Disclaimer : I do not own Fruits Basket 'nough said…
Sakura….Sakura…ima sakihokoru….
I felt cold….sitting on the floor like that. But I couldn't move. Neither could my father from the looks of it. He said next to me, a good two feet away and I longed to lean on him, to touch him, anything! But I couldn't move. Not while those cold hard eyes stared at me from across the room. The eyes stared at me with fake indifference. I say fake because somehow I knew he had more interest in me than he let on. And that fact….frightened me. Did it frighten my Dad too? His head was bowed slightly, as was my own, yet I chanced a glance at him. Maybe in hope that he would look at me back, see the fear in my eyes and take me way from this horrible place. But he didn't. He continued to stare unseeing at the tatami floor. His dark raggedy hair cascading down his pale, unshaven face, so much different from my own. He looked a mess…like his always looked….since Mom left. That's why we were here, I guess…because she wasn't…
"It's amazing….." a soft deep voice whispered from mouth of the cold eyes. "She much uglier than I thought she would be…"
I felt my hand tighten into fist in anger. I glanced at my father again, this time mentally pleading for him to protect me against further verbal abuse. But…he didn't. He said nothing….
"Though it is no surprise considering what her mother was…"
The glossy spiral curls of my ebony black hair wiped from my face as I threw my head up in rage. I glared at him with as much hate I as I could muster, my teeth clenched and my dark eyes heated. He then smiled at me…or more like smirked and raised a fragile looking hand to his mouth has he began to chuckle lightly.
"A demon…" he concluded "she looks just like…a demon.."
I should have slapped that grin right off his face! I should've…done a lot of things. But I didn't. I just sat there, just like my stupid father, and let the young sickly man before us continue his abusive rant, about me….about my mother. Because she was black…..and I was only half a Sohma…..
