What I think of you pt. 4
From the very beginning, she knew she was different, from the moment of conception, a seed of cruelty had been planted in her mind, a seed that would only grow with time.
Yoshiko was living a life that could nicely be described as "interesting" and less nicely described as an absolute dumpster fire from the beginning, and most likely unto the end.
Born to a mother unknown both to her and any government agency, and a father whose existence was only confirmed by the basic laws of reproduction.
Yoshiko grew up as an orphan, alone in the world, in the squalor of a communal orphanage, born unusually pale, with near snow-white skin, and features that could be considered sharp, even from a young age.
Any normal child would have harbored issues, due to the joys of growing up as a public ward. But Yoshiko was different, she was born with a seed of cruelty, cruelty bloomed freely and unrestrained in Yoshiko's mind, watered by isolation and jeers of her peers, beyond what should have been considered normal, this would be the first gift she would unknowingly receive from her father.
Eventually, she was adopted into a relatively normal family, and had a relatively normal childhood for a few years, until age 14, when the family fell upon hard economic times, her adopted parents grew cold and angry, and began to treat each other, and Yoshiko herself with increasing hostility, externalizing their growing sense of self-loathing and disappointment unto her. The seed that had been growing inside her blossomed, and she grew isolated as her few, already strained friendships broke under her own growing spite, she wasn't the sort to play nice, she was the sort to break others toys and laugh.
Eventually, her foster family would split up, and she'd be back as a public ward. She didn't really remember the time she had spent with them, but it left its scars.
It was the second family that would come to define her, this family was... if she had to put it simply, these people should never have been able to adopt a child, the household was a wreck, they adopted her out of a misplaced sense of obligation, nothing more, she didn't think either of them liked children.
Her newfound mother was proud, boisterous and domineering, with a clear spite for everyone around her, she treated Yoshiko like a burden she was forced to carry, and made this belief very well known, Yoshiko initially responded with her own spite and hostility, but the singe of pain she felt against her cheek every time she tried to talk back to this woman eventually taught her the merits of silence, the hatred and enforced silence would nurture her cruelty.
Her newfound father was a cruel and stupid coward, through and through. He was often silent around his wife; it would seem he feared her wrath much the same as Yoshiko did. She afforded him a begrudging respect for his survival instinct there, and his scheming minds tendency to look for any advantage he could gleam, unfortunately for many, this man would in many ways become her role-model.
Why these two shitbags married, she would never know.
But after some time passed and she got used to her new household, Yoshiko saw something that would come to define the rest of her life.
Her newfound "mother" was a lightweight as far as alcohol was concerned, she hardly ever drank, and Yoshiko had only ever seen her drink of her own accord twice.
But by the time Yoshiko was 18, and making preparations to move out, her father had made a discovery of sorts.
He would supply his wife with alcohol, sometimes knowingly, sometimes covertly, until she could barely think, and once she was out of it, he'd lay into her, fucking her wildly and brutally while he did so, his wails and grunts resounding through-out the house.
Initially this made Yoshiko incredibly uncomfortable. She'd hear her father's words of spite and hatred as he berated his wife and took out his frustrations, deserved or otherwise on her pickled brain, while screaming "take my dick you slut" or some other uncreative insult.
Initially, Yoshiko found this disturbing, but with time, it came to fascinate her, the mental image of her proud, larger-than-life mother, reduced to a wreck, incapable of speech more complicated than "I sorry." and "your dick feels good" was... intoxicating.
She found herself obsessed with the idea of watching this proud asshole reduced to a sobbing wreck, and she began to extend this degrading fascination to the other women in her life, she dreamt of the cartel of popular girls that mocked her being drunk out of their minds, taking dicks from some of the ugliest guys in school.
Yoshiko quickly found herself a fetish, obsessed with degradation and control, a pervert in every sense of the word, initially barely able to restrain herself, openly gawking at the women in her life, dreaming of them blank-faced and pliable. This in turn only made her weirder, and more isolated.
The internet only fed this obsession, soon, it grew beyond wanting to see them drunk and malleable, and fed into an extreme degradation obsession, she found herself exposed to other sources of control, some completely fictional, and others a bit more plausible, drugs, torture, hypnosis, training, all the twisted forms of control possible.
Then, at age 19 and just days before she moved out of her adoptive family's home into a small, substandard apartment, she found something interesting. For the first time, she was allowed to consume alcohol at home. Of course, she had alcohol outside of her home, but she had been deliberate in her effort to avoid getting drunk. Finally, she had the opportunity to experience the same blackout state as her mother had, and she wanted to know that sensation.
As the drink passed her lips, she felt a feeling of wooziness, of intoxication, and then... it receded, as if it were pulled away from her. She slammed down another, same result, another, another, another. Her mind felt clear, this couldn't possibly be normal, something had to be wrong.
Vodka, Whiskey, Beer, Moonshine... it all did nothing, no matter the source, no matter the quantity, it had no impact, her intoxication passed, ripped away from her by some unknown force, finally, at end of another fruitless drinking binge, she finally received answers.
A voice, tinged in cruelty resounded in her mind, like claws on a chalkboard, given sound and meaning:
"
Child... Daughter... Unwanted... Trying to drown your sorrows? Or are you trying to find happiness in a bottle? kehehe..."
"What the fuck is this... are you... why are you in my head? Daughter? Is this what being drunk is?"
"
