Summery: A newly sixteen-year-old Elysia reflects on her life.
Disclaimer: Not mine. I don't really like FMA anyways so why would I want to own it...?
AN: I wrote this REALLY quick for a FMA obsessed buddy so if the facts are wrong I don't give a rats ass. NO FLAMES! I HAVE A VERY FRAGIL EGO!!!!
Another AN: Wrote this for you Jill-Bean.
Today I turn sixteen years old. Sweet sixteen. What a load of crap. Sweet sixteen my
ass. What's so damn sweet about it?
The colonel said 'it's the star of a new chapter' in my life. That 'all new opportunities
will come to me'. He sounded like a fogey. He always talks like that around me. Shoots some
bull, tries to act like my dad. Gives me the same damn advice every time he sees me. 'Go see
your family','get together with your family'. The State's my family.
The Elric brothers were here to wish me a happy birthday. I hate birthdays. They just
remind me that I've been alone another year. But Ed and Al are usual pretty cool. They never
feed me any crap 'cause I'm younger, don't try to be my dad like Mustang or Armstrong. They taught
me all I know. But then they go and do something stupid like saying 'your dad would be so
proud of you'.
That's a line and I know it's a line. He wouldn't want me to be a sixteen year old state
alchemist. Idolising Ed and Al and not him. But how can I idolise someone who's not here? I
was four years old when he died! I was practically a baby!
He knew what he was doing was dangerous. He must have known. You think a
daughter he couldn't shut up about would be enough motivation to keep safe, but no. He had
to go and kill himself. What a great parent. Even if he was here I have no proof he'd give a
rat's ass about my 'sweet sixteenth'.
The really depressing part of that is the fact that it's true. The only thing I remember
about my dad is the day the buried him. I remember all the people were crying and I was mad
as Hell because I couldn't understand what was happening. But, I don't even miss him now. I
don't know if I even could.
Then there's my mother. She's been writing me for weeks, trying to get me to come
home for my birthday. In total she's sent me forty-seven letters and she'll probably keep
sending them for a couple more days. I haven't responded to any. It's hard to be civil to
someone you hate, even through the mail.
She hates the fact that I work for State Military. She bawled for days after I left. Kept
phoning me. It pissed me off. She thinks I'm going to die here like my father. Probably will,
too. But I haven't kicked it yet, I've been here since I was thirteen and I'm still alive.
The fact that I wont see my mom drives Mustang crazy. But, oh well for him, I still wont
see her. She would get mad a t me all the time when I lived at home because I blame my dad
for dying. She can't see it through my logic. Who else is there to blame if I can't blame him?
He went out and got himself killed and that's all there is. She needs to deal with that. She says
I live with his murderers. That's more crap then this whole birthday thing.
I'm hungry. I should probably go down to the mess hall and get some food, but I know
they have a cake down there and I really don't want to deal with that. I'd get Armstrong to
bring me some food, I've got him whipped, but I know he'd want to sing that annoying 'happy
birthday' song to me. Damn he can't sing.
So this is it. I'm going to spend my sixteenth birthday alone in my quarters, drunk, with
an empty vodka bottle by my side. This is why I hate birthdays, I only feel lonely on birthdays.
Damn, and now I've got that freaking song stuck in my head.
Happy birthday to me,
happy birthday to me.
Happy birthday dear Elysia.
Happy birthday to me.
Damn.