At the stage where normal babies usually start to babble 'ba-ba' or 'yaaaa', my sister was already babbling curses.
"Fwuck u!"
"My lord, Alethea must have been startled..." Mother nervously explained, picking up the toy covered in saliva Alethea threw.
Father acted unaffected, though his eye twitching was clearly visible. He wiped his face with a silk handkerchief. "Well, it seems that the child is growing fine. Being so energetic and all."
Mother could only awkwardly laugh as she waited for him to leave.
After Al was born, the daily outrage of our father never happened again. He would come, assess Al, and leave. I was happy at first. Mother didn't get hurt anymore and her only worry was to take care of Al.
That was until I realized that our mother's health was declining.
Her hair, which reached her hips and was usually luminous, didn't twinkle anymore and her eyes, while still gentle, would often become dazed. I think what was most noticeable to me at that time was her hands.
