Coming Clean
A/N: I'm not sure what brought this on. But hey here it is. A little dark look into what could have been Satoshi's childhood and a explanation on why his father left and why no one will talk about him.
Also for those of you who don't know;
Satoshi is Ash,
Kasumi is Misty and
Takeshi is Brock
respectively those are their Japanese names.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or any of their characters but I will take credit for borrowing them and messing with their heads for my own amusement.
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I love the rain, the sound of it and the feel of it hitting my face in soft fat splashes. Even now so many years after my childhood I'll run out into it in the middle of the night and spin and laugh, feeling free
and alive. Pikachuu will watch from the window or under the protective branches of a tree not joining me but looking out for me all the same, and secretly I'm glad she doesn't join me, this is my moment of freedom. It's the time when I can remember and surrender to my memories and not be depressed about them.
Kasumi is yelling at me from the pokemon center we're staying at, screaming at me to come inside before I catch a cold. But I can't come in, not yet. Takeshi will keep her from coming out after me, he may not know why, but he knows that nights like these are special to me. Because you see it's nights like these, when the rain falls like heavy tears and thunder will dance across the sky, nights like these are when I will remember
my childhood and you my father.
You see, I know now why when I was little, I would find mother curled in my bed, her arms wrapped around me like I was some sort of living teddy bear, her tears hot on my neck, and I could hear you downstairs screaming and breaking the little things that we had held dear. The sound of shattering glass
still makes me jump and my heart race you know.
It still frightens me.
But I was too little to understand, why in the middle of the night I would hear screaming, the muffled sounds of things being thrown or broken and how mother would suddenly fly into my room, her hair tossled and her eye purpling and lip broken and bleeding. I wouldn't understand why she would lean against the door
and cry and whisper to me to go back to sleep and that everything was alright. But now I know nothing was alright on those nights, and I understand why in the mornings after you would cry and hold me and tell me how sorry you where, while mother would stand to the side and clean up the glass that you had broken.
Your gone now, Mother tells me that you left us, one night just like this one, when it was dark and raining and the thunder lighted up the sky, and that is all I know father, that's all. No one will talk about you around me, and I'm not sure I would really listen if they did.
I don't remember your face but I remember my mothers tears, the sound of her cries and the broken glass, and I wonder silently to myself, are you out in the rain too? And if not, who are you saying sorry to now?
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Reviews are nice, criticism and pointers are even better. But remember! if you cant say anything nice, say it somewhere else because I don't want to hear it ^.~