The Hide and Seek Game That Lasted a Lifetime novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My mother gave birth to me a year after she was brutally attacked by the school bully. From that moment on, I became the black sheep of the family, regarded as nothing more than a curse that darkened their lives.

On my eighth birthday, my mother—who had always kept me hidden away—finally took me outside for the very first time. We found ourselves high up on a mountain ridge, where the air was crisp and the wind whispered through the trees. There, she proposed a game of hide-and-seek.

“If you find me, you’ll get a reward,” she said, her voice laced with a strange mixture of challenge and coldness. “But if you don’t, you can’t come home.”

My heart raced with excitement and anxiety as I covered my eyes tightly with my hands, silently counting. Mom was an expert at hiding. I searched every nook and cranny I could imagine, but she was nowhere to be found.

As the sun dipped lower, shadows lengthening and the sky darkening, I stumbled repeatedly over rocks and roots, my knees scraped raw and my arms covered in bruises. Exhausted and defeated, I finally made my way back to the house, tears streaming down my face as I knocked desperately on the door.

“Mom, you’re gone!” I cried out.

The door creaked open just a crack, and I caught a glimpse of her pale face peering through, her eyes cold and distant, as if I were a stranger to her.

My tears slowed, replaced by a timid smile. “Mom,” I whispered softly.

But her reaction was sudden and violent. She slapped me hard across the cheek.

“You little bastard! Why didn’t you just die up on that mountain? I told you not to come back!” Her voice was sharp and filled with hatred.

Fear overwhelmed me. I lowered my head and hesitated, my foot frozen mid-step.

“Mom, I don’t want the reward anymore,” I murmured, my voice trembling.

“The reward? You dare talk about the reward?” she shrieked, her fury boiling over as she lunged at me, yanking my hair with a vicious grip.

Pain exploded where clumps of hair were torn from my scalp. I wanted to run away, but some deep instinct made me cling to her instead.

“Mom, it hurts,” I whimpered.

Suddenly, the door swung open wider, and my father appeared, his face unreadable and emotionless.

“Since she’s back, she can stay for now,” he said coldly. “We’ll deal with everything later.”

He took my mother’s hand and led her inside, never once glancing in my direction. I hurried after them, frantically wiping the blood from my scraped arm, desperate not to lose sight of them.

Just as I reached out with trembling fingers, the door slammed shut with a harsh bang, trapping and crushing my fingers in the frame.

A scream tore from my throat, and tears spilled uncontrollably once again.

From the window, my brother Liam Miller looked down on me with a cruel, disdainful expression. His handsome face twisted with scorn.

“Bastard. If you make Mom angry again, next time it’ll be your neck that gets slammed,” he sneered.

The words stabbed deep, a sharp, aching pain in my chest.

I wanted to shout, to demand why he could be so cruel.

But eight years of suffering had taught me that angering anyone in the family meant going to bed hungry and alone.

So I lowered my head and whispered softly, “Liam, can you let me in now?”

He snorted, clutching his stuffed toy tighter, stepping back. When his eyes landed on my filthy, torn clothes, his face twisted in disgust.

“You’re disgusting! What mud puddle did you crawl out of? Don’t you dare dirty the floor!” he spat.

I nodded quickly, moving cautiously, trying my best not to touch or soil anything.

“Follow me,” he said.

Outside, at the edge of the yard, stood an old, neglected kennel.

Dad pointed inside. “You’ll sleep here from now on. Don’t set foot inside the villa without permission.”

I nodded dumbly and peered into the dark, cramped space.

Years of neglect had left it smelling foul and stale, a harsh, bitter stench that hit me like a wave.

It was worse than the storage room.

Dad said nothing more and began to walk away.

“Dad, wait,” I called instinctively, reaching out to grab the hem of his shirt.

But before I could touch him, a sudden, overwhelming force shoved me to the ground.

Dad frowned slightly, his gaze flickering almost imperceptibly to the spot on his shirt I had almost reached.

“Speak,” he demanded coldly.

It felt like being struck by lightning. A sudden, painful understanding settled over me—feelings far too complex for my young mind.

I think… I understood.

“It’s nothing. Dad… I’ll be good.”