The Rules of the Game

When I was young I figured out the trick to life, it was a game; and to get through it all you had to do was know the rules. If you listened and watched you could learn the rules quickly, it was those who didn\'t that would lose the game, and you lose you die. But despite this, even if you know all the rules, there are some people who are just dealt a shitty hand, and I swear I didn\'t even have a pair of two\'s in the first hand I was dealt, but I did have something; a gift of picking up the rules quickly.

One of the basic rules you must understand is that the game is different depending where you are, and that certain rules apply to only certain places, but not only that, some rules only apply to certain people. Where some rules make all the difference at one place, they can be inconsequential in another. You have to be able to adapt quickly if you plan on advancing, and if you plan on surviving. You have to pay attention because the consequences for breaking a rule can be most unpleasant.

Perhaps it was a good thing that I was raised in one of the places with the strictest rules, so that I quickly learned the order of things. If you have the power on the board then you can mold the rules as you see fit, but as I mentioned before I was dealt a crappy hand.

Rule #1: No crying.

The first rule I remember being taught was also one of the first memories that I have of that place, it became the first rule there: no crying. I\'m not even sure how old I was, but it was surely only days after I arrived. I had not been feed in hours though I had watched the other child my age be feed twice already, so I decided to remind them (perhaps they had just forgotten) that I was hungry as well, so I cried. A few seconds passed before a roar of anger startled me so much that I was cut short and soon staring wide-eyed into an enormous purpling face.

\"You listen here you little wretch. I don\'t want to hear anything from you, you worthless piece of shit, or you\'ll learn the hard way to keep quiet.\"

I obviously didn\'t understand what the man was saying but the implication was made clear enough by the bruising force on my arm that brought forth a whimper of pain. As my young self watched confused as the other child cried and received attention it was then that I realized that things were not equal for everyone, some were exempt from the rules (like that other child), but not me; I never cried out for him again.

I would never again assume that I had some privilege merely because another did, but as a child I still didn\'t know the rules. I learned what I could from watching the other members of the house but it seemed that I was different somehow, that I had my own rules that I had to obey, and the only way for me to find one was when I broke it.

For the next few years I tried to be as discreet and obedient as I could in order to learn the rules with as little punishment as possible, and perhaps make them love me as they did the other boy; but that\'s was not as easy as it sounds.

Rule #2: No questions.

It had only taken a few smacks across the back of the head to learn this rule, which though strange, I obeyed. The questions seemed logical to me: Why can\'t I play outside? Can I have more food? Where did I get my scar from? ... It was usually this last question that resulted in a smack so hard I would end up sprawled out on the floor.

\"Boy, we have given you so much when no one else wanted you. You were just thrown on our doorstep, abandoned and it was because of us that you didn\'t die. You are nothing but an idiot and we don\'t have time for your stupid questions, frankly it would be best if you didn\'t speak at all!\"

And he was right... right? I was abandoned, no one wanted me, and if it weren\'t for them I don\'t know what would have happened to me. If they treated me this way then the reason must be because I am a burden, worthless, ugly, and idiot. I was beginning to understand that this was true, just another fact of the game, but one thing I do remember thinking was what a gift he had given me, a new rule... don\'t speak; so I didn\'t.

Rule #3:Don\'t speak... unless spoken to.

Unfortunately I quickly found a problem to this rule and had it quickly modified in my brain. True they preferred not to hear my voice, or acknowledge my existence more than necessary, but if spoken to I was expected to respond with a: no ma\'am/ yes sir/ of course Dudley; or whatever variation the situation required.

With these three basic rules down it seemed that things were going well and by the age of five I had a good system going. I would wake early from my cupboard; wait patiently with my legs crossed on my bed for my aunt to open my door, hands folded in my lap. Then I would go into the kitchen and see what was available to cook for breakfast. Hopefully I would finish as the rest of the family came down, not too soon that it\'s cold and definitely not too late as if to make them wait, or I would have to be punished. I would wait patiently at the side of the table, hands behind my back and standing straight until finished and then would clear the table. Dudley and Petunia would go upstairs to finish getting dressed while I waited for Vernon to finish the morning newspaper and see if I would get any punishments for the morning. Punishments ranged from smacks, punches to a few lashes with his belt on my arse, but that was usually only if I broke something. Sometimes though he would give me a few lashes anyway, I would never dare ask why though I\'m sure he had a reason either way... besides on those days he would usually take a cream and rub it on to sooth the marks. That\'s when I would feel really special, it was as if he didn\'t want to hurt me, but I had to learn the rules.

The rest of the day would consist of me doing chores; dusting, vacuuming, polishing, mending clothes, sometimes I could even go outside (in the back of course) where I would weed the garden or plant flowers. I think I enjoyed that the best because I was outside. I was allowed a small amount of food during lunch then back to chores, in to cook dinner and then any additional punishments for that day were given before I was locked back up into my cupboard. I was always a fast healer and so not a day went buy when I was not given some form of punishment. When my rapid healing ability was first discovered Vernon and Petunia were furious, screaming about beating something evil out of me, resulting in horrible lashes to my back, a broken arm and I believe a few broken ribs. Like always I didn\'t cry or say anything (I learned long ago that that did nothing) but when Petunia and Vernon saw the state I was in I saw a flash of regret in there faces. It was in that moment I realized that they do care for me and despite the pain I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

When I woke up the next morning it was to find my body mostly healed. Despite multiple bruises and some more scars on my back my body was healed. When Vernon and Petunia saw me the next morning there was much relief in their faces and I felt a spark of happiness at the thought that they were glad I was ok... or so I believed. That night Vernon again beat me badly, as if to test the limits of my healing abilities, come morning all broken bones and cuts were again healed and he didn\'t wait until that night to test them again but took me to the basement that morning and after punching me and beating me for a while took an old whip they had bought at a garage sale and brought it down repeatedly on my back. His belts had not hurt as much as this, as the whip seemed to be ripping chunks of flesh from my back. I struggled hard to follow the rules, I didn\'t cry out or speak, but for a few whimpers and moans that were hidden by the sounds of the whip. When he finished and left me bleeding on the cold cement floor I lay there and watched as a cut on my arm began to mend right before eyes. I panicked and began to wish with all my might that it wouldn\'t heal. If it did he would return and test me again and again and I wasn\'t sure how much longer I could follow my rules. Somehow it worked, as I continued to plead in my head the cut stopped healing and I fainted into unconsciousness contentedly.

When I woke again I was in my cupboard, lying on my stomach and by the pain in my back knew that my wounds were still not healed. With the push of a thought I felt a warmth began to spread along my back and into my broken arm and knew it was healing. It was then that I realized that I had a gift as well as a new rule if I wished to succeed in this game.

Rule #4: The key to safety and success is underestimation. (Secrets are more valuable than gold; which seeing as I had no money was a lot.)

Any advantage, any special skill that I had or could have must be utilized to it\'s fullest but most of all kept secret. The only way for me to use this to my advantage was to be underestimated, in other words for Vernon to believe that I had no control over this strange ability while I really needed to master it to its fullest and see all I could do.

When Petunia opened my cupboard in the morning she opened it to find me sitting cross-legged, hands in my lap as always with a tentative smile on my face. It was the first mask that I had ever used in front of them and one that would become one that I wore often, it was one of innocence, obliviousness, naivety... and it worked flawlessly.