My Adopted Family

Take the elevator and go down.

 

The time displayed on the smartphone was 11:30 PM.

 

The destination convenience store is located within an apartment complex, so I can get there quickly.

 

It's just a little annoying.

 

I took care of my mother, then massaged my little sister's legs, and now I am running errands for my older sister.

 

It's my everyday life.

 

If you ask me if I am dissatisfied, I am not.

 

After going through the apartment's common entrance, I turned my head and looked up at the apartment towering high up in the sky.

 

Even now, sometimes I wonder if I'm dreaming.

 

I'm still being abused by my old parents, and while I'm briefly unconscious, I'm dreaming.

 

And when you wake up, your life of abuse continues again.

 

Sometimes I imagine that.

 

Okay. I was a child abused by my biological parents until I was 6 years old.

 

My biological parents were truly human trash.

 

To vent their anger, sadness and frustration, they hit, kicked, stepped on, drowned, and starved a child who doesn't know anything.

 

Then, this incident came to light when my teacher, who was surprised to see me urinating blood at daycare, took me to the hospital.

 

Child abuse.

 

My ribs were broken, and my internal organs were severely damaged.

When I took off my clothes, others saw bruises all over my body, and cigarette burn marks were clearly visible on my back.

 

My parents made excuses, but anyone could see that it was child abuse.

 

If I cried in pain, they put my head in the water.

 

If I didn't smile in front of others, I would starve.

 

I grew up until I was 6 years old with that kind of life.

 

When this matter became known to the authorities, my biological parents were arrested.

 

After receiving treatment at the hospital, I was sent to a shelter for abused children.

 

And there I met my stepmom.

 

Now that I'm an adult, I know how lucky I am.

 

Even though I was abused when I was young, I am doing well with my new family.

 

They treated me like a real family even though I wasn't related to them by blood.

 

It's not like they pay more attention to abused children or anything like that. They treat me like I'm a real son, like a real younger brother and older brother.

 

This is the kind of family that makes me do troublesome errands, play pranks, and hit them, or they hit me if we get angry over something, argue, and act cold. It's family that I would sacrifice everything or do anything to keep it.

 

But do I consider that family like a real family?

 

This isn't the first time I've felt sexual desires toward my current family.

 

This impulse has continued since my adolescence in middle school.

 

I know this is wrong.

 

I even tried to fix it.

 

I forced myself to make a girlfriend.

 

But it didn't work.

 

The more I try to suppress it, the stronger the urge becomes.

 

My family was all celebrities, so I couldn't consult anyone.

 

As a result, a trash person was born who lusts after his family even after the age of 20.

 

"In the end, I guess I'm a trash son of trash parents."

 

Even if the family changes, the blood does not change.

 

The blood of my trash parents still flowed inside me.