Heartless Bitch
by Kin Ryu
People think I'm a heartless bitch. That I'm cold and don't feel anything. But before I leave on this mission, the one I think I will die on, I have to write this. I have to know that someone will know that I did actually have feelings, that I once cared for people. I need them to know. So this is what I'm writing to try and tell people. But if no one finds it, it will turn to yellowed dust and float away in the wind. At least I will have tried.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------
'Arn? You coming?' A short red-headed boy came running to his friend, tugging on his arm. The slightly taller, stormy-eyed brunette smiled and nodded, chasing after his brother. The two had been 'brothers' ever since they were little. Promising never to leave each other alone. The two friends had been together for as long as they could remember.
Arn was about 6, maybe 7, no one could really remember when he had last had a birthday. The same for his friend, Deng. They had personally chosen their names. Arn because it had meant 'protective' in Old Centric, a language that some shaded figure in his past had tried to teach. He had only ever been able to remember a few words. Deng had chosen the name from that select vocabulary. It meant 'loyal' in the ancient ruins.
'I'll race you to the dock, Deng!' the child called running along an I-beam and jumping off the other side into the sand. He smiled, laughing, as Deng fell into the stream that the old piece of steel crossed. Slowly, the boy stood and looked down at his clothing, covered in sand, mud and water.
'Deng! You look like some sort of monster!' Arn gasped between laughter. He backed up and tripped over a stone. Still giggling, the boy clutched his stomach and rolled over, pounding the sand. Deng jumped on him from behind and the two wrestled for a few minutes before Arn pinned him to the ground, arms above his head. A mischievious smile and Arn was off and running before Deng was on his feet.
'Arn!' Deng yelled as he jumped the other boy from behind and growled, pretending to be a sea monster. Sand flew into the sunkissed sky as the two rolled around, pushing and shoving each other roughly. The sun warmed their backs as they lay stretched out on the ground, breathing heavily.
The two boys rolled over to watch the operations at the docks. The Maracine Lady on pier three was loading crates onto her deck. People busily slipped in and out, checking this and that on their lists of safety inspections.
'Hey ... Deng ... I got an idea.' Arn looked over at his companion, smiling mischieviously. He shifted his gaze towards the large boxes left on the ground. Deng smiled as well, nodding in agreement. The two of them got off the sand and ran back towards the road, following it to the third pier. Arn jumped behind one of the crates, prying at the boards with his fingers. Deng followed suit with a different crate.
'Arn! I got one!' Deng struggled with the plank to pull it out and the two of them squeezed through the hole, allowing the wood to bounce back into place. Arn ran his fingers over the cargo that sat behind him.
'Hey. Deng. It's a machine! There are buttons and everything! Come on. Let's see what we can get it to do.' The two boys poked and pulled as the crane above them dropped its claw over the box. The gears squeaked as it roughly lifted the package up from the ground and set it down on the ship's deck. Both were thrown onto the sides. Deng quietly clasped his hand over Arn's mouth as one of the personnel walked by the opening. A grey-haired man poked his head down by the hole and, muttering to himself, pulled a hammer from a loop in his belt, nailing the board back into place.
Deng grabbed onto Arn's arm as his shoulders were racked with sobs. Arn tried to keep him quiet but the younger boy cried louder and louder, his fear of the dark taking over.
'Deng! Keep quiet!' Arn shook the child, trying to get him to listen, to pay attention. But Deng started to whine and whimper, trying to find a way out. Arn sat where he was, listening to his brother moving around. He tried to stand, finding his leg was caught underneath the machinery that occupied the space with them.
'Den sura misca, Deng. Uscof ist ... lifta.' Arn said softly under his breath. Deng turned around and waited for Arn to tell him what it meant. When the other boy didn't answer the voiceless question, he moved around and sat down beside Arn.
'Arn. What did you say?'
'I said "Den sura misca, Deng. Uscof ist lifta." Didn't you hear me?' Arn smiled secretly in the dark, glad to have gotten the red-head's attention away from their situation.
'I know what you said. What does it mean?' He shuffled closer and put his head in Arn's lap.
'It means that you should keep quiet and not worry,' Arn lied. 'That we will be out in a few minutes.' He shifted his weight slightly, trying to keep Deng off his hurt leg. You don't need to know what I really said, Arn thought to himself.
'Would you teach me some, Arn? I want to learn Old Centric, too.' Arn leaned his head back onto the wood, trying to conjure up some of the words from his memory.
'Eska tul Chicobo, sec strall.' Deng closed his eyes, content with laying where he was, and listened to Arn talk poetically in the ancient tongue.
'Distal crefta eruk misqa temonce ... erigma dislato pnucsal escille, ism hein.' Arn said softly, his own mind drifting into the darkness of sleep. He recited the old story that the teacher had made for him to learn. His mouth easily coiled around the words, voices following their own path as they flowed from him. The words slurred on his lips, his mind drugged from fatigue, Arn fell unconscious.
~*~*~
Arn's eyes flashed open as he felt the box shift violently. Outside he could hear the wind raging, its sister the sea pounding the edges of the ship. He pulled away from the side and into a corner, unaware that his leg was freed. Arn looked around, trying to see Deng in the black.
'Deng! Deng, where are you?!' he called out. The noise outside kept his voice from sounding any louder than a chicobo's squeak. 'Deng!' Arn crawled on his hands and knees to the other side and reached around, trying to find Deng. His fingers fell over an arm, Arn followed it to the source. Something warm coated his hands as he pulled the other boy into his lap.
The ship slid quickly to the side. The wood splintered as the machine's legs dug into base. Arn turned his head to the side to avoid being hit, but a bar struck him in the side of the head. Again, he drifted unconscious.
~*~*~
'Hey! They's two young 'uns here! Jeth, get a cap'n!' Arn heard blurrily. He opened his eyes slowly, the bright light penetrating his lashes. A shadow covered him as an man in about his late twenties picked the brunette up. Arn shook his head slowly, trying to figure out what had happened. He looked behind him to find Deng.
'Deng!' Arn cried out, reaching over the man's shoulder towards his brother. Deng laid in the box, the large machine covering him. His arm hung limply at the side, red blood dripping down his tapered fingers. Two of the other men pulled the machine off of the red-head. His face had collapsed in from the force of the blow, his hair darkened with blood. The man carrying Arn pulled his head over, covering his eyes before he could see anymore. Warm tears fell on Arn's bare shoulder.
~*~*~
'Arn! Arn, honey, are you alright?' Matron said as she checked the little boy over. The woman lifted his arms and spun him around, checking his torso for the bruises and cuts that stood out clearly against his pale skin. She lifted him into her arms and hugged him tightly.
'You said you had two of my boys with you. Where is Deng?' The man before her sighed deeply, wiping his eyes, and answered.
'Tha ... Tha other boy ... he died. Tha machine fell 'n him. I'm sawry, ma'am.' He pulled out a handkerchief and passed it to the raven haired woman. Edea cried softly, laying her chin onto Arn's head. She cleaned her face and sniffled. Nodding, she turned to leave.
'I'll have my husband pick him up later. He deserves a proper funeral.' She left quickly, afraid of her own morbid curiousity. Arn laid still, his face covered by Marton's dark hair. His mind empty of emotion and thought.
~*~*~
'Arn, Arn! Where's Deng?' the strawberry-blonde asked. She looked him over and gasped in surprise. 'Arn? What happened?' The brunette pushed passed her and crawled into his bed. The little girl looked at him and then at Matron.
'Matron, what's wrong with Arn? Why won't he talk to me?' The woman bent and, smoothing hair out of the girls face, smiled sadly.
'Arn's had a bad day. Leave him alone for a little while, okay?' The small girl nodded and ran off, happy to help her in anyway. Matron moved towards the bed and sat on the edge. She trailed her fingers over the boy's soft cheek.
'Arn? Are you going to be okay?' The boy under the covers shivered at her touch. He pulled his arm out from the blanket and hit her hand away, scowling.
'Don't call me "Arn." I'm no protector,' he said bitterly.
'What should I call you then, darling?' Again, she tried to rub the side of his face and, again, he hit her away.
'My name ... my name is Squall ...'
~*~*~
'Does he realize the name he's taken? Does he realize that a squall is what killed Deng?' Matron shook her head, moving fluidly to the other side of the room to sit on the bed beside her husband. He pulled her close to him.
'Then, I guess we should call him Squall, if that's what he wants. What did he mean about not being a protector?' Cid wondered aloud. Edea answered softly.
'Arn means "protective" in Old Centric. Ellone tried to teach him the language. Apparently, he still remembered a bit of it.' Edea sighed. 'There's nothing we can do. He's become cold. He won't even let me touch him. We should let him figure it out himself.'
'Why? The death of his best friend is a hard thing to bare.'
'He'll see much death when he's older,' she replied in low tones. She looked out the window at a nest. The young birds tweeted for food, but she could see one that had died of starvation, not being big enough to get any.
'Your sorceress powers? Why will he see so much death?'
'He'll be a SeeD. A SeeD planted by a Garden to destroy Sorceresses like me. In the end, he'll watch his own friends die at his hands. He must learn to accept it now. He must learn to accept death.'
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------
As I'm leaving for the mission now, I sit back and wonder if I really had known what a squall was when I took the name. Edea had told me about her talk afterwards, after she had been returned to normal, her powers stripped from her. I can feel the engines going into overdrive. Selphie's about to ram Lunatic Pandora's shields and I have to be at the helm to direct her.
I'll try not to let my friends die at my own hand, but I cannot promise anything.
~*~
ANs: 'In the end, he'll watch his own friends die at his hands.' A reference to the last battle with Ultimecia. If you don't revive them with a Phoenix Down, they're returned into Time. If he doesn't hurry and do that, they die by his own hands.
People think I'm a heartless bitch. That I'm cold and don't feel anything. But before I leave on this mission, the one I think I will die on, I have to write this. I have to know that someone will know that I did actually have feelings, that I once cared for people. I need them to know. So this is what I'm writing to try and tell people. But if no one finds it, it will turn to yellowed dust and float away in the wind. At least I will have tried.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------
'Arn? You coming?' A short red-headed boy came running to his friend, tugging on his arm. The slightly taller, stormy-eyed brunette smiled and nodded, chasing after his brother. The two had been 'brothers' ever since they were little. Promising never to leave each other alone. The two friends had been together for as long as they could remember.
Arn was about 6, maybe 7, no one could really remember when he had last had a birthday. The same for his friend, Deng. They had personally chosen their names. Arn because it had meant 'protective' in Old Centric, a language that some shaded figure in his past had tried to teach. He had only ever been able to remember a few words. Deng had chosen the name from that select vocabulary. It meant 'loyal' in the ancient ruins.
'I'll race you to the dock, Deng!' the child called running along an I-beam and jumping off the other side into the sand. He smiled, laughing, as Deng fell into the stream that the old piece of steel crossed. Slowly, the boy stood and looked down at his clothing, covered in sand, mud and water.
'Deng! You look like some sort of monster!' Arn gasped between laughter. He backed up and tripped over a stone. Still giggling, the boy clutched his stomach and rolled over, pounding the sand. Deng jumped on him from behind and the two wrestled for a few minutes before Arn pinned him to the ground, arms above his head. A mischievious smile and Arn was off and running before Deng was on his feet.
'Arn!' Deng yelled as he jumped the other boy from behind and growled, pretending to be a sea monster. Sand flew into the sunkissed sky as the two rolled around, pushing and shoving each other roughly. The sun warmed their backs as they lay stretched out on the ground, breathing heavily.
The two boys rolled over to watch the operations at the docks. The Maracine Lady on pier three was loading crates onto her deck. People busily slipped in and out, checking this and that on their lists of safety inspections.
'Hey ... Deng ... I got an idea.' Arn looked over at his companion, smiling mischieviously. He shifted his gaze towards the large boxes left on the ground. Deng smiled as well, nodding in agreement. The two of them got off the sand and ran back towards the road, following it to the third pier. Arn jumped behind one of the crates, prying at the boards with his fingers. Deng followed suit with a different crate.
'Arn! I got one!' Deng struggled with the plank to pull it out and the two of them squeezed through the hole, allowing the wood to bounce back into place. Arn ran his fingers over the cargo that sat behind him.
'Hey. Deng. It's a machine! There are buttons and everything! Come on. Let's see what we can get it to do.' The two boys poked and pulled as the crane above them dropped its claw over the box. The gears squeaked as it roughly lifted the package up from the ground and set it down on the ship's deck. Both were thrown onto the sides. Deng quietly clasped his hand over Arn's mouth as one of the personnel walked by the opening. A grey-haired man poked his head down by the hole and, muttering to himself, pulled a hammer from a loop in his belt, nailing the board back into place.
Deng grabbed onto Arn's arm as his shoulders were racked with sobs. Arn tried to keep him quiet but the younger boy cried louder and louder, his fear of the dark taking over.
'Deng! Keep quiet!' Arn shook the child, trying to get him to listen, to pay attention. But Deng started to whine and whimper, trying to find a way out. Arn sat where he was, listening to his brother moving around. He tried to stand, finding his leg was caught underneath the machinery that occupied the space with them.
'Den sura misca, Deng. Uscof ist ... lifta.' Arn said softly under his breath. Deng turned around and waited for Arn to tell him what it meant. When the other boy didn't answer the voiceless question, he moved around and sat down beside Arn.
'Arn. What did you say?'
'I said "Den sura misca, Deng. Uscof ist lifta." Didn't you hear me?' Arn smiled secretly in the dark, glad to have gotten the red-head's attention away from their situation.
'I know what you said. What does it mean?' He shuffled closer and put his head in Arn's lap.
'It means that you should keep quiet and not worry,' Arn lied. 'That we will be out in a few minutes.' He shifted his weight slightly, trying to keep Deng off his hurt leg. You don't need to know what I really said, Arn thought to himself.
'Would you teach me some, Arn? I want to learn Old Centric, too.' Arn leaned his head back onto the wood, trying to conjure up some of the words from his memory.
'Eska tul Chicobo, sec strall.' Deng closed his eyes, content with laying where he was, and listened to Arn talk poetically in the ancient tongue.
'Distal crefta eruk misqa temonce ... erigma dislato pnucsal escille, ism hein.' Arn said softly, his own mind drifting into the darkness of sleep. He recited the old story that the teacher had made for him to learn. His mouth easily coiled around the words, voices following their own path as they flowed from him. The words slurred on his lips, his mind drugged from fatigue, Arn fell unconscious.
~*~*~
Arn's eyes flashed open as he felt the box shift violently. Outside he could hear the wind raging, its sister the sea pounding the edges of the ship. He pulled away from the side and into a corner, unaware that his leg was freed. Arn looked around, trying to see Deng in the black.
'Deng! Deng, where are you?!' he called out. The noise outside kept his voice from sounding any louder than a chicobo's squeak. 'Deng!' Arn crawled on his hands and knees to the other side and reached around, trying to find Deng. His fingers fell over an arm, Arn followed it to the source. Something warm coated his hands as he pulled the other boy into his lap.
The ship slid quickly to the side. The wood splintered as the machine's legs dug into base. Arn turned his head to the side to avoid being hit, but a bar struck him in the side of the head. Again, he drifted unconscious.
~*~*~
'Hey! They's two young 'uns here! Jeth, get a cap'n!' Arn heard blurrily. He opened his eyes slowly, the bright light penetrating his lashes. A shadow covered him as an man in about his late twenties picked the brunette up. Arn shook his head slowly, trying to figure out what had happened. He looked behind him to find Deng.
'Deng!' Arn cried out, reaching over the man's shoulder towards his brother. Deng laid in the box, the large machine covering him. His arm hung limply at the side, red blood dripping down his tapered fingers. Two of the other men pulled the machine off of the red-head. His face had collapsed in from the force of the blow, his hair darkened with blood. The man carrying Arn pulled his head over, covering his eyes before he could see anymore. Warm tears fell on Arn's bare shoulder.
~*~*~
'Arn! Arn, honey, are you alright?' Matron said as she checked the little boy over. The woman lifted his arms and spun him around, checking his torso for the bruises and cuts that stood out clearly against his pale skin. She lifted him into her arms and hugged him tightly.
'You said you had two of my boys with you. Where is Deng?' The man before her sighed deeply, wiping his eyes, and answered.
'Tha ... Tha other boy ... he died. Tha machine fell 'n him. I'm sawry, ma'am.' He pulled out a handkerchief and passed it to the raven haired woman. Edea cried softly, laying her chin onto Arn's head. She cleaned her face and sniffled. Nodding, she turned to leave.
'I'll have my husband pick him up later. He deserves a proper funeral.' She left quickly, afraid of her own morbid curiousity. Arn laid still, his face covered by Marton's dark hair. His mind empty of emotion and thought.
~*~*~
'Arn, Arn! Where's Deng?' the strawberry-blonde asked. She looked him over and gasped in surprise. 'Arn? What happened?' The brunette pushed passed her and crawled into his bed. The little girl looked at him and then at Matron.
'Matron, what's wrong with Arn? Why won't he talk to me?' The woman bent and, smoothing hair out of the girls face, smiled sadly.
'Arn's had a bad day. Leave him alone for a little while, okay?' The small girl nodded and ran off, happy to help her in anyway. Matron moved towards the bed and sat on the edge. She trailed her fingers over the boy's soft cheek.
'Arn? Are you going to be okay?' The boy under the covers shivered at her touch. He pulled his arm out from the blanket and hit her hand away, scowling.
'Don't call me "Arn." I'm no protector,' he said bitterly.
'What should I call you then, darling?' Again, she tried to rub the side of his face and, again, he hit her away.
'My name ... my name is Squall ...'
~*~*~
'Does he realize the name he's taken? Does he realize that a squall is what killed Deng?' Matron shook her head, moving fluidly to the other side of the room to sit on the bed beside her husband. He pulled her close to him.
'Then, I guess we should call him Squall, if that's what he wants. What did he mean about not being a protector?' Cid wondered aloud. Edea answered softly.
'Arn means "protective" in Old Centric. Ellone tried to teach him the language. Apparently, he still remembered a bit of it.' Edea sighed. 'There's nothing we can do. He's become cold. He won't even let me touch him. We should let him figure it out himself.'
'Why? The death of his best friend is a hard thing to bare.'
'He'll see much death when he's older,' she replied in low tones. She looked out the window at a nest. The young birds tweeted for food, but she could see one that had died of starvation, not being big enough to get any.
'Your sorceress powers? Why will he see so much death?'
'He'll be a SeeD. A SeeD planted by a Garden to destroy Sorceresses like me. In the end, he'll watch his own friends die at his hands. He must learn to accept it now. He must learn to accept death.'
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------
As I'm leaving for the mission now, I sit back and wonder if I really had known what a squall was when I took the name. Edea had told me about her talk afterwards, after she had been returned to normal, her powers stripped from her. I can feel the engines going into overdrive. Selphie's about to ram Lunatic Pandora's shields and I have to be at the helm to direct her.
I'll try not to let my friends die at my own hand, but I cannot promise anything.
~*~
ANs: 'In the end, he'll watch his own friends die at his hands.' A reference to the last battle with Ultimecia. If you don't revive them with a Phoenix Down, they're returned into Time. If he doesn't hurry and do that, they die by his own hands.