Title: Hush
By: Evangeline-sama
Rating: T
Warnings: Child neglect and abuse implied.
Summary: The family was perfect in an almost sickening way. Strong, handsome father; sweet, gentle mother; young, rambunctious son; and a pretty, newborn daughter. But no room at all for the bastard child. AU. No Pairings.
A/N: This is my first story so it probably won't be all that good. Still, please read and review, I would really appreciate it. Also, people can flame if they want, but I'll just ignore them, so they'd just be wasting their time. On the other hand, I would definitely appreciate some constructive criticism. S'il vous plaît, R+R! For those of you who do not understand French, I'm asking to review! Please Review! Anyways, I'm a really busy high school student with six AP classes, so it'll be difficult for me to update, but I'll try. Bye for now!
Hush little baby don't say a word
Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird.
A
young woman sat at her wooden vanity, humming softly, her ghostly
hands gently rubbing her stomach. Pale white gold hair hung in lank
strands down the small of her back and her dirty slip stank with
sweat. Blank eyes stared unseeing into the large mirror as the woman
continued to rub her belly. The gentle swell of her abdomen seemed to
fascinate her as she continued to massage the protruding bulge. The
door behind her opened with a barely audible click, a tall man with
bright gold hair and hard blue eyes stood just outside the boundaries
of the musky room. Neither of them said a thing; there was nothing to
be said.
If
that mocking bird don't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.
She
lay on the hard bed, pain wracking her body. Her short brown hair
clung to her pale heart-shaped face in damp tendrils. Agony seemed to
be a part of her now as her every muscle and joint ached and
complained. A shrill scream burst forth from raw and bloody lips as
her calloused hand clenched her husband's sturdy fingers in a death
grip. Her eyes flew open as she let loose a wailing cry as she felt
something leave her body. Piercing cries soon rang throughout
the room. Within a few minuets, a red faced squalling baby boy was
secured within trembling arms. She smiled and a flash of pale gold
caught her attention. Dull eyes looked at her with deep resentment
and hatred, a large belly straining beneath a pale cotton dress. The
brunette looked away and saw her husband looking at the other woman
with some slight disgust, but mostly indifference. The brunette
wanted to laugh triumphantly; in the end she was the victor.
If
that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's gonna buy you a looking
glass.
The
pale haired woman tossed her head back, her mouth opened in a silent
scream, her nails tearing the soiled tatami mats. Sweat clung to her
entire body and tremors wracked her small, delicate body. She will
die, she will not be able to survive this torture. The end was
nearing she knew, and lost in her silent fear, she did not hear the
door open, did not see the man standing there watching her as she
watched the tiny head appearing. In several quick strides the man
moved and, ignoring the love and desperation in her eyes, pulled at
the tiny, almost misshapen form. When it finally came out, it did not
cry, choosing instead to look at everything with newborn eyes. The
man stood up and looked at the dying woman, and left. The woman cried
silent tears, weeping for her child and for the future she would
never have. Outside the chaos and fire raged on.
If
that looking glass gets broke,
Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat.
The
family was perfect in an almost sickening way. Strong, handsome
father; sweet, gentle mother; young, rambunctious son; and a pretty,
newborn daughter. But no room at all for the bastard child. It made a
fire burn in his stomach until he thought that he would go mad with
anger. Apathetic eyes glared out at the happy father and son, the
heavy muslin curtains hiding his slender form from view. He opened
the curtains just a crack more, but the man in the yard looked up
sharply, electric eyes glaring at the young child, his fingers
clenched around the shoulders of his son. He let the curtains fall
down, obscuring the huddled family, his fingers clenched tightly
around the supple leather bindings. His fingers suddenly relaxed and
the book fell, haphazardly onto the floor, flipped open to the first
page. Today I met a handsome man…
If
that billy goat won't pull,
Mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull.
He
laughed joyfully as he cooed softly at the small bundle of pink and
lavender, while his darling mother looked softly at her beloved
children. He was the luckiest, and happiest, birthday boy in the
entire world! He shrieked in delight as his doting father lifted him
up and swept him around in a dizzying circle before setting him down
on his chair and handing the boy a brightly wrapped package. In a
whoop of delight, he tore into the fragile paper and tore open the
cardboard box. Nestled inside were several bright kunai. He held one
up to the sky, the attic of the west wing of the house reflected in
the blade, and cold eyes peering out at him. He gasped and the kunai
slipped down from his suddenly numb fingers, cutting a shallow gash
on his thigh. Immediately his family was there, fussing over his
wound. He looked at the casement window, but saw nothing but limp
curtains falling against dusty windowpanes.
If
that cart and bull turn over,
Mama's gonna buy you a dog named
Rover.
The slim hand hit his cheek in a loud, meaty slap, sending the wraithlike figure onto the ground. Long platinum blonde hair trailed on the ground, and the heavy yukata tangled around his legs. The brown haired woman said nothing but kicked him in the stomach sending him onto his back. Calm eyes looked apathetically into the woman's, incensing her even more. She wanted to hurt him so much, hurt him like the bastard, monster, demon he was. The doors to the muggy cell flung open and there stood her husband, his eyes looking at her with disbelief as he regarded the raised hand, the heavy wooden roller, and the furious expression on her face. He strode forward and clasped her around the shoulders, leading her out, ignoring the battered boy lying on the floor. The child smirked while a haze of pain settled around him. It never changes, he thought.
If
that dog named Rover won't bark,
Mama's gonna buy you a horse and
cart.
He
yawned and trudged through the long hallways, not knowing why his
house was so abominably large when only his family of four lived here
as the other family members and help-cousins, aunts, uncles, in-laws,
maids, butlers, cooks, etc- lived in the detached houses. Still, it
was fun, if a little mundane, to go poking through the dozens of
rooms in the mansion. Turning around one of the multitudes of
corners, he began to head towards the kitchen, to try and beg a
cookie from the cook. The wind carried to him a soft, almost
imperceptible melody. Mesmerized, he followed the haunting voice
until he came to a small overgrown garden at the far reaches of the
house's backyard. The most beautiful person he ever saw stood
there, she, for the person had to be a girl, had hair that tumbled
down her back in white blond waves, and her supple body encased was
in the soft silks of a pretty yukata. He watched her sway around,
dancing to her own music, so mesmerized that he did not hear the gasp
behind him. A strong arm pushed him down and he watched in shock as
his own mother started to scream abuses at the pretty girl and
beat her. He wanted his mother to stop, because she was not acting
like his mother, but more like a… monster. He stood on shaky legs,
watching with fear as his mother hit the frail girl, not caring about
the cracks that rang ominously through the glade as his own mother
shrieked like one of those mythical banshees. Tanned arms hoisted his
body away and he saw his father. He was about to yell at his father
to help, but the blankness of his father's eyes shook him and he
allowed himself to be carried docilely away, trying to will away the
satisfaction and delight that his adolescent eyes saw lurking madly
in the usually warm blue eyes.
If
that horse and cart fall down,
You'll still be the sweetest babe
in town.
His long hair shone white in the full moon above him, and his arms prickled with goose bumps from the biting wind. Petal soft lips breathed in the dampness of the wet earth. A dark shadow shifted behind him and he looked behind. A young man stood there, face impassive. The boy gathered his wayward hair into a ponytail and gently picked up small bag. As he turned, the dazzling moon fell upon the pale face. His sweet face was illuminated by the moon, his sharp cheekbones casting shadows upon the thing, almost invisible whisker marks upon his cheeks. He took a deep breath and exhaled it, a look of fierce determination upon his youthful face; he stepped into the shadows. The wind whirled through the now empty garden, as the full moon continued to shine, the only witness to the newest skeleton to enter the closets of the Kazama family.
