Constantly shifting my alliances between my parents had grown monotonous. One expected me to be the dutiful son and carry out his evil schemes. The other wanted me to do the right thing despite the fact no one in her family ever did. The major difference between my mother and father? One loved me while the other played me like a fucking fiddle.
I was tired of the male using me for his own purposes. He failed to understand that Grandmother Tavi’s tinkering did more than advance my maturation. She enhanced my mind, giving me the ability to see more and do more than my pathetic father. Those who knew my situation mistook me as a child trapped in an adult body. I was far from it. Nothing about me was boyish.
In time, Father would discover the truth, but it would be too late. He’d grovel and then take orders from me. I’d no longer be the slave he crafted in his own image.
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