She Knew

Paine-centric

Oneshot

Disclaimer: This story is completely fictitious. It's just a twisted thought from the confused mind of a teenager. I do understand the sensitivity of this subject and consider to whom I wrote this before you flame me in to oblivion, 'kay?

I don't own anything related to Final Fantasy. So, don't sue.

I'd go to jail.

"Don't you love me, little baby?" The silver-haired man's throaty baritone murmured, then cackled as he took a hit from his cigarette. He loomed over her and placed pale, slender hands on young hips. Her youthful teenage body felt supple to the touch and pale to the eyes. Her red orbs, the eyes she had inherited from him, as like so many other physical traits, hollowed as he grazed his hands down to her inner thighs. A lone silent tear rolled down her porcelain cheek, landing on the soft graying linens of the newly made bed.

He laughed once more, removing his hands from her frail body. Gracefully, he moved to the large window and tossed out his cigarette. It burned to ashes under his watchful eye. Stark naked himself, the man glowed in the eerie moonlight. His silver hair seemed unnatural - almost angelic - in the shimmering light.

There was nothing angelic about him, she knew.

The girl breath's dulled as she fell into a trance in an attempt to block out what was to come and what had already been. It was one of many routines the young female dreaded exercising.

Her eyes followed him as he went to the dresser and retrieved handcuffs. They were all too familiar, she knew. A fat tear slid down her face as he approached. "Don't worry," he traced the handcuffs over her exposed breasts and smiled. She shriveled her body against a pillow and pleaded. Her shouting words were mere whispers to the man as he watched her, taking in every movement and getting harder by the second. He loved to see her squirm feel her cold, exposed body fighting his movements. Her tears - the taste, the scent - aroused him. He lived for it and oh, did she know.

He roughly pulled her across the bed, handcuffing her ankle to the bedpost. He gagged her with a thin scarf, kissing her soft, tear-streaked cheek as soft fabric cupped and constricted it.

When finally he had her securely tied, he ran his index finger down the length of her tiny figure. She shrunk under the touch, flooding tears clogged her vision. He stopped at her belly button and drew circles around it. She screamed, but it went no further then the room. She screamed, hoping and praying, that for once, some soul would hear her. She screamed, waiting for her knight in shining armor. She screamed in vain, she knew.

Muffled words don't travel far.

"I love you." He whispered into her ear, causing her to shriek and fight with increasing violence. He covered her head with a pillowcase and entered her. Her terrified shrieks subsided as her groping hands struck gold. A drop of crimson feel from a prick in her finger. She grew tense in anticipation.

The man stopped his pumping, unaccustomed to such abruptness . She flung her freed hand around his neck and he smiled. After many failed hits to her recoiling stomach, after many mumbled threats, after many strained moments of struggle, the girl fought the man off. They collided on the floor, and she withdrew her saving grace from the nightstand.

"Are you going to stab me? I thought my baby loved me. Don't you love me, Paine?" He laughed and reached for the knife. Twin sets of scarlet orbs widened as the steel slid through his hand, blood spat from wound.

Paine gazed at him silently; her eyes stony with apathy. He made her this way, she knew. He did things to her that no being should endure, she knew. She knew so little and, yet, so much. She just knew.

The man cackled into the night as the knife slid from his hand to his chest. He gaped for a moment, suffering eyes flitting from one infection to the next, and covered his wound, feeling the cold steel of a blade. His demonic red eyes shot her a furious stare before slowly glazing over. Paine collapsed in heavy breaths on the floor. This, she knew, would be the undoing of her pain and the beginning of so much more. The girl took one long, gasping breath and shot it out quickly. She shakily stood, finally freed from her ten-year long hell, and gazed down upon her father. He didn't deserve the term, she knew. Her knowledge, she could recognize, was fleeting.

However, the one thing she would know forever: he would never know her again.

I know you won't understand how personal this story is to me, and I will take it off if it becomes too much of a problem. If you can see the art in this writing, please leave me comments on how to improve. : I'm ever hoping for improvement.