discrimination
...agically lights up and the people move in at the slightest touch of a button. He had seen the house. On his bed, he could only dream of living in it. That white house, marbled spiral staircase, the room with a window which overlooked the town, him in a tuxedo, the detailed human-size statue of him sitting on that posh fur carpet in the middle of the room, the huge poster of him hanged just behind his magnificent king sized bed that was covered with a mosquito net, the huge television sitting at the end of his bedroom, that with just a slight snap of his fingers, he could summon a dozen servants, all ready to be at his beck-and-call, whether it was to massage his feet, clip his fingernails or to serve him his dinner consisting of that steaming hot turkey, that mango pudding. Oh, he could salivate at the mere thought of it. That was the lifestyle he could only dream of having. What he would give up to even just get to live that for one day. But then he realized he could have really been living that lifestyle. It was all taken away from him just because that man living his posh life was too egotistical to accept him as he was. Arnold slowly got up from his chair thanking old Tim for all his time and help relate to him his past. His old, cold and political past. As he walked out of the fire-light room and into the dark walkways of the orphanage which he wished he did not know as well, he thought “All those people would stare at me differently. It would not be a stare of pity or disgust, rather one of awe and envy. If only they knew I was a Bervosky,” as he slammed his fist into the wall and cried bitterly. He laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The fan seemed to be turning so slowly that day. It was all so familiar to him. The constant stream of tears flowing like a river, down his face, cheeks, and finally onto his bed. The sound of him sobbing, mixed with the lone swooshing of the ceiling fan. He knew that scene all too well. Every night was like tape-recorded, with the viewer thinking that all that was a joke. A outcast of society was a joke. Being deformed was a joke. Every night was the same. Was he crying out of self-pity? Or was it because he was just reviewing why his life was like that. Every night, he asked god, thinking that life was just one cruel joke, and god was just the sadist puppeteer who controlled their lives. So, that night, he decided, amongst all his tears that he was going to run off. To find was rightfully his. A place in that house he so longed wanted to live in. He knew they most probably would not keep him, therefore, he needed a backup plan. He would need something to scare them. To make sure he got even something at all. Then, bit by bit, a plan formulated in his head. He left the place he called home for so many years the next morning with just one dollar which he had kept for so many years. He had found it just laying around the garden floor one early easter morning. He knew that when he left that rusty old gate behind, he would start a new chapter of his life. He would never be able to come back to the orphanage. For a moment last night, he doubted himself. Whether his plan would work, and what would happen to him if he failed in his quest, but he did not allow himself to think about that as he was confident that he would succeed. Walking up the long steep hill to his future, he began to imagine. He thought of him really wearing a tuxedo, walking around ordering his servants to do his bidding. Then, he reached the huge gates of Bervosky manor. From the outside, he could see the fountain in the middle of the huge garden. And behind it stood the magnificent building. The house of dreams, he always called it. Soon, a servant ran up to the gate asked what he wanted in a Chinese accent. He said he was a descendant of the Bervosky and he demanded to see the owner of the household. Frightened, the little servant scampered away. Arnold paced around, knowing he had asserted his first order as a Bervosky. He could get comfortable with that lifestyle. Soon, an old man he presumed was the famous Augustus Bervosky. He seemed to recognize Arnold and invited him in in a fluster, as though he was afraid to let others see them together. Thus, he stood in the white halls, with an old man staring at him and sternly asked, “ I recognize you. You are that little baby my daughter had. What are you doing here and what do you want?” Arnold just formally replied, “ I am here just to get what your family or more appropriately, my family owes me. What they owe me for throwing my mother out of the house and into the hell hole I grew up in. What right did you have to throw us out. I was just an innocent baby. If God made me this way, then I am this way. For what reason do you question the almighty god’s decision. I am here because god wants me to torment you. I am your dirty laundry and if you do not oblige to my requests.” Augustus was stunned. He knew Arnold could easily spill his decision to throw him out of the house. But he could not bear to live with this monstrosity for the rest of his life. He could not bear to. As calm as he could, he took out his cheque book from his pocket and signed a cheque for a hundred million and handed it to Arnold. Arnold stared at the cheque. “ Is this a bribe? Is this even half…. No, is this even one-tenth of your money? I doubt so. I want two hundred million, a house like yours, fully furnished and a car. A Ferrari e...