Rose In A Concrete World - Prologue
Disclaimer: I don't own Love Hina at the moment…Whether my master plan of a hostile takeover works or not is yet to be determined ; )
"Oh please! Don't start...not again," she begged. "Please don't scream." However, the voices went on, permeating through the wooden house from the floor below.
"Why do you always have to be such a nagging bitch?" he hollered across the room. Rising from his seat at the dining table, he slammed the morning news on the table in frustration. "I am earning all the money in this family, and all you're doing is squandering it all on your bloody business. I pay for the grocery; I pay for the rent; I am making a life for our daughter!"
She cringed at each sentence. Each one hurting more than the last. She curled into a little ball on her bed, trying desperately to fall asleep again before it started again, or to wake from whatever terrible nightmare she was in. She did not want to hear any more...yet the voices continued from below...
"Don't you dare bring her into this, you bastard!" she spat back, her voice breaking from the tears that rolled unabashed from her cheeks. "This has nothing to do with her. How can you of all people make a life for our daughter? All you care about is your business. You NEVER have any time for her!" Her tears and hate at that particular moment prevented her from saying the rest of the sentence: 'you never have any time for me…'
"Please...no more," she begged. "Stop it!" She lifted her pillow above her head, and covered her ears to kill the sceaming. "Stop it...please..." Yet it didn't work...it never worked.
That last comment had hurt deeply. He knew he hadn't been spending enough time with his family, least of all his daughter; he knew it and cursed his current deadlines everyday. 'She just HAD to bring that up. She has no idea what I have to get through to put food on the table.' He felt his anger boil through.
"You think I don't know that? You think I don't realise every time I work overtime that I could be there for her? I have to work overtime because it costs us that much to live! At least I'm contributing to the household instead of taking from it. You keep taking money from what could go towards our daughter's future to fund your stupid sleaze bar!"
Realising the futility of her situation, she cried, trying to drown out the sound through her own tears...yet to no avail.
That did it, she did not care anymore. He had just pushed her beyond her limits. Consequences became something that could be considered sometime later. "It is NOT a fucking sleaze bar! Business is ALWAYS slow at this time of year. I need some way to make ends meet some months -"
"Some? Some?" The word sounded foreign to him at that moment. "The last time you had made a profit was three years ago! You barely ever break even and end up taking more than you give."
"Please stop fighting." Her prayer went unheard as with all her previous prayers. They always fought nowadays. A day without any screaming at all was a godsend that she cherished. Her tears stained her bed, as she tried to bury herself deeper into the bed, curling as she went, to become small enough to go unnoticed by the pain that haunted her. However, it, as with all her other attempts, failed.
Her voice had now become a low croaky voice from the tears and the crying, yet that didn't stop her from trying to match the volume of his yelling. "That's what's wrong with you. All you can think of is your stupid money. 'I give this, I do that'; that's all you have to say?" She was beyond rage. All the months of pain came to the surface. She wouldn't hold back this time. She would tell him exactly how she felt - there would be no pulling of punches this time. "Does our girl mean nothing to you?"
His red face grew darker with every word. Closing the distance between them quicker than he could think, he let the great ventriloquist, rage, take over. The sound of the slap reverberated around the room, soon thereafter joined by the sound of her crashing to the floor. Slapping her had felt good - almost too good.
"No!" she cried. The sound of the slap floated through the wooden flooring to her ears as clear as if the slap happened next to her. She had heard enough of them in the last two weeks to know which cheek had been hit. "No hitting...please don't hit...don't scream...just stop...STOP!"
She covered her slapped cheek with a hand - not surprised at the hit at all. Her tears started again, streaking down her face again, as she lay there holding her cheek. "Yes! That's right! Hit me! Hit me again! Beat me till I die!" Her breath came out in little gasps as her body shook in spasms of sobs. "Atleast I'll be free of you!" The slap itself could be considered mild compared to what had occured within the last few months, though the abuse had accelerated within the last few weeks. It would seem that she would be hit every day - she had just taken it in stride as a daily occurrence now.
"Don't you ever say that I don't love my daughter!" he hissed.
"SHUT UP! Both of you!" The intrusion of the newcomer to the argument stunned both into complying with the order. The little girl looked on - her face tear-streaked, her heart broken. Finally, needing release - needing an escape from the pain - she had run out of her room into the fray. "Please.." she begged. "No more..."
The shock was written clearly on the faces of both - guilt soon followed. However, that was not enough, she needed to be free from the scene - to clear her head; to leave; to stop the pain. 'I cause too much pain. Gomenesai, I did not mean to.' She bolted past the frozen parents, out into the open; into freedom.
"Shinobu, stop...Please don't go!" Her mother's call went unheard as she turned the final corner round the door, and ran just beyond earshot.
Emancipation was overrated. She still felt the hurt, the anger. They did not leave her...but alteast her parents would be happier without her. She was the cause of their pain. She knew it. They hid it from her; they even told her numerous times it wasn't her fault, but she was sick of it - sick of it all. No more lying, no more screaming, no more hate...no more pain. She didn't know where she was going - she didn't care. She just ran.
I'll update this one depending on the response I get. If it's good, then I should update faster. Happy New Year everyone. Click the purple "Go" button before you leave. Also, if you can be bothered, email me any corrections that need to be made - spelling or otherwise.