Windflower
Disclaimer: I don't own.
Rating: M for later stuff.
AN: Hey guys, its me again, I kinda abandoned my other fic Alice Walker, but I'll update is as soon as I can, but for now I'm going to be starting a new fic. Anywho, please enjoy, feel free to flame, review, the like. Begin the story-ing!
"Please don't go! I love you!"
Kanda scowled at the voice, the soft voice of his soft mother pitifully crying out to his bastard, stupid prick of a father.
"I love you! I love you! Don't leave me!"
He could hear her sniffling and hear tears in her eyes and hear pleading and fear in her voice. The soft voice of his soft mother, he could hear her wanting with every fiber in her body that that stupid jackass would stay.
"Honey, I can't, you know I can't, please. You know." Stupid prick.
"I'll do anything! Just, please, don't leave! Don't!" He could envision his poor beautiful mother in his mind, her long thin fingers grasping at that guys pant leg, begging.
He could hear that guy sigh, the front door slam shut, his mother squeal in delight.
Kanda knew, he knew every time, that damned guy would come back to fuck her and then leave the next morning. Kanda was sickened by how his father made her. Every time he came back it was like this. She would cook so much food, no one could eat that much, she was so excited.
"Kanda, daddy's coming back, daddy's coming back." She would dress him nice. Presentable, like Kanda had to impress his own father.
Because he did.
Every time. Every fucking time.
When things would be turning up for once, he'd come back. That stupid fucker would come back and ruin everything.
And the walls were too thin and his hearing too sharp. He could hear every wound, every noise of their apparent lovemaking. It was disgusting. His mother, his darling beautiful mother and that monster who was never home only to pillage and burn whatever happiness or hope ever existed for whatever short amount of time. He came back to remind them, look don't get to excited without me.
Don't get too fucking excited Yuu. Don't get too out of hand. He could remember every morning, that sick bastard of a father would leave. Kanda wouldn't even try to say anything. They all knew. It was so obvious.
"Watch her, Yuu."
That's all he would say, and Kanda, dear Kanda, being a good obedient boy, would. He didn't know whether it was because of fear, or love. Not for that man. But for his darling mother. And then she would wake up, husbandless again, on another trip, another filming opportunity. Kanda was a messenger to the two of them. The stupid bastard didn't have enough guts or pride to tell her himself, he was a piece of shit.
She would scream, cry, drink and drink and drink until she was raging drunk. Passed out drunk, and Kanda hated it. Kanda hated her look, her expression of hopelessness, her eyes red and crying all the time. She'd cry and drink and repeat cycle, she wouldn't cook. Kanda became mother, he took care of her. He watched her. He knew what she could do. When she was like this, the house felt even emptier that usual, when she was like this, the blinds were closed and she ignored everything. Disregarded everything, laundry, cleaning the house, Kanda.
And after about a week of two, the initial shock would pass, she'd be back to normal. She'd be cooking again.
Color in her cheeks.
Then he'd come back.
That god damned man.
And repeat cycle.
Kanda was responsible, he hated his home. He hated his father. He either came home to a mother so drunk she didn't even recall who she was, much less who he was, or to a mother cooking to much food, and he knew that that stupid man would be coming back.
"He'll be back tomorrow."
"Kanda, give it another day, he'll be back."
She was the queen of "tomorrow" and he didn't get it, he didn't see what his darling mother saw in that guy, that fucking son of a bitch. That guy who stripped hope and whatever happiness there ever was in the house.
Kanda was twelve.
Days before Christmas.
Dad says he's coming home, he called and promised, not like his promises carry any weight at all. Mother, being lovesick as she is, cooked like there was no tomorrow. She made everything, stuffed a turkey, chicken rolls, green bean casserole, deviled eggs, salads with pine nuts and spinach mandarin orange sauce. Sweet, salty, cakes with 12 inch diameters, she made pies, cookies, pastries. She went and decorated the entire interior of the house with holiday décor. She went and bought a ten foot tall tree, hung lights, popcorn, candles. She hung ornaments of every color, shape and pattern imaginable. Wreaths of monstrous size were hung about the outside of the house, as were lights.
The house looked make believe.
She bought a new dress for herself, a new suit for Kanda.
"Perfect, we'll have a perfect Christmas."
Trees, ornaments, ribbons, lights, colors.
"Everything is perfect, this is going to be so perfect Kanda!" She couldn't even contain her happiness.
She couldn't wait for him to come back. She couldn't wait for him to come back and ruin everything.
But he could. Kanda could wait.
He didn't want that bastard to come back. Why couldn't she see that she was better than him? Why couldn't she see how blind she was? She wanted to cling on to this, this man. This man who wasn't faithful. This man who slept around with his co-workers. This man who she had the stupidity to marry.
She didn't see it.
She was so blind.
Christmas eve.
Everything was ready. She was dressed in her gown. A beautiful gown that swept the floor. Purple and brown and grey sequins. Soft and silky. She was shining, her hair up and immaculate. And Kanda, dressed in his new suit.
"Oh, this is going to be so perfect, I can feel it, want this to be perfect."
This scared Kanda, he knew, perfect was always too much to ask for.
But he wouldn't let it show, he put on a good face for his mother as she busied herself, checking the food, her hair, her makeup. She wanted perfect.
Then a phone call.
Mother picks up, fingers shaking with excitement.
"Honey!"
"What?"
Suddenly sobs. "What? What do you mean you can't make it? You promised! You said…"
Screaming. "Why? Why? What's more important to you, huh? Yuu and I or your stupid bitch that I know you're fucking? It's because of her right? Its because that that stupid blond bitch right? Because of…"
"Wait, no, that's not what it sounded…Please no! Please!"
"NO! NO! NO NO NO NO!"
"Please, please John, Please! Don't!" She was on the floor now, clutching the phone to her ear, juices from the turkey on the counter dripping onto her dress, her beautiful dress. Ruining it. Her hair, a tangle of hairspray and fingers, curling and uncurling.
"J-just, come back…please." She pleaded and begged. "Do it for me, for Yuu!"
Kanda hated when she dangled him in front of that bastards face as an incentive. He didn't care about him. That bastard didn't care about him.
Kanda closed his eyes, he hated seeing his mother so weak. He hated her for being so fucking weak, for loving that asshole. He hated seeing her like this, all pathetic, like someone else's abandoned ragdoll. He hear the click of the phone, back in its little holster.
He hears the sound of the oven prying open.
The sound of food being dumped in the trash. The sound of his mother, his beautiful dear mother, popping open a bottle of Bacardi, the only kind they had.
Because he liked it, that stupid man liked it.
He could hear her drinking, and the sound of the TV turning on.
He heard the sound of the door bell and he went to go get it.
It was a package.
For his mother, from that stupid man.
He signed for it.
He gave it to her.
He read the card on the front for her, "Happy Christmas Suzuki, I'm so sorry I couldn't make it."
His mother looked at him, then the card, snatched the card from his fingers and kissed it like it was her husband. Her fucking husband, the one she loved so much. She turned around and puked, just threw up all over the back of the suede couch, the couch that ignorant prick loved so much.
She hugged the box and hugged it like it was her own child.
"Thank you, John. Thank you, John." She mumbled over and over again.
Kanda looked away. She didn't open it, he knew she would as soon as he left. So she could see if for herself first.
His beautiful, darling, obsessed mother.
So he left her to look for herself.
When he came back, she lay there. A diamond necklace about her long skinny neck, matching earrings in her ears, she was asleep.
Kanda had to be the mother again, he carried her to her bedroom, not bothering to change her into her nightclothes. He tucked her into her bed like a child. Went and cleaned up the vomit that stained the back of the suede couch.
Kanda went to sleep.
He wakes up the next morning, and it is quiet. At first, he doesn't understand why, then the memories from the night before remind him why there are no coffee making sounds or eggs frying in a pan.
Typical, she's recovering from last night.
He didn't bother to wake her and went directly to the kitchen, a large bird was stuffed in the trashcan, the oven still open, contents of the green bean casserole still strewn within.
He sighed, cursing and cleaning, acting the mother again.
He would have breakfast alone, sun shining too brightly in the floor length stained glass windows. They reflected colorful light and pictures on his toast and eggs. He would clean the kitchen softly by himself. He would read silently alone.
There wouldn't be a sound, and then it would be lunchtime. So he would go check on her, to see if she wanted to eat.
Mother's room was dark, blinds drawn, her bedside table lamp was lit, and her back was facing the door. The bottle of rum tipped over on the sheets, staining the soft white sheets the disgusting amber color.
He walked around to face her, she was still asleep. He makes sure she's okay. Her eyelids still colored from last night, her eyelashes still dark and thick from the amount of mascara applied. Her lips still deep red and rosebud like. A little red wiped on the pillow. He touched her shoulder.
She was cold.
He stepped back, and noticed.
The pills.
The pills.
The pills.
On the floor, orange bottle, white cap.
Little white pills strewn on the floor.
Prozac.
For dear depressed mother.
His eyes flitted around the room, trying to make sense of what was going on. He was sure it was fake, a dream.
He shook her, and again harder. She made no movement. He checked her heartbeat and breathing. No breathing, no heartbeat, no nothing.
He doesn't know what to do.
Happy fucking Christmas, Kanda. He thought bitterly to himself. His eyes flooded with tears, he hears screaming and it takes him a few minutes to realize it's him. He's screaming.
This can't be true, this can't be real. Wake up. Wake up. Wake UP. Kanda pounded his head, he went into a fit of rage, knocking over vases and glass and dishes. Pushing over book cases, watching everything before him fall to pieces.
He went back to mother, she was still dead.
She was still not breathing and no heartbeat.
He lost her.
His mother.
His dear, obsessive, beautiful mother.
The lady that loved that stupid son of a bitch so much.
Is dead.
He didn't know what to do, so he picked his way through the trash on the floor and called him. He calls that lousy fucker.
"She's dead."
Silence.
"She killed herself."
Silence.
Kanda continued, "Only if you would have shown up yesterday, none of this would have happened."
Silence.
"Do you hear me? Do you fucking hear me you-" Kanda screamed into the phone, but was cut off by his voice, his breathing.
"You were supposed to watch her." He said, finally.
"You were supposed to be her husband, you were supposed to love her, fucking love her." Kanda replied bluntly.
"Suzuki, oh, Suzuki." He mumbled into the phone before hanging up. He couldn't bear to listen to that guy say her name, it sounded bad and foreign in his ears.
Kanda had nothing.
Woot, yay guys. Well I hope you enjoyed the prologue. More to come I assure you.
Please Review! Or whatever suits your nature.
~byrdie