End of Past — Part One
I had just come back from school.
But did it even matter anymore?
The pressure of studying was too much. Far more than anyone else seemed to carry. I did my private teacher's homework even at school, and the moment I got home—I studied again.
In her eyes, I was a perfect student.
The one who always knew the answers.
Maybe it was because of her effort.
…Or was it mine?
I skipped breakfast and sat down to study.
These days, I didn't talk much with my family.
I didn't feel like it.
I was scared.
Not of punishment—
but of saying something wrong.
Of triggering chaos.
It wasn't like I never burned out.
I did.
I cried.
I tried to tell them I didn't want to study like this anymore.
I did things I shouldn't have.
I felt trapped.
Caged.
And when results came out—and they were good—
all the credit went to my teacher.
I never understood why.
I was the one who processed the lessons.
The one who memorized.
The one who wrote.
Later, I would realize…
Life was much better back then.
Even today, the teacher yelled at me.
But I won't make her a villain.
She was a good person.
I shared things with her—things I couldn't tell my own family.
And later… I realized she was the only mentor I truly had.
Better than being completely alone… like I would be in the future.
But none of that erased the pressure.
Or the strange carelessness of my parents.
Olivia had been complaining about pain for days now.
"It hurts again…" she hissed, pressing under her chest.
"Did you tell Dad?" I asked.
"I did. What's the point?" she replied bitterly. "It's not like he cares. He'll just bring some random medicine."
I stayed quiet.
"I feel like something is wrong… inside my body," she whispered. "My instincts are telling me something's not right."
A cold feeling crept into my chest.
"What do you mean…?"
"I don't know… but something's wrong." She winced again.
"Dad should take this seriously. Did you tell Mom?"
"I did," she said. Then her voice dropped.
"It's useless."
She looked at me—serious this time.
"Trust me, Reze… they're ignoring me now. But when it's too late… they'll understand I wasn't lying."
She was right.
The end of my twelfth year passed like that.
Slowly.Quietly.
I became quieter too.
When I turned thirteen, things got worse.
Mom and Dad argued over everything—small things, meaningless things. They spoke about each other behind their backs.
Mom tried.
Dad demanded.
And we…
We watched.
Is there any child who doesn't want to see their parents smiling together?
Laughing? Being happy?
We were no different.
The study pressure lessened a little in my thirteenth and fourteenth years.
But everything else grew heavier.
My bond with my teacher became stronger. I told her almost everything.
She listened.
Sometimes concerned.
Sometimes strangely amused.
At least she listened.
Mom often felt weak from not eating properly.
And Dad…
I don't know why, but it started to feel like he saw us as burdens.
Olivia changed too.
She became more aggressive.
Maybe she was tired.
Mom and Dad yelled at her constantly.
And she had no one to share it with.
"Don't share family problems with outsiders…
It makes you vulnerable."
Maybe that was true.
But I was just a child.
I couldn't hold everything inside.
So I shared it.
With my teacher.
Later, with a friend.
Because no one at home listened.
Not me.
Not Olivia.
Every day, Mom and Dad argued.
Home didn't feel like home anymore.
It felt like a place where four people lived—
No.
Four strangers.
Each minding their own lives.
I started forgetting what "family" even meant.
The word lost its meaning slowly… day by day.
It's like mixing clean water with polluted water…
Eventually, the clean water becomes polluted too.
My good memories—
My parents laughing,
feeding each other,
being happy—
They were drowning.
Consumed by everything that was happening now.
The past felt like a lie.
Like it was all just an act.
Or maybe…
I was too blind to see the truth back then.
Too young to understand.
And now—
Even that innocence was gone.
I used to think,
How could things get worse than this?
I didn't know.
I really didn't know.
Things were going to get worse.
Not just my family—
But me.
Everything…
Was going to fall apart.