Hello there! This story is a continuation/rewrite of another fanfiction I've written. I decided to rewrite it for several reasons one being I needed a recap and a plot I could work with. Due to my unexplained hiatus I lost this story to the depths of my mind and now I'm creating this second version to improve it. I'm going to put some A/N's on my other story instead and certain other things so you might want to go read the rough the first version first. The chapters will take around two weeks/a month because I've either got to completely rewrite them whilst sticking to the original chapter plot or add/take away certain things and mould my old crappy story to fit my new and improved plot.
Maka was frozen in fear. Her father, Spirit, lay in her room with someone who was not her mother. And the pain came again, not to be washed away quite as easily as the last time. It was a never ending cycle for her. She tried so hard to ignore it. Ever since she was younger she'd been having problems with it. Ignored from a young age, Maka had never known what it was like to have truly loving parents. Hers would give her fake smiles and trinkets to keep her quiet. For her birthday they dropped her off at their neighbours house for the day. It was their treat. As the girl grew older, around the age of 5, the fights started. Before now Maka had believed that everything was fine. She had friends, two parents and a home. However after her first day at school the house the 5 year old came home to was not hers.
The moment she stepped through the doorway, small glass shards pricked at her thin soled shoes. Her mother just lunged across, legs long enough to do so. Maka
was left there, glass digging into her feet as she cried, unable to sit down. Her father, Spirit as she would come to call him, eventually noticed and lifted her up, swinging her round and offering her a plaster. Yet that night it was her mother who fought for her, Spirit saying it didn't matter what happened to her. The small child could only listen at the door in fear as her parents voices raised higher and higher, reaching a cacophony that terrified the girl.
More often than not Maka would hear her parents screaming profanities at one another, or she'd find them in a silence that was not allowed to be broken. On Maka's 9th birthday her mother bid her goodbye and left through the aging door, a single letter left to remind Maka of what had once been her mother. Spirit attempted to fix things with his daughter but despite his disgraceful efforts, he failed and instead just drew the line that would forever separate them.
School was worse. At the beginning of her first year as a little girl Maka was noticeably more happier and energetic. Halfway through her first term, the child's energy was decreasing with every waking hour. The second a teachers voice rose above what could be called 'the preferred level' Maka would visibly shrink, cower or whimper uncontrollably. The other kids in her year called her childish names and poked and prodded her with questions that didn't mean anything. As the children grew older and their minds advanced they began questioning of Maka's mental state. The old childish jibes turned into snide comments and sooner rather than later, flat out insults. Occasionally a teacher would step in but the girl paled and was immediately sent to lie down. Nothing else was done to stop the bullying. And somehow, miraculously the girls grades were always above average. Studying helped her feel normal at first. Something she could generally relate with other kids to. Or so she thought. The nicknames grew longer, more horrid, personal.
Finally, as she grew, she developed trust issues. It didn't help with the fact that she was supposed to be starting a new school. The DWMA in fact. Full to the brim with students.
Her first year was alright. Only eleven years old, hair in two mini pigtails, wearing what might have resembled a school uniform. That was the first time she had ever made friends for up to a year. Two very different friends. On one hand you had Tsubaki. Quiet, shy, calm. She seemed to stick out like a sore thumb rather than quietly backing into the shadows continuously.. But Maka and Tsubaki stuck together. Not talking much, just conveying their thoughts to each other. Then there was Death the Kid.
Maka knew Kid had 'problems'. Everyone did. The most prominent was his OCD. His desire and obsession for perfect symmetry was eerie and off-putting. He refused to negotiate with anybody on the matter. His father was the principal of the school and even he couldn't handle his son. Maka knew there were many things she was missing. If she had to guess she'd say insomnia or anxiety. For many reasons Kid was bullied. As was Maka and Tsubaki. Kid was easy to set off for some quick fun. A hair out of place, a small fleck of paint on his otherwise immaculate suit. Maka and Tsubaki were comic relief for those who enjoyed making people cry and cower in fear. They would threaten Maka, push her up against the lockers and demand she do their work. If refused they resorted to screaming and shouting and yelling. She'd cave in on the floor, unable to breath properly, unable to call for help. Often she'd pass out.
Tsubaki was given worse treatment. She was thrown around, forced to date older males as she herself was quite pretty in the right situation. Aside from the bullying she suffered at school her parents were often away for short periods of time leaving Tsubaki in the care of her older brother. Tsubaki's brother abused and used her in ways that such a fragile mind could cope with.
Then came second year. Maka was looking for somewhere other than her own home to stay, due to her dads tendencies to forget she existed. She'd stay out later to complete a set of homework or revise by herself but by doing this, her father seemed to be blocking her more than ever. She was no longer constantly there. Spirit began to to see no reason to supply Maka with everything a child needed. He rarely spent money on food that would surpase his eating requirements and often used Maka's bedroom as a playground. Yet this wasn't an innocent childlike setting. Sometimes he refused to answer the door or stayed out late and entered through the backdoor so he wouldn't alert his daughter of his presence.
Another thing was the depression. As you do, Maka realised things she'd been too naive to see before. Her mother had left her for good, her father would never acknowledge her full existence, her only friends had both left her and her memories were slowly weaving lies in her head – rewriting themselves to lock away some of the pain. Soon enough, Maka was alone again.
Age thirteen was when it got extremely bad. The bullies got worse, now that there was only one target. She spent many nights holed up in the library, not wanting to face her father, resulting in him bringing more women and overall, neglecting his duties as a parent.
Submerging herself in books, reality became distorted. She began to be violent and jumpy. The real world was rapidly dissolving and Maka did nothing to stop it. Due to an innocent mistake Maka had been required to wear short sleeves. Everyone saw the pale blemishes that stood out against her sickly skin but no one dared try to help her. They couldn't they wouldn't, it all meant the same to the young teenage girl.
It was on a Friday. Maka had sheepishly grinned at the few students who bothered to study and had answered a question in class. It was a miracle, astonishing to many people. The girl had sat in a nice public place at break where the bullies couldn't get her without being broadcasted to the whole school. 'Cause I give you all of me. And you give me all of you. Maka vaguely recognised the song but she didn't know where it came from. She slowly moulded into the book that she gripped in her hands until a few minutes before the bell rang. By the time it did Maka was already halfway across the school and setting her bag down in her seat. As everyone walked in their gazes always seemed to fall on the teen. Certain something was wrong the students took it upon themselves to stay further away than usual especially when realising that the girl was wearing light pink sleeveless shirt in replacement of the dull grey ones that often donned her body.
It's unusual for you to look so normal. Why don't you just go and cry again.
Maka slowly hummed Dear Darlin'.
No. I have no reason to go through today like it's any other day and you know why.
I don't see why. After all you should help them celebrate early. They'll be so happy when you leave.
So? I'm not pleasing them.
You can't please anyone can you, you selfish brat. That's why you're going isn't it? Going to drop from Earth straight to hell no judgement needed for someone like you, eh?
Maka narrowed her eyes. Still to this day the voice was as mysterious as ever. She hated it. Hated herself. Hated everything. But it was right. She was selfish. She wanted satisfaction and she knew how take what she wanted, whether by force or by other means. And so she offered her opinion a good few times, met people's eyes and apologised for accidentally slamming into someone. And when the day was over Maka sighed in exhaustion. Keeping up a façade for so long. It took it's toll on her mind. Why would anyone want to go through the trouble of dealing with the horrors she'd been through.
As her plaid skirt whipped around in the wind as she stood on the school roof. It was raining the girls hair soaked. It was loose, golden ash tresses flying on the rough breeze. Maka could barely see what was in front of her. The school building was incredibly tall and well structured, leaving many flaws that allowed access to the roof. In her head, on replay, the lyrics from Just A Dream grew louder and louder, urging her on.
I was thinking 'bout you, thinking 'bout me, thinking 'bout us what we gone be.
Maka took a tentative step forward. Then another and another and another.
Open my eyes, it was only just a dream.
So I travelled back down that road.
Will she come back, no one knows.
Little did she know, the 13 year old was crying. Tears streamed down her face as the stress, anxiety, fear overtook her. Her body moved on its own, it's true owner struggling to fight the small salty drops dripping down her face.
Will she come back?
No one knows.
I realise…
Drawing a raggedy breath Maka smiled. A true and genuine smile. It made her look half sane. And then she threw herself of the roof just as a worker launched himself in her direction, curious as to what was moving in the cloudy fog.
It was only just a dream.
