The Flower Shop of Insomnia

Chapter 1

Dark shadows clouded the child's vision – the child who sat in a puddle of crimson liquid upon the cold, hard, kitchen floor. It was cold inside the house, and a freezing blizzard raged outside. Snow fluttered in through the shattered window and hit the child in the face, freezing his tears, and the sticky substances around him. Violent screams and cries echoed throughout the room; terrible things were done in the place, all around the child, yet he did not look up. The child stared straight ahead, his light lavender eyes locked upon the broken window, and the knocked over vase that had been set on the kitchen counter. The blue chamomile flowers that had been inside it were spilled across the floor, their roots sucking up the red.

"Stop, please, stop!" A woman's voice screamed, sounding strained and agonized. Something fell from the counter top behind the child and shattered on the floor, but he sat still, unmoving. Quiet sobs wracked his shoulders, but he would not look behind him.

A dark, unfamiliar voice cackled at that, and was followed by many other devious voices. "You want me to stop? You want to die?" Like the rumble of an avalanche, the voice let out a quiet chuckle, that gradually grew louder, and louder, until it was an insane laugh. "Everybody! She wants to die!" The deep voice screamed, and the sound of a skull hitting the edge of the counter was apparent, and followed by a sharp cry.

Silence followed for a moment, and the child tried to curl into himself. He wished he could just disappear, and the cold was really staring to make him shiver. In fact, everything about him seemed to be cold, from his tears, to his hands, to the tiny, pumping heart inside his rising and falling chest. Coughing meekly into his elbow, the child closed his eyes and tried to escape from the nightmare he was having. It was such an awful nightmare.

"Kill me." The woman's voice sounded weak, but determined, and if he tried to pinpoint the noise, the child figured she was lying on the floor, not too far behind him. A shiver ran up his spine. "Kill me." The woman repeated in a shrill voice. "Just...let me be the last. Please don't hurt my son."

Wicked snickering answered the female voice's desperate pleas. "Sorry, lady, we can't risk anything." One of the strangers said bluntly, and the noise of something crunching reverberated throughout the room. This time it was not something falling from the counter. This time, it was something hard being smashed in. The world seemed to grow colder, and, finally, the child turned his head. His large, wet eyes met the messy red body of his mother before him: her clothes were torn and ragged, barely any of them were left, and her eyes were pale, and open. Her mouth stretched wide into an unspoken cry of terror, or hatred, and her teeth were smashed in at some places. An ugly dent showed upon her skull where it had been apparently bludgeoned in.

"Mamulya..." The word, softly spoken, slipped from the child's lips, and his head tilted back ever-so-slightly, allowing him to stare up at the faces of the villains who had done this. For the first time, he seemed to realize that this was no dream – the blood that littered the floor and lacerated his trembling body was real. The screams of his sisters were real – their deaths were real – and his father falling down still in the kitchen, with a knife in his throat, that was real! And now...now his mother – his Mamulya – she was dead, and this was real. "Mamulya!" He squeaked, mouth falling agape in horror.

A large man beamed down at him. His face was partially consumed by shadow, but he stepped closer, tilting his head as he looked upon the child. Sharp, gray eyes surveyed the child's body, glinting dully, and deviously. "What a worthless thing you are." He sneered, drawing his hand backwards swiftly. "Well," he said, and his shadowy comrades laughed wickedly behind him. "say goodbye to the last Braginsky."

The sound of something whooshing through the air enveloped the child's ears during the last moment, and his eyes turned hard and emotionless, glued upon the strangers face. At that exact moment, a bloodied bat caught him harshly in the head, and he felt him self careening backwards, something wet running down his face. "Nyet..." He whispered, but so quietly that no one heard him, and then, the world turned pitch black, and everything became cold.

Toris Lorinaitis was a 16-year-old honor student, who always got straight A's, and was the most mature out of his whole family – adults included – at his youthful age. Since his mother and father fought a lot, Toris often was the one who did the cleaning, cooking, and caring for the children around his house. It wasn't that he minded – Toris liked being able to help out his family – and it made him feel useful, at least to his brothers. To his parents...he sometimes felt like they saw him as a menace.

"Shut the hell up you stupid bastard! You think I like staying home all fucking day? It's not my fault the damned kids get sick all the time, and are irresponsible little brats!"

It was only five o'clock in the morning, and already they were at it. Toris heard his mother's voice scream first – he had been awake, as he usually got up around four, but beforehand his parent's fighting had only been quiet snapping. Sighing, and feeling a tremor pass through his frame, Toris delicately set down the history book he had been reading and rose to his feet. As suspected, his mother's screams had awoken his two younger siblings – Eduard and Ravis – and the latter was shaking like a leaf.

"Don't talk to me that way, you lazy-ass bitch! I work my ass off so you and the kids can have a happy life, and this is how you repay me?" Their father's voice rang out, thunderously loud, and chalk-full of potential violence. "The least you could do is cook every once in a fucking while, or clean the damned house!"

A cry came out of Ravis' mouth, and he seemed to sink into the blankets surrounding him. He shared a bunk with Eduard, and was on the bottom, while Toris had his own, smaller bed, off to the side. "T-T-Toris!" Ravis squeaked, tears glistening in his large, blue eyes. "Toris, they're doing it again!" The tears slid down his cheeks, and scattered upon his pajamas (which was his father's T-shirt, and a pair of boxers). Fear wracked the boy's thin body, and hiccups began emerging from his lips.

Ignoring the screaming of his mother and father, Toris went over to his littlest brother, and put his arms around him in a gentle way. "I know, Ravis, but it'll be okay." He murmured reassuringly, stroking the tips of his fingers against Ravis' soft light brown hair. He tried to smile, but it came out lopsided, and bitter-sweet. "We just have to wait a little bit, and then they'll stop." He told Ravis instead.

The blankets on the top bunk rustled softly, and Eduard peered over the edge of the railing on his bed, down at the other two. "Father goes to work soon." He said, trying to remain cool, although Toris caught the waver in his voice; he was just as scared as any of them. "Don't cry, Ravis, it's unseemly for a male."

Toris cast his brother a sharp glare for that. "Anyone can cry." He growled, a bit to forcefully, as Eduard openly flinched. Taking in a deep breath, Toris continued. "crying actually releases tension." He gave Eduard an apologetic look after speaking, and his brother nodded in response.

As said, only about ten minutes of fighting lasted before the trio of frightened children heard the door slam; it was their father, they correctly assumed, storming off to work. Hearing this done, Toris rose from his place on the bed beside Ravis. "See? Everything's alright." He chuckled lightly, a false smile playing on his lips. "You can all go back to sleep...it is Saturday."

Not waiting to see if his brothers listened to him or not, Toris walked out the door, and shut it closed quietly behind him. I should check on mother. He thought, and the thought itself seemed timid in his mind. He slowly, carefully, made his way down the dimly lit hallway – the sunlight that seeped through the small windows was gray almost, and not yet alive – and stepped out into the living room. "Mother?" He called softly. "Is everything alright?" After a while of earning no response, he crept around the corner to peer over the back of the couch. There, his mother lay, her arm covering her red and swollen eyes, and wetness still visible on her cheeks. There was a broken picture frame next to where she lay, and a bruise covered her right wrist. "Mom..."

At the sound of her son's voice, Toris' mother drew her arm away from her face, and glared upon her son with sharp, angry blue eyes. Her eyes matched exactly to Ravis' and Eduard's, but bore no similarity to Toris' at all – his were bright, emerald green, like his father's. "Love child," She murmured softly, her voice full of thick hate all the same, "Your filthy eyes... You look exactly like him." With that, she sat up sharply, causing Toris to flinch back a bit.

Composing himself, Toris came forwards once more. "Mother, are you hurt?" He asked quietly, feeling the familiar sensation of his shoulders trembling. He reached out towards his mother's wrist, slowly and cautiously, and brushed his fingers against the light blue bruise. "Did he do this-?" He began.

"It's your fault!" His mother cut him off, jerking him forwards violently, so that he tumbled forwards and was halfway bent over the couch. The back of it was digging into his tummy, causing him to gag and cough; it was quite uncomfortable. "You son of a bitch! You monster!" His mother screeched, slapping him harshly across the face, so hard that his lip tore. He didn't move to fight her at all, and she slapped the other side of his face violently before shoving him backwards and away from herself. "You disgust me. You monster. If I hadn't gotten pregnant with you, I wouldn't have had to marry your father. Monster."

Pain struck Toris sharp in the chest, and it felt worse than the slaps he had received just moments ago. It was his mother's words which caused him to bow his head, letting strands of his light-chocolate hair cover his eyes, as he attempted to conceal the tears that were budding in the corners of them. "Maybe you should have had me aborted then." He hissed out of spite, although his vocals sounded weak.

"Don't you dare speak to me that way!" His mother snarled threateningly, looming over him. "I'll have your father teach you a lesson, you insolent brat!" Her hawk eyes flashed with pleasure when she saw Toris flinch at that, and then she lay back upon the couch, smiling. "Besides, if we had been living in America when I discovered I was heavy with you...I would have you dead. You should have been aborted. You're so ungrateful – I really don't think you deserve to be alive." Sniffing contemptuously, she proceeded to roll over onto her side, facing away from Toris. There was the sound of something rattling as she pulled a bottle of pills out from between the cushions of the couch. She slowly opened the top of the bottle, poured a few of the blue and yellow things into her hand, and then popped them in, gulping them down without any water. "Get out of my sight." She hissed afterward. Toris fled.

Stomping away from her, Toris rushed through the front door and slammed it hard behind him. Just like your father... His mother seemed to taunt in his head, and he slammed his hand against his ear furiously, as if to rid himself from his own thoughts. "Shut up..." He said to no one in particular as he felt the coldness of the morning air bite into his skin. Luckily, he changed into his day clothes as soon as he had awoken – Toris always came prepared for incidents such as this one, as they weren't an uncommon occurrence. Unhesitating, the 16-year-old made his way across the lawn and around the corner of his house. There, he found his old, worn bike. He put on his helmet, and hopped onto it, then sped down the sidewalk and into the street, intending on getting as far away from his family as he could possibly get at the moment. "I'm sorry..." He told the wind in a whisper, thinking of Eduard and Ravis being left alone. There's no helping it...I'll return soon.

The road took him down and into town, where a cluster of little shops and stores gathered. I'll cool off here for a while... Toris told himself, pulling into the bike rack and safely securing his bike there. The silvery metal glistened in the sunlight, catching it's shine in his eyes and making them light up even greener than usual. For a while he wandered around, stopping only every once in a while to peer into shop windows and stare at their contents. He hadn't brought his wallet with him, unfortunately, and the only money he had was a couple of dollars he had forgotten to take out of his jeans the last time he had worn them. Well...it's not like I need to buy anything anyways. He thought, bored, and he turned away from the last of the dull cafes and clothing shops, and began to walk back towards his house.

Something bright caught his eye. Toris turned his head ever-so-slightly, finding himself gazing upon a small, but prettily colored shop, wedged in the corner of the rest of them. He didn't recall ever seeing that shop before: it had an overhanging roof that covered the entrance, and the contents beneath it, and was painted neon green, (although the paint was old, cracked, and faded,) with little splashes of yellow sunflowers here and there upon it. Although it was intriguing, it was only a flower shop after all, and Toris was just about to turn away from it and go back to his bike...but then he recalled how upset his mother had been, and how she had said 'I'll have your father teach you a lesson'. Maybe, he could make her feel less sour, if he brought her back a flower or two... I just hope the money in my pocket is enough...

Sucking in a breath for confidence, Toris walked towards the place. His hands dove into his pockets, shakily counting the small amount of bills he had there, and he slowly came up to the flower shop. He looked up, searching for a title of the store, but there was none to be seen, so he stepped beneath the awning; in front of the shop, he was greeted by, it seemed, thousands of absolutely stunning flowers, growing merrily out of barrels. So many lovely shades of reds, blues, and yellows made him nervous, and he took a timorous step back, thinking, perhaps, he couldn't afford anything anyways, so it would be best to leave. Yes...this was an irrational idea in the first place. He thought, eyes flickering over the sprouting daffodils and flourishing irises, then towards the door. Hands damp with sweat, he turned to leave.

Something caught upon his sleeve and tugged. "H-ah!" Toris flinched greatly, spinning around in fear with his arm pulled back defensively. He came face-to-face with a silver-blonde haired boy, with giant, purple eyes full of innocence. The child stumbled away from him when he saw Toris' hand raised at him, letting out a shrill squeak of fear. The watering can that was in his left hand tumbled out and spilled all over the ground, and then he slipped in the water and landed on his rump, staring upwards at Toris with his jaw agape. "Oh..." Toris murmured, unsure.

Blinking, the boy hurriedly picked up the watering can, and attempted to get to his feet. His light-colored eyebrows were knitted together with worry and he chewed at his lower lip fretfully. "Please, forgive me, sir." He said, almost inaudibly, bowing the whole upper portion of his body to Toris, causing the elder boy to blush. "I-I hope I didn't wet your clothes, sir, I am very, very sorry, sir." The child went on, not meeting Toris' eyes. His hands trembled, and the free one, that wasn't holding the watering can, fumbled with a pale pink scarf that was wrapped around his neck. "S-sorry..."

A smile crossed Toris' lips for a brief moment. "Oh...t-that's OK!" He chirped, trying to sound merry, but his tone came out to sharply and he saw the little boy jump and drop his watering can again. The silver-blonde hair on his head swished to the side as he flinched, revealing the start of a cruel, wide scar. Feelings of empathy seemed to touch Toris' soul almost immediately. "Um...I'm sorry I frightened you." He apologized quickly, kneeling on the ground to retrieve the watering can and hand it back to the boy. "Let me help you clean up..."

"Nyet!" The child snapped, and Toris blinked with surprise. The boy proceeded to take a step backwards, his whole face turning bright red, and his shoulders quivering in a way that reminded Toris of his own.

Taken aback, a chuckle escaped his throat. "Hah...you are Russian?" He asked, although it was more of a statement. The child did not respond to him, so he continued smiling, and murmured, "Come. Let me help you. What's your name?"

Seeing this boy was not going to give up, the child sighed, swaying back and forth on the tops of his ankles. "Ivan." He told Toris almost silently, not looking up. His interesting eyes remained glazed upon the pool of water on the ground, and after a while of staring at it, tears came to his eyes, and he started to cry.

"A-ah...Ivan...don't..." Feeling increasingly bad, Toris knelt to the boy height, and reached out an uncertain hand. "Please...don't cry...it was my fault...I'm sorry." His emerald eyes shone like molten green lava, and his mouth was opened into a little 'o' shape of confusion, and pity. "I'm sorry..." I've barely met him, and now he's crying...

Shaking slightly, the boy reached up a hand to wipe the tears from his face roughly. He sniffled loudly, then looked at Toris, and his glossy light purple eyes seemed to be full of stars. For a second, it seemed as if he were about to smile...but then a great shadow fell over both of them, and a hand reached down and grabbed Ivan by the back of his shirt harshly. Automatically, the boy began sobbing again.

Looking up, Toris spotted a tall and lanky man, with sunken in cheek bones and dark, deep, yellow eyes, with spots of brown inside them. His hair was long and oily, black, and braided into a thick singular braid that ran down to his thigh. "Ivan!" He snapped menacingly, causing the boy to drop the watering can once more. "Were you being rude to customers again?"

A squeak escaped Ivan's throat, and he thrashed about in the man's arms wildly, kicking out his feet and hands like a trapped animal. "N-no! No!" He wailed. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" His mouth opened wide and he let out a long, siren-like screech. Toris stood by, or rather, knelt, as he was still on the ground, and stared up at the boy with a shocked expression.

Setting Ivan back on the ground, the man gripped him by his hair. "What did you do to this man? Did you push him down! What did you do?" Furious, he spun Ivan around so he was face-to-face with Toris. The boy was sobbing audibly now, and the man swatted him harshly from behind. "Apologize!" He demanded, hitting him again.

"I-I-I-I'm-" He started, the tears falling off his cheeks and splattering onto the ground.

"I'm sorry! No, it was my fault, sir, I bumped into him, I'm sorry, I scared him, and he dropped the watering can." Rising to his feet, Toris gave Ivan a sorry look, then glanced up at the man holding him with a burning expression. This whole situation reminded him of something his mother might have done to him when he was younger, and he did not wish it to repeat itself to this young child here. "Please, don't take it out on him, sir. It really was my fault." He stated as sincerely as he possibly could, trying not to let hatred simmer beneath his gaze.

The owner of the flower shop laughed heartily, then released Ivan as if he hadn't planned on spanking the child right then and there in front of Toris. His banana-rotten yellow eyes squinted when he chuckled, and his teeth shone a strange, almost gray color. "Ahahaha, I apologize then!" He gasped, giving Toris a pat on the shoulder. "I thought Ivan had been misbehaving again – he's quite the troublesome child." Smiling almost kindly, he reached over and ruffled Ivan's silver-blonde hair, causing the boy to grimace at his touch. "Anyways...what kind of flowers were you looking to buy?"

"Oh, please, let me clean up the mess first-"

"No." The way he said it made Toris jump. "That's okay, hah hah!" He went on merrily. "Ivan will clean it up. What kind of flower were you looking for?"

This bastard... "Um...I..." Toris sought for words to say, but none would come to his mouth at the moment. It felt dry, and thick; it was hard to speak for some reason, like there was cotton on his tongue. "I..." He tore his eyes away from the flower shop owner and stared at the ground. "I was just looking." He muttered coldly. "I don't have any money right now."

"Oh." The man seemed to loose interest in him then. "Well," He began coolly, distantly, tossing Ivan aside as if he were nothing but a rag doll. The boy stumbled and then darted into the shop itself, away from the both of them; this made Toris feel quite sad. "if you ever have money, my name is Alan Temuujin. I have the best flowers in town, don't forget that."

They were pretty great-looking flowers. "I won't." Toris grumbled to him. "See you another time." With that said, he turned and fled away from the shop, taking the lingering scent of flowers with him. Even as he unhinged his bike from the bike rack, the scent still remained. He cast one last look towards the brightly painted flower shop, and wondered if Temuujin was still out there, watching him like he were a thief. Like I'd want to steal flowers, anyways! He laughed to himself sarcastically, pushing his helmet onto his head and buckling the strap beneath his chin. As he hopped onto his silver bike, Toris saw Ivan back outside at the flower shop. The boy was crouched on his hands and knees with a rag, mopping up the water he had spilled. Why not just let it evaporate...? Toris slightly wandered, but, deciding it made no matter either way, he turned his head and forced himself to drive home.

All night, Toris lay awake thinking about that child. He thought about him so hard even, that he couldn't hear the wretched screaming of his mother and father, nor could he hear the whimpers he himself was making in the back of his throat. His mind was so enveloped in the day's incidents, that he barely cried when his father 'taught him a lesson' for being insolent to his mother that morning, and, when he fell asleep, he even dreamed of the shop, and the sunflowers painted on the building, and Ivan, sitting in a puddle of spilled water, staring up at the cloudy sky, and singing.

Well...I know I really shouldn't be starting another story, but I'll make this one a short one, I think. It should only have a few chapters in it...but anyhow...this story was inspired by the song "In a Rainy Town, Balloons Dance with Devils", even though I've strayed far from the plot of the song (but that's OK, I think). Anyways, if you look up the song, listen to Fukuwa's version, as it's awesome, and that's the version that really fits this story the best~.

Besides that...

Alan Temuujin - the name is Mongolian. Mongolian people don't have last names, in general, therefore his name is Temuujin, but his first name is his father's name (they put their dad's name in front). I don't feel like explaining. Whatever.