Abuse. Something I would be familiar with. Both verbal and physical abuses. Something also that I would fight to prosecute when I became a working woman. Something so simple as slurs, or even a punch, can break someone's mentality, even leading to suicide. My Aunt was one of the victims of this. But abuse doesn't kill. It's another thing that kills. Something so simple, like abuse. Lurking in the shadows, ready to kill.

I was confused when meeting my new Korean Oppa. I know I say I'm a person of diversity. But something fell off. His motives were. Why would he suddenly show up in my and my Aunt's lives? What did he want from my Aunt? What did he want from me?

As a child, marriage is about falling in love. Like in the tales that my Aunt used to tell me. The tale of Cinderella, for example. A nobody who falls in love with a prince. Although a nobody, the prince still accepts her for who she was. The prince treated her like a human. Not a burden, not as an asset. The marriage I knew was because of love. Not because of family ties or wealth. These business marriages sickened me. My Aunt had to go through it.

It turns out that my mother's family, after cutting ties with me and my Aunt, forced my Aunt to come back. My Aunt thought they were ready to give support to us. But she was gravely mistaken. She shouldn't have come back to them. After coming back, she was just thrown into an engagement to a rich, spoiled b*stard. An heir to a powerful and rich Korean company. It was like my Aunt was just an asset to my family. An asset that had to be thrown away to merge the wealth of both families together. Someone that means the world to me can mean nothing to so many people.

I learned something so sinister at such a young age—the true face of this cruel, cruel world.

All of this information I got from my new "Oppa." Mr. Ji-Oh Bloodworth. The b*stard I was talking about. The American-Korean multi-billion company heir. My new, supposedly "father figure." But he never became my father figure. He became the rich uncle who loves you by only giving you money and lavish gifts while not caring about anything else about me. He gave duties that a father does to someone else. He thought little of me, or none at all.

Moving on, the days of kindergarten moved like an afternoon with tea and cookies. Sipping the tea slowly, enjoying and cherishing each bite of the cookie. Yet suddenly, it was over.

On the day of graduation, it was one hectic day. It was also the beginning of my long, never-ending suffering. It was all nice when it started. The opening act was a small play of "The Tortoise and the Hare." Victoria got the role of one of the main characters, the Hare, while I got the role of Audience Number One.

As the parents gathered, we were all ready for this heavily awaited show. The lights went dim, and slowly the curtains lifted. It all went smoothly—smoothly as a kindergarten kids' performance. Victoria and the other performers entered the stage, while I was wheeled into the stage. We were perfect, although there were a few minor hiccups. But other than that, our performance was fantastic.

I wheeled out of the scene because my part was done. I left the stage, listening to the current scene, eagerly waiting to get out and hug my Aunt once I was done. But suddenly, halfway through, a familiar yet unfamiliar voice shouted out of nowhere.

"GENE, WHERE THE H*LL ARE YOU?" someone screamed.

That was my Oppa's voice, and the name he was calling was my Aunt's name. The entire crowd and performance froze.

I wheeled back onto the stage, embarrassed. Everyone looked at me, surprised. I sharply looked at my Uncle. My Uncle looked at me, and we locked eyes. I could see in his eyes his hatred for me. I could also see in myself the eye I was making—the eye of hate.

"RHOA. WHERE'S YOUR S*UPID AUNT?" Oppa said.

I froze. Suddenly, I became scared of him. His tall body. His gangster-ish style. His wide chest, and his muscles barely visible. Little me was scared of what he'd do to me.

Then my Aunt stood up out of one of the audience seats and marched to Oppa.

"Ji-Oh. You've crossed the line!" my Aunt said in a loud voice.

"Tsk. That's supposed to be my line!" Oppa said angrily.

"You know I needed to be here. I'm her PARENT. That S*UPID lunch could wait," my Aunt said, furious.

"You prioritized her more than me? Do you even love me anymore?" Oppa asked.

"Bullsh*t. I stopped loving you a long time ago, and now I'm forced to marry you," my Aunt answered.

Oppa then slapped my Aunt in the face. Everyone saw and everyone heard the conversation.

"AUNTIE!" I screamed.

Whispers then arose around them. Oppa, after slapping my Aunt, looked at his hands, looked at my Aunt, and looked around him. The other parents looked at him. Him looking conflicted like a man who had lost himself. Oppa left the theater.

My Aunt then slowly walked towards the stage, looking down. She then slowly hopped onto the stage, looked at me in my wheelchair, and hugged me tightly. It was all eyes on us.

The teachers then came out and silently asked everyone to leave. Slowly, each parent left the theater.

My Aunt, who was hugging me tightly, was standing. She then held me tighter and slowly went down. Finally, she lay down in my lap and started to cry. Crying on her six-year-old niece's lap.

I was furious. I swore from that day on I would have revenge on that man. I also swore to never, ever call him "Oppa" again. He became a nobody to me. An enemy even.

Like how my family thinks that my Aunt is a nobody, I would do the same to them.

It was time for a long fight. Against Mr. Ji-Oh. The fight of my life. Justice will be served!

To be continued....

*Note: This is a work of Fiction. Any Names, Organization, Etc are fictional. So is any actions here.

A Massage from the Author:

"Thank you so much for reading Wheelchair P.O.V until here. If you have any suggestions for the story visit my instagram at @mrwalacrus . Once again thank you and I promise you the story gets more better from here"