in my cold heart, I wondered—

What exactly am I trying to protect, if not this.I guess it would be fun to see how long their 'love' lasts.

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