(Hi guys! I hope you like this story! It's a bit more serious toned than the last one but give me your thoughts about what you think of it! Of course I do not own Soul Eater. If I did Maka and Kid would be an item. Anyways enjoy!)
It was not a big surprise that I, Death the Kid, was born a bit different from the other boys. After all, most boys my age were human while, I, a Reaper. It would be quite accurate to say that the other kids didn't understand me, nor did I understand them.
One initial difference between me and all the other kids my age is that they all seemed to want to be with other people and make lots of friends. Me? Well I prefer the solitude. My mother reassured me that it was a phrase or told me that I was just on the shy side. None the less, I believed that it is because I didn't really understand humans. Their ways always seemed odd or crude to me.
I have always been picky with everything, ever since I can remember. Everything from the company that I choose to the things I like; I'm picky.
I don't like many people, and the few that I do like I won't show them much affection. In fact they probably can't even tell that I like them. That's how I like it though; I prefer to be emotionless it's better that way, less painful, I mean. However, I wasn't always that way I do recall a time when I was a little boy who smiled quite often. Remembering the time when I smiled often brings me back memories of my mother.
It would be safe to say that I was a mommy's boy. My father and older brother, Asura, would tease me constantly telling me that I would only ever smile for my mother. I would respond by sticking out my tongue at them and running behind my mother for comfort.
In my opinion and remembrance of my mother she was the most beautiful lady inside and out. Psychically, she was tall and slender with reddish blonde hair that she always styled up complimenting her thin facial features and pale complexion. She always liked to dress up, which is one of the reasons that I like to wear a custom tailored suit around all the time. I remember mother telling me that how you present yourself to others is one of the most important things about first impressions and that, if done right, first impressions can last a lifetime. I recall her specifically saying to me that if you're vigilant enough all you would ever need with a person is five minutes to gauge their motivates. God, I miss that women.
Nobody knows that is the real reason I wear a suit. Most people just think that it's because I'm a spoiled white boy who wants to flaunt the fact that I have money around. However, quite frankly I couldn't give two shits about what most people think of me. I'm not out to impress the impressionable humans.
My mother didn't have a job, per say, because she didn't need one. Father makes enough to support the entire Death City single handedly. So my mother spent her time volunteering to help people. At first the only types of people she wanted to help were terminally ill people or children. Eventually, she opened her own health clinic for patients who couldn't afford to go anywhere else. There she would help them for free.
I don't know much about mommy's past other than she used to be known for being one of the best surgeons around. She knew what she was doing with theses patients and if nobody else could help them then my mother certainly could. However, the more patients that she helped the more that seemed to pour in. This began to take away from my time with her.
Selfish of me but I actually became jealous of the sick patients there because they got more time with her than I received. I recall pretending to have cancer once or twice to gain some of my mother's attention back. She just laughed at me patting my head walking away, informing me that Reapers can't get sick like that. Then she was gone again, back to her clinic.
Father was always away running and protecting Death City and my brother well we never really spoke or he was always out somewhere. Our full staff of maids and butlers would try to give me attention but I didn't want attention from anybody but mommy. I would only deal with our house staff when my father would make me to do lessons.
I was home schooled because being a Reaper I would already far surpass the other students. Therefore, I didn't really need school. My father assured me that it was for the best telling me that there was always something out there to be learned. I complied; I wasn't much for arguing.
When I was eight years of age was when it happened. Father came busting in through my bedroom doors as he yanked me out of bed. He was crying and frantic. I couldn't understand what he was saying under his crying breath but I had never seen my father cry before so I knew it was serious. I followed him quickly as we rushed over to mommy's clinic.
Once there, my father rushed out demanding that I stay put in the limo. I didn't understand why he brought me here only to sit in a limo. The driver of the limo was staring at me with watery eyes. I could see it in the mirror. He turned around moments later attempting to explain to an eight year old in the best way possible that mommy's clinic had recently started bringing around bad company. Bad company, as in patients who were addicted to narcotics.
He explained that mother had been backed up against the wall of her clinic as she was leaving. A thug held a knife to her throat demanding that she give him and his accomplices the key to the clinic so they could steal pills. Being the type of person my mom was, she refused.
They responded by raping her only after to beat her inches from her life. They thought that she was dead so they stole the key and robbed her clinic all while leaving her mangled body there to rot.
A witness from an apartment nearby heard the ruckus and called the police.
Now father and I are here. I'm not sure if I fully understood the driver's story but I understood it enough to know that I needed to get out of there to see my mommy. I unlocked the door, sprinting towards the clinic as the driver hollered a simple 'no' at me. He got out of the car and sprinted after me. I made it to the the front of mommy's clinic just before our limo driver snatched my arm pulling me back from the scene. It was too late though.
I got full view of a women who looked much like my mother but the light was leaving her once bright, joyous and determined emerald eyes. Her face was almost unrecognizable. Nearly all of her teeth were knocked out, her nose broken, her jaw dislocated, her stomach stabbed but worst of all completing her gruesome injuries was a big gash across the throat. It had been a miracle that the women hadn't bleed to death yet.
In my heart I knew that this beaten person in from of me was my mother but my brain was trying desperately to convince me that it wasn't.
The adults were hollering around me but I couldn't hear anything. The only bodily sense that was working for me at the moment was my eye sight and they were transfixed on this women.
Father was holding her crying as ambulance lights appeared in the background. She looked at me. My heart stopped momentarily. She held out her hand towards me. I reached for it touching the bloody ends of her fingers. She smiled a slight smile as more blood poured out her mouth. It was quite a horrifying smile as pieces of her once in tact jaw attempted to function but it ended up just swinging from her face. However, at the same time it was the most comforting smile I have ever received in my life. It was a smile of complete understanding. Nobody has ever smiled at me like that again. It was a smile that I would remember forever.
It had taken the woman's last ounce of life she had in her to smile at me. Her head went limp into my father's arm singling that she had passed on.
It was August, the eighth month in the year, eighth at eight o'clock PM when I was eight years, eight months, and eight days old when the only women that I had ever truly loved passed on.
Eight...It's my favorite number, or it would be more accurate to say that it's the number that I'm obsessed with.
From that day on I was diagnosed with chronic obsessive compulsive disorder. Eight is symmetrical. Everything that had to do with my mother and her death had an eight involved. Mommy must had wanted things to be symmetrical and not like this chaotic world that we live in today.
To me, preserving symmetry is a way that I still hold onto my mom. It's the only way that I know how. Plus, attempting to make everything symmetrical takes my thoughts away from my mother. From humankind, and how they are able to rape and kill an innocent person in trade of a little white pill. If I don't keep my mind preoccupied then I would definitely begin to hate humankind for what they have done to me, and if I hate humankind then I might end up like my brother who later became a Kishin. Mother wouldn't want that and I won't let her down like my brother.
Neither my friends nor my father understand my OCD but I don't really care and I'm not about going to express my emotions to anybody. I don't trust any of my friends because after all they're human so deep down they must be bad somehow, and as for my father he's been in his own little world since the day of the accident.
I felt a tear run down my cheek as I thought about things. I was standing looking at my mother's gravestone sometime late at night. Tonight was the anniversary of her death and like every year it was the only day that I allowed myself to think of and miss her. When I miss her I cry and God help me none of these damned humans will ever see me cry. At least not crying for something that is actually serious. Crying is a weakness and I will not have weakness in front of humans.
I checked to make sure nobody was around as I sat by her headstone. I was going to talk to her about the years events knowing that I would tear up the entire time while doing so. I placed the eight roses that I had in my hands on the mound of dirt that held her remains.
"Hi mom," I spoke my voice already shaky holding back tears.
"Well I'm eighteen now and I am entering my senior year at the DWMA. This past year Maka made Soul a death scythe. I'm quite proud of her really. Ever since I met Maka back in seventh grade I have watched out for her because well she reminds me of you, mom. Her eyes, she has bright emerald eyes with the same determined look in them just like you had. I have to see to it that the light never leaves her eyes. Don't get the wrong idea, mom, I haven't really spoken to her that much and she has a boyfriend. Plus she is still just a human. I know, I know that eventually if I were to marry I would have to marry a mortal but I just don't think that I'm ready to like a human yet. She is more intelligent than most girls, however, these past few months I do have to question her intelligence because she's dating her scythe...who he's nice and all but he has teased her and made her self conscious of her body. I don't understand why she would like him in a romantic way because of this but maybe it's a human thing and I'm just not getting it. I mean I do admit that I'm a little jealous that Soul is the one that gets to look into those emerald eyes everyday. God, her eyes are something that I could stare into forever but they aren't mine to look into," I paused as the wind blew my hair.
"No mom! That doesn't mean that I like her!," I screamed.
I put my hands up to my face rubbing the temples on my forehead to ease me headache.
"Okay, maybe I do like this human but it doesn't matter because she's already taken and, mom, I'm really bad with expressing my feelings," I looked down at the dirt.
Tears fell to the ground. I glanced back at the headstone where my mother's name was written. I placed the palm of my hand delicately against the stone tracing my mother's name.
"Just forget it mom. I won't let myself love another women. I can't. I miss you and wish that you were really here to talk to about this sort of stuff with," I stated getting up and dusting off my trousers.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks while I arranged the flowers on her gravestone neatly. I was interrupted when a body came tumbling out of the tree from behind. I snapped violently around. I was furious. I was going to literally beat the crap out of any person who know new my weakness. I rushed over to the tree with my fists ready.
I relaxed my fists as soon as I got there to discover that a prying Maka was the one that had fallen out of the tree. This was all too embarrassing and for the first time I didn't know what to do.
"Ouch," Maka said sitting up rubbing the back of her head where she hit the ground.
She was clearly blushing as she looked up at me. I extended my arm to her only thinking about one thing as I pulled her up. I pulled her close to me whispering to her as if I was concerned that there might be other people around and I didn't wish for them to hear.
"How much of that did you hear?," I asked.
I cringed my face right after I asked that for I should of asked if she was okay first. I'm such an ass and I'm so horrible with girls.
She look hesitant to answer but I wasn't going to release her until she answered me.
"All of it," she eventually said.
I looked at her blankly, my cheeks still hot from a trail of drying tears. This situation wasn't good, my safety felt compromised. A human now knew my past so she knew my weakness. She also knew that I liked her but she wasn't single. I felt like puking. I didn't know what to do.
"I feel sick," was all I managed to say in response.