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Lucid looked over at her mother, wincing at the shouting. Her mother had brought a man home a few days ago. It wasn’t turning out well.

It never turned out well.

The young skeleton shook herself and curled up in her corner. Her living space consisted of a pillow and a moth-eaten blanket, but she didn’t care. What she did care about was that her mother was drunk and in one of her moods. When her mother wasn’t having these bad moods, she was tolerable. Lucid only had to go through a few insults, maybe a rough touch. Nothing too bad. However, when the older monster was in a mood like this, Lucid often feared for her life, because during these times, the weak skeleton was just a punching bag for her mother to use for relieving anger.

Lucid heard the footsteps into the room and instantly went limp. She breathed silently, flattening herself to the ground. This was her best bet at not getting attacked. If she didn’t trigger the anger, she could be let off easily. She closed her eyes, including her third one, inwardly praying to whatever god was merciful enough to take pity on a small child in a chaotic home. However, no one answered her call, because a sharp boot collided with the frail skeleton’s ribs, drawing a pained yelp.

“Get up you worthless scum!” Her mother’s annoyed voice snarled and Lucid lept to her feet, tears forming in her eyes from the pain. Just because she endured pain didn’t mean she had a high pain tolerance. It just meant that she hadn’t died, though Lucid secretly hoped that one of these days her mother would kill her. Better to die and be over with this living hell.

“You’re the cause of this mess,” Her mother said venomously. It wasn’t completely true, but Lucid bit her tongue, not daring to speak. “I should have never taken you in.” Lucid predicted the hand that would collide with her face, but she didn’t move away. Best to take the punches, or they would hurt more. Her mother didn’t like it when Lucid tried to dodge. It was just another way Lucid would deprive her mother of what she wanted.

“I-I’m sorry, Miss,” Lucid apologized, keeping her gaze on the ground as her cheek stung. Just because she was unable to see did not mean that eye contact wasn’t important. Looking to the ground apparently was respectful as Lucid had learned. Now, all Lucid needed to know was where the ground was, and that was an easy task.

“You better be sorry, bitch!” the hand made contact with Lucid’s face again, and Lucid tensed at the fresh pain. Still, the young child made sure not to move. Just stay there and take slap after slap. In the end, it won’t matter because you’ll feel it again tomorrow. This had become a routine and a hell. Some sort of cruel punishment for her sins. What Lucid was being punished for, she didn’t know.

“You’re just some failed experiment General Gaster begged me to take care of.” Her mother spat. “Just a broken war machine. That’s what you are.”

Lucid was immune to these insults. Mostly because she didn’t remember what her mother was talking about. She remembered the General, and she faintly could remember two others. Lucid couldn’t remember their names, but she knew they had been close. If they were other experiments, she hoped they were having, or had, a better life than hers.

“You couldn’t even help us win the war, and look where we are now!” Oh yes, that was another part of her apparent ‘failures.’ She had failed to win the war and now the monsters were stuck underground. Everyone blamed her for it, though Lucid didn’t know why. Shouldn’t they blame her creator for making her dysfunctional? Wasn’t it the creator’s fault that she was the blind demon child everyone despised?

But that didn’t matter to the others. They only cared that they had a punching bag to relieve their sorrows.

And that punching bag was Lucid.