New Beyblade fanfic incoming! This time is also about Robert.

Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Beyblade doesn´t belong to me

My two scars

I should have been more careful.

I shouldn´t have cried.

I should have watched the crystal in front of me…

I was about 4 or 5 years old. My father was with his brothers in the Armory, while my mother was somewhere in the Garden of the Castle.

She promised me she would make me hot chocolate hours ago, but she hadn´t yet.

I went looking for her and I will regret it my whole life.

Only a few days ago, a new crystal door had been installed in the hallway that led to the garden. I almost hit it with my face. It hadn´t any signs or anything that could tell the thing was there. I only saw it because I saw my own reflection just a few centimeters before crashing against it. I heard the door wasn´t completely finished, it had to be reinforced and then they would paint some gray lines across it or something like that.

The door was pretty heavy, and I had trouble opening it. It took me about a minute to finally open a space where I could fit. It was small, but I managed to get to the other side.

I found her behind some trees, having sex with one of my father´s friends.

I was very young and didn´t understand what was going on, so I approached them.

"Mom? Are you coming to the kitchen to make my…"

But I couldn´t finish it. She turned and looked at me with a horrified look in her face. Her lover stood up and covered his naked body. My mother was lying in a blanket over the grass, naked too.

"Robert, get the hell away from here!"

Those words full of nervousness and anger made me think I had done something terrible.

But I was so young… I really had no idea what I had done wrong.

I started crying because of the surprise of listening to my mother, who was always nice to me, yelling at me like that. I obliged and ran away from them. The tears in my eyes made it hard to see where I was heading to. But I knew the way to my room, so I kept running.

After that, everything happened like in slow motion.

I didn´t see it.

I should have been more careful.

I shouldn´t have cried.

I should have watched the crystal in front of me…

But I didn´t.

I crashed against it. It broke to pieces. The crystal was only a thin layer between two sides, and as fast as I was running, it couldn´t stand the pressure, so it just exploded. Because of the surprise, I closed my eyes and took my hands in front of me. That fast movement saved my face from getting the worst part, but I slipped a short distance and pieces of the glass buried in my arms and just a few in my face.

The tumble was amazing. It sounded like if a bomb had just been dropped. The first one to appear at my side wasn´t my mother or my father… it was Gustav, who was my babysitter at the time and current butler.

He picked me up and ordered the other servants to get towels for me. He got the helicopter prepared in a minute to take me to the closest hospital and I got there within ten minutes after the accident.

I was bleeding heavily, and my arms burned like if they were on fire. My eyes hurt too, and I couldn´t touch anything because I still had my hands full of shattered glass.

My parents arrived almost half an hour later. My mom was crying and my father looked very angry, he was mad at her and kept saying it was her fault.

I spent the night at the hospital because one of my veins had ripped out when a big piece of the glass had cut my right arm. The doctors were able to fix it and stop the hemorrhage, but I was still under surveillance because of the massive amount of lost blood.

I cried the whole night between my mother´s arms.

Almost twenty years after that, I still remember the feeling of crashing against the crystal door and my arms stinging so bad I wanted to die just for it to stop.

I remember also my mother with that man on top of her. It didn´t mean anything at the moment, but right now, I wish I could have that memory erased from my mind.

My parents talked it out and my father forgave her, but his friend was casted away from the social circle. I am not angry at my parents for anything. She failed as a wife, not as a mother, so that problem is not mine. I don´t really care.

After my accident, Gustav was the one to take care of me. He helped me shower; he cleaned and healed my wounds every night. He was both a father and a mother to me at that time, as he´s been like that ever since. He knows more about me and cares more about me than the people who brought me to this world. But I don´t really care.

I´m looking at the wounds in my arms right now. My left arm has more scars, but these are smaller and barely visible. Only someone who knows they are there could actually notice them. In my right arm, close to the wrist, lays a scar that is whiter than the skin around it. It is not that big, not that small. It´s just something that shouldn´t be there. Just like my mother that day. She shouldn´t have been there in the garden with that bastard. But I no longer care.

I haven´t seen my parents for three months now, but it is not even close to the largest amount of time I have spent without them. Even though they reside in the castle, they are never here. They never tell me where they are going, and they never tell me when they will come. If you asked me right now their whereabouts, I couldn´t answer because I don´t know. I only know they are together and that is all. But I wouldn´t care anyway.

They are the ones who always leave. Not me.

I don´t care.

I no longer care.

I don´t care…

My two scars. The one in my right arm and the one that is never home.