Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Warnings: Drug use, alcohol, slash (Seto/Jou), violence, sex, everything society looks down on.
I never believed in angels. Never did, never will- though my mom used to call me one.
I haven't got scars. I haven't got bruises. I haven't got marks made by pain or hate. I have something though. Something to show my father's love for me.
I swear I haven't got any. You can check me up and down, and you will not find a single mark that my father put there.
You know... I never stopped to think about it. It's true- he never gave me a single mark.
But I did.
It really fucks you up, you know. Who knew where we'd end up.
It's like... every night he's a beast that stalks the shadows waiting for his prey to return. Every night he's the beast of the east, waiting. Waiting.
But every day he's the angel from the west. He's the friend I never had; he's the mask I never quite had the courage to wear.
I was a fucked up kid. No one knew, but I really was. I started drinking in the 10th grade. I was 15 for fuck's sake.
I smoked pot. I did ecstasy. I did 'shrooms. The lot. But I had a 3.8 GPA. Like I said, you'd never know.
I used to laugh at the fact that my dad had more alcohol in his house than water. I laughed until it got dark. Then I still laughed, but not at that.
I laughed because I was sick. I laughed because it was twisted. I laughed because there was nothing to laugh about.
I'd go places after school. And I don't mean like the arcade and shit. He took me places no one else will ever take me. So did all the traffic.
And then I'd come home, completely clean. And I mean that by both ways. But that didn't mean I wasn't the only one. He'd leer at me from the shadows; laugh at me from the doorways. Like I said, I was the only one.
I loved him. I really did. And it killed me.
It really fucks you up. Dragging an unconscious body of the only one you'd ever love like that into the closet and locking it there. Locking it there with your fear, because you knew it wasn't coming out until you let it out. And you knew you wouldn't let it out until the beast was gone.
But the beast never left your soul, though it could hide very well sometimes.
I was known for that.
Every night it was the same routine- he'd try me, I'd knock him out with my superior thinking skills at the moment, and then off to the closet.
He never knew what I kept in that closet.
It really fucks you up. So now, the only scars I have left to remember my father are the ones I put there.
But I guess all angels fall someday.
Note: Woooooo what'd you think?