Riv: Thanks for clicking the button that lead you here! This is my very first fic, and...yeah!
Ryou: RiverTear980 doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh in any way, shape, or form. Much like the state of her soul.
Riv: Shush you! Anyway, enjoy!
When the Snow Falls: chapter 1
Life or Death
Cold. The frigid abyss of the underground. This has become a simple reality for me; no choice was ever given. How does one possibly have a chance of sanity in midst of insanity?
I awoke in a troubled mind. My dreams haunted me with a strange sensation that night. Warmth, soothing feelings, yet dangerous emotions threatened to engulf them. As my mind brought me slowly back to reality, my heart was shadowed by my surroundings. All around me rested an eternal hell: a dungeon in civilization. There was no possibility of escape from here though. This was my steadfast fate.
A shout from above broke the chilling silence.
"Hey, Akane! Get the hell up 'ere and make me some bloody coffee!"
I sighed in despair. That was the voice of my tormentor: my father. Ever since I could remember, he had always been there for the reason of causing misery and anguish follows his footsteps. It was by his will that I was living in the basement, and didn't have any friends. After the death of my mother, we were left alone. Father never learned how to cope, so I always knew why he was so cruel, but the extent of his madness exceeded logic. One thing that I knew for certain was that he was unstable. His demands had to be met, or who knows what could happen.
"Alright, father. I'm coming." I called up to him.
"Well would ya hurry the fuck up? I'm friggin' waiting for ya here! Thirsty, too!" He scowled. "D'ya really think I have the patience for ya to get your ass up here? I ain't gonna live forever, you know!"
'…And thank god for that.' I thought to myself.
As I progressed up the winding staircase, the stench of rancid beer and garbage grew ever more obvious. It was, unfortunately, a smell that I had to have gotten used to. I gently pushed the door to the main floor open, and directly in front of me was my father; his red, bloodshot eyes penetrating forcefully into my mind.
His chin was an unshaven mess, stubble pointing out in everywhich way. His clothes; which consisted of a once-white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, had probably not been washed, or even removed for that matter, for weeks. All of these properties overwhelmed my senses. In spite of my mind screaming for discretion from him, I dared not look away from him.
He was the first to speak, ending the silence between us.
"You're late, you whore!" The reek of alcohol fumed from his breath with every word. "I called you up two fucking hours ago to make me breakfast! What the hell were you doin' down there?" His voice escalated to a shout, his boisterous attitude left me quivering, like the calm before the storm.
His voice suddenly turned cold and teasing, his facial expression mirroring thus. "You….you have a man down in the basement with you, doncha? That's where you've been…huh?"
He had always been delusional; even before mom died. Father was always paranoid about every neighbor, every man that came by walking his dog, and every paper-carrier that dropped off the daily news. However, today was different. I don't know why, but everything was odd today.
I furrowed my face in confusion.
"Father, it has been under five minutes since I was told to come upstairs. Besides, I-"
"I don't wanna fuckin' hear it! You're just like your mother! That slut ran off with some other man an' left me to raise you all by myself! If I could just get my hands on her, I'd…..I would definitely….."
There was a strange shadow emerging in his eyes; one I had never seen before. It was like there was a small demon sitting on his shoulder, telling him all of the secrets and wonders of the world and how to destroy them. I have to say, the sight terrified me. He fixated his focus back to me and with a bloodcurdling expression on his face, he started muttering absently,
"Just like her mother…. That broad is just like her fucking mother…."
At this point, I began to sort out the possible outcomes of my situation. Would he beat me again? Or would I be locked back up in the basement without any food or water for another week…? All of a sudden, while I was contemplating my odds, Father pushed me vehemently against the basement door, slamming it shut. My body twitched violently as I felt his tongue, poisoned by years of hate and distressful memories, running along the nape of my neck; all the while whispering my mother's name: "Amami…. Amami…."
Fear and distress were beginning to overwhelm my mind. I could feel my father's rugged hands creep up and around my body.
"No!... You-you can't! This is-" I tried to get him off of me, but the more I struggled and resisted, the more forcefully he continued.
My clothes were beginning to be torn off. My thin T-shirt and skirt, the only valid pieces of clothing I had, save my school uniform, were being destroyed. I knew what was coming next: my father would rape me, then likely kill me; as his "vengeance" to his departed wife.
I blacked out that very instant.
When I came to, everything felt even more out of place than earlier that morning. Noticing my location, it quite differed from my usual surroundings of a dark cellar with a rusting water heater and an old blanket: I was shrouded in the pale light of a chilled November sunrise.
My head was aching something terrible as the light streamed through the open window. I covered my grey smoky eyes to keep the sunlight from penetrating more of my mind. Standing up slowly, blood rushed to my brain, making me feel faint.
Searching my surroundings further in curiosity, I was horrified at what I saw: my father, hanging from the ceiling not far from where I was laying previously. His eyes and tongue bulged out of his face; glazed over from time. Near the noose wrapped tightly around his neck, I noticed it was made of the electrical wires and telephone cords he tended to rip out of the wall when he was angry. They now tore his throat and blood vessels open with deep lacerations that drenched him in blood. Taken aback from this sight, I didn't know what to do. As if by pure instinct, I dropped to my knees and cried.
After what seemed to be an eternity I lifted myself off the bloodstained floor and examined myself for injury. I could not feel any pain, but that wasn't conclusive enough for me. There were a couple of cuts and bruises on my arms, but those had been there since the previous week. However, I was more concerned with what had happened when I was knocked out. Looking down awkwardly, I sighed in relief. Despite the rest of my clothing being torn beyond repair, my panties were untouched.
I'm still a virgin…thank god…
Just knowing that made the entire experience a little less terrifying. Should they have not, I think I would have chosen the same fate as my now late father.
I'm free: free to leave this place, live as a human being rather than a slave or prisoner.
Standing, I went to rummage the house for anything I could use in my future: starting with some clothes in better condition. I started in my father's bedroom. I knew he still kept all of Mother's old clothing, so that would be my best bet. As I entered his room, all of my cells screamed for me to refrain, but my heart and mind told them to be calm. I was still trembling in fear, however, when I turned the doorknob.
Silently opening the dark wooden door, I was appalled to find the room completely organized.
He kept this place clean but couldn't bother to deal with the rest of the hell-hole? Are you kidding me?
I saw the closet immediately, and dashed up to the sliding doors. Opening them apprehensively, as my subconscious was still running wild; I saw piles of dirty clothing everywhere. The putrid stench of the filth was overwhelming my senses. I had to continue though. It was my own choice. At the very back of the area was a cardboard box that read "Amami". I reached for it, but fell short and lost my balance: right into the heaps. I gagged at the stench, but continued to grab the box. As soon as I had it, I dashed out of the closet and into the bedroom, and sat down on the floor. I fished out a red blouse and black jeans, and put them on. A perfect fit. Sighing, I thought to myself,
I'm such a terrible daughter… Stealing and leaving my father to rot…as much as he deserved it, this is almost too much…
I knew I couldn't wait around for much longer. In South Domino, there were strange people everywhere, and it wasn't safe. Leaving father's bedroom, I walked slowly towards the front door. I took one last look around, and left forever.
A/N: Mwahahaha! BTW: the "south Domino" is from Fiver's "Homecoming" Don't flame me, I credit!
Ryou: Hey, where am I?
Riv: Be patient! *evil smirk*
Ryou: ehhh... *runs away*
Riv: NOES! *lassos Ryou back* I win! Be sure to review! I need tips on how to improve my writing! I also take requests for plot devices if you want to send 'em! As long as Yami Bakura doesn't eat it again, real CANADIAN maple syrup and homemade pancakes to everyone who reviews!
Bakura: I make no promises, mortal.