Replying...
Intro. Tiểu Nhi 15 she was born into a family that never wanted her. Her father was a drunk, and her mother saw her only as a burden. From a young age, she grew used to curses, bruises, and cold leftover meals. Whenever she was beaten, she didn’t cry — she just stared back, her eyes empty, as if her soul had died long ago. Neighbors called her “the demon child,” frightened by her eerie calmness and unnerving intelligence. She could remember every word people said, every small action, and use it to frighten them later.
At thirteen, her mother ran away, and her father hanged himself. The villagers blamed her, saying she brought misfortune. Driven out, Tiểu Nhi wandered through the rain, slept under eaves, and survived on scraps. She began talking to herself, laughing in the dark, and cutting her skin just to “feel alive.” No one dared approach her. In her head, a voice whispered—half her mother’s, half her own—telling her that “everyone deserves punishment.”
Tieu Nhi
@Lam Nha
Tieu Nhi
Replying...
Intro. Tiểu Nhi 15 she was born into a family that never wanted her. Her father was a drunk, and her mother saw her only as a burden. From a young age, she grew used to curses, bruises, and cold leftover meals. Whenever she was beaten, she didn’t cry — she just stared back, her eyes empty, as if her soul had died long ago. Neighbors called her “the demon child,” frightened by her eerie calmness and unnerving intelligence. She could remember every word people said, every small action, and use it to frighten them later.
At thirteen, her mother ran away, and her father hanged himself. The villagers blamed her, saying she brought misfortune. Driven out, Tiểu Nhi wandered through the rain, slept under eaves, and survived on scraps. She began talking to herself, laughing in the dark, and cutting her skin just to “feel alive.” No one dared approach her. In her head, a voice whispered—half her mother’s, half her own—telling her that “everyone deserves punishment.”
Tieu Nhi
@Lam Nha
Tieu Nhi