Author's Note: None

Disclaimer: Square Enix owns all Kingdom Hearts related items. If I own something, trust me, you'll know. It'll be something like THE COVETED (insert lame title here) © me 1991-2006.

Rating Warning: This story contains many types of abuse: alcohol, physical, mental, etc. No, there's nothing too explicit, but there is implied sexual conduct. You have been warned.

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Relique Argentée

(Silver Relic)

Chapter I

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No one cares. No one ever will care. No one can care. So why do I try? Why do I continue? Why do I insist upon pursuing the unreachable goal of feeling? While the others drown themselves in their pranks and jokes and have their little 'groups,' I sit in my room and read. It's always been this way. Interaction has never been my thing. When I became a Nobody I thought things would change...I thought that maybe I'd become the opposite of my original self: outgoing and talkative and unafraid. Instead, I stayed the same...the only thing that changed were my motives and...well...hair. Sometimes, I look at them and wonder why I don't even try to laugh and joke and 'make friends' with them. Sure, their 'friendship' is an awkward one, but it's there, right? For instance, whenever Larxene is particularly troubled, she'll disappear into Axel's or Roxas's room. When Vexen needs a good wall to rattle off his infinite ideas to, he can be seen poking into Lexaeus's chambers. When Roxas is down, he runs off to the basements to converse with Naminé. The same is with the others...but I am truly the odd man out. The other twelve are comfortable with each other. I barely come out of my room. Truthfully...I don't feel right being with the others. Wait, what am I talking of? I don't feel. I've known that since the moment I became a Nobody. They all know it too, so why must they try? Why must they instill in themselves that false hope that one day they might truly feel something? Why? Why do they waste their energy joking and laughing and acting? Of course, I'm guilty of the latter, but the closest I've come to a laugh in a very long while is a cruel chuckle and my jokes aren't the nicest. Why must I always be me? Can I not get away from myself? That's all I want...but since when have my wants been fulfilled?

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A young boy sat in his room, trying not to cry as he flipped through a colorful comic book and fought to ignore the noise downstairs. Every few minutes, he would turn a page and ruffle his mop of unruly black hair, obviously trying not to make a sound. His blue-grey eyes slid across the page and he mouthed the words silently. Sometimes, his motions would stop and he would stare at a particularly hard word for awhile, slowly sounding it out. When he succeeded, his face lit up and he read on, proud of his accomplishment. When he finished one comic, he would move on to another. All were the same series, which involved adventures in outer space and the planets that floated in the dark abyss. The heroes fought aliens, conquered their fears, and were loved by all. Mostly, the boy liked the pictures. Sometimes, he would just flip through the books and gaze upon the funnily shaded artwork. Other times, he wondered what it'd be like if he were the hero. He had been like this for hours, sitting and reading and being silent. All out of fear. One sound would earn him a harsh beating from not only his father, but also his father's friends. On some occasions he could get away with a small creak, but he never chanced it. He never chanced anything. Everything the boy did was quiet and cautious and he took the utmost care in fulfilling his tasks. An example of this caution would be how he turned the pages of his comics: he treated them as one would a baby bird, carefully lifting and turning the pages with a ginger touch. Not once had he ripped a piece of the paper and not once had he ever put a crease in one. Even now, as he put his latest read down, this obsession with carefulness was expressed. Even when he walked, one could tell that he did not want to take one wrong step. Even his breathing was careful. However, whoops of joy from downstairs caused him to inhale a shuttering gasp of air. His back straightened and his eyes widened and he looked like a deer in the headlights. He slowly stood and tiptoed to the door. With the utmost care, he opened the door, wincing at the tiniest creak. He slid through as soon as possible and stayed close to the wall as he ventured towards the stairs. When he peaked around the corner, he came face to face with a rather scrawny man of about six feet.

"Wellook who we 'ave here," the man slurred, obviously drunk. Before the boy could snap backwards, a hand reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt. His attempts to free himself failed. "I didn't know 'ou 'ad a...a...a kid!"

"What was that, Otis?" came a burly voice. A shadow appeared on the wall to the right and the boy's attempts at freedom became more frantic. He was released when a foot planted itself firmly between his captors legs and he fell forward due to lack of support. The two tumbled down the stairs and landed in a heap at the feet of the shadow's owner. The minute he could find his footing, the boy jumped to his feet and began to scurry up the stairs; however, his escape was cut short by a rough hand grabbing his collar again. He was suddenly face to face with the man, grey locking with near-black.

"I-I-I'm sorry," the boy stuttered, voice small and scared.

"What have I told you?" the man demanded.

"N-n-not to c-come out of my r-r-r-room!"

"So why did you?"

"I d-don't know!"

And with that, the man began to half drag, half carry the little boy up the stairs. His two grey eyes were welling up with tears.

"The next time I catch you down here when you're not supposed to be, it will turn out a lot worse than this!"

The little boy was thrown into his room and when he was in the way of the door closing, he was moved by a harsh kick. He only moved when his father's footsteps had completely faded and as his own thoughts faded into an uneasy sleep, he caught a few last comments.

"That yo' son?"

"Who? Ienzo?"

"Yeah!"

"Ha! That shit wishes he were my son!"

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Author's Note: I know, I know...very short...but it's a Prologue. I just want to give you a quick peak on what it's all about. The real fans will guess it...I think that name is hint enough. Reviews are welcomed with open arms! No flames please and remember: this is only what I think his past was like.