It's been six months since I was born, and Mommy has taken care of me. The last two months have been the worst — I've started remembering more things, but everything's extremely fragmented.
And Mommy has been making me more and more wicked while hurting me more and more, steering me down wrong paths. I can't take this hellish training routine anymore.
The beatings, the horrible wounds I get, the magic drills that leave me full of aches, dizzy, and nauseous — and the worst is the hunger.
I barely get any food now. In the past, she gave me her milk. Now, I have to hunt for my own food, and she always throws me into rooms with dangerous monsters where I'm forced into life-or-death battles just to eat.
The affection has dwindled too, because now I'm never good enough. Nothing I do is ever enough, so even the motivation to seek love has cooled, killed by all this cruelty with nothing to show for it.
"..."
