I am a Scarecrow and the Demon Lord of Terror!
chapter-63

"Where is this place?"

In her sleep, Emil's consciousness gradually woke up.

She opened her eyes in a daze, but she was surprised to find that she was standing on a cliff.

In front of her, the sea breeze whistled, and the sound of the waves crashing against the rock wall below was clear.

She was jolted awake. Emil widened her eyes and looked around.

"Where is this place?"

She asked again, but she did not answer.

"I, am I not looking into the eyes of that strange scarecrow?"

Recalling the scene before she fell asleep, Emil's expression was a little uneasy.

"Could it be that scarecrow brought me here?"

There was indeed something strange about that scarecrow.

Emil guessed uneasily, but she did not know that she had unintentionally guessed the correct answer.

With this thought in mind, Emil lowered her head and looked down at the bottomless abyss. She immediately retreated.

"Phew! Phew!"

She patted her chest and tried her best to calm herself down.

She began to observe her surroundings.

Her surroundings were barren. The sky was covered in dark clouds, and lightning streaked across from time to time.

There was no greenery. All that could be seen was the inky sea and pitch-black rocks.

Emil was certain that she had never been here before.

If she had been to such an impressive place once, she would never forget it.

As she was unconscious before she fell asleep, Emil did not realize that she had fallen asleep.

She subconsciously blamed everything on the little scarecrow doll that made her feel uneasy and afraid.

After observing it for a moment, she felt a little uneasy and did not know what to do.

Since there was no answer and the scarecrow that brought her here did not appear, she might also look around more.

Perhaps this would lead to something.

The most important thing now was to get out of here and return to the dormitory.

Just as she took a step, Emil suddenly found that her body had shrunk to the age of six or seven.

Her arm was so small and slender.

The bruises on his fair and tender arm were very eye-catching.

Some of them were almost colorless, while some looked as if they were new.

If an ordinary person really looked at it, they would be able to imagine what kind of torture this arm had gone through.

It made one's heart filled with pity, and their love surged.

Emil stared at the bruises. Her expression was not too good, and those distant memories surfaced in her mind.

"What's going on? Why did I become smaller? And this injury... could it be that the scarecrow did all this?"

Emil's expression was uncertain. She did not know why the other party had brought her here.

But no matter what, the other party had done one thing, and that was that the other party had successfully provoked her.

She was in a horrible mood.

It is well known that most prodigies do not have a happy childhood.

Emil grew up in a violent family.

It was a depressing, damp, dark family.

Her father was a very violent man and would often beat and kick her mother.

At first, under her mother's protection, Emil was not the object of abuse.

But the good times did not last long. His mother was beaten to death by his father. But, of course, this was not the case in the eyes of others.

Emil's father was good at disguising himself. In front of others, he was a gentleman who loved his wife very much.

Even if he lived in the slums, he was still a good person with a good reputation.

And Emil's mother, in the eyes of outsiders, was a little mentally weak. There were no women who dragged her husband down.

As for this, the victim's mother did not resist.

On the other hand, it was for Emil's sake. If they divorced, she would naturally fight for custody.

As Emil's mother, she naturally did not want Emil to follow such a violent husband.

However, if she were separated from her husband, her mother, who was unable to work, would not bear the daily expenses.

There was no other way. The entire family depended on her husband's work to maintain their food and clothing.

Therefore, for the sake of her children, her mother chose to endure all of this quietly.

On the other hand, Emil's father would use sweet words to coax his wife every time he used violence.

There was no doubt that he was a scumbag.

If Emil were there now, she would naturally know that her father was a controlling scumbag who liked manipulating people.

But her mother did not realize this.

Every time she was foolishly coaxed by an apology, she would foolishly think that her husband would really repent and change his mind.

The naive her even thought that the other party's work pressure caused this.

Therefore, she silently endured until the end of her life.

Emil would never forget the day her mother died. She would never forget the scene at that time.

From then on, as a substitute for her mother, Emil became the target of venting.

Perhaps because of her mother's death, this so-called 'father' obviously restrained himself from beating Emil.

In this environment, she grew up and established her artistic style in Emil's future works.

Depressing, weird, and dark.

Looking at the scars on her hand, those bad memories flashed through her mind one by one.

If there was anything that made him feel warmer and happier when she was young, it was when her mother taught Emil how to draw.

Emil skillfully used his hand to pinch and twist this arm, creating new bruises and wounds.

The memories of drawing with her mother became clearer in her mind.

"Emil, does this look like a butterfly to you?"

To not make the young Emil worry, her mother generously displayed a purple bruise on her body.

"Hmm... it doesn't look like one."

Emil looked at it for a while, then shook her head.

"How about this?"

Her mother's fingers exerted force, creating new wounds on the wound.

Soon, a butterfly bruise appeared before Emil's eyes.

When he first saw the scene, Emil was stunned.

At that time, Emil felt that it was fun as if she had found a new toy.

She used her mother's body to paint, and the paint was these bruises.

Because of this experience, Emil knew at a young age what method could be used to make people's skin show what color it was.

At that time, Emil did not notice that when she painted, his mother's expression was distorted because of pain.

Because, whenever she looked up at her mother, her mother always had a gentle and loving look.

Emil also did not know that painting with the body would hurt until after her mother died.

Because, before that, her mother prohibited Emil from trying to paint on her own body.

Emil expressionlessly left scar after scar on her arm.

All sorts of bruises formed together, outlining a gloomy and depressing landscape painting.

And the content of this painting was shockingly the scene before Emil's eyes.

"It really hurts, mother."