A/N: Hiya! This was actually the very first fanfic I wrote for this site, as well as the first thing I ever wrote to break 50K words. But it's been a few years since then, and my writing's changed a lot. I now see a lot of glaring problems in this fic that 15-year-old me didn't think twice about.

I say this for the people who wish to include constructive criticism in their reviews. I've always encouraged constructive criticism, but for this story it seems unnecessary since its biggest flaws are things I've now noticed and corrected in my later writing. With that said, I still read the reviews, so feel free to leave one (or as many as you want). Have fun reading!

Chapter 1: Storm

~ I HATE YOU! I really, really hate you! How could you just leave when we needed you? You say you're courageous, but you're really just a BIG FAT COWARD! All you've ever done is run away. Do you think running from one place to the next will let you live a normal life? I don't recall that ever working in your favor in the past. You're never there when people need you because you are so absorbed in your own self-pity. And we really need you. My Dad really needed you. But instead of trying to help you decided you were bored with us and decided to try out a different part of the country. And now I'm here all alone, straight out of the hospital, with half of my so-called family gone and my father is a wreck. A FUCKING WRECK! That's right, little miss innocent is so mad she's cussing – with words YOU taught me, you scum – and it's all your fault! And the worst part is that I thought you actually cared about me – about us. I thought you were my best friend. Hell, I thought you were my BROTHER! But no, you just didn't care. You never cared. And quite frankly, I don't care about you that much either! And if I had known that you were EVIL when we first met, I would have begged for you to be sent back and found another kid who can actually feel affection. I don't even know WHY I'm bothering to write this letter to an emotionless robot like you. Maybe I'm hoping that you'll finally understand how disgusting you are and just… leave everyone alone. Yeah, I think that would make my entire life so much better. You know, I really don't have the time or energy to keep writing anymore. I hope that if you ever have any memory of me, it will be this letter. Let's pray we never meet again. ~

X

The rain pounded against the weak roof, trying desperately to get inside the run-down home. The wind helped the rain in the battle with its powerful gales and dull growls. This resulted in small puddles being formed on the dirtied carpet and unsettling creaks coming from the walls. This was all topped off with intense thunder that seemed to grow louder with every strike. It was a night designed specifically for people to stay indoors and wait for the storm to end.

A young boy sat in an oversized armchair by the window of the home, peering outside to watch downpour ravage a small tree in the front yard. The wind shook it violently in every direction as the water hammered into its bark and leaves. The chaotic dance mesmerized the boy into staring at it, though it also unnerved him quite a bit. If a tree couldn't withstand the forces of nature, what hope was there for a toddler like himself? Then again, he was pretty helpless against most dangers he encountered. He learned that, among many other things, at an unfortunately early age.

While the boy sat in silence, his mother worked tirelessly to clean up the puddles caused by the leaky roof, as she had been since the storm started. Trying her best to do this on top of her daily chores and taking care of her young son caused her to become even more tired than usual. Her mascara had run down her pale face and her once golden-blonde hair was now disheveled and greasy. Through her work, she kept a close eye on her only son, who thankfully stayed both out of the way and out of trouble. It was not unusual for him to act rambunctious from time to time, most likely a trait he picked up, either from genetics or observation, by his father. His father, who should have arrived home over an hour ago.

It was then when the headlights of the father and husbands car could be seen through the thick rain. "Dad's here." the boy said to his mother solemnly. She nodded. Though they were both glad he could make it home safely, they also knew that he would not be happy about the storm. The headlights turned off, and a moment later the door opened. The man looked even more disheveled than usual, with his clothes and hair hurled around by powerful gusts and dripping with rainwater. His torn jeans were also caked in mud, though he didn't seem to mind as he stomped into the living room with a trail of the muck closely following him. His wife would need to clean that up before it became a nuisance it him.

The unkempt man strode over to his armchair. "Get out." He said to the child who had taken unauthorized occupancy in the seat. The child decided that he should be polite to his father. His mother had told him a while ago that his father was going through some things right now, and that he should be on his best behavior from now on. She would not tell him exactly what his father was going through, so he decided to simply be polite in general. That seemed like a good move at the time, since his father did not seem very happy at the moment.

"Hello, Dad" said the boy in his tiny voice. He even decided to gift his father with one of his rare smiles. His father did not seem to appreciate the effort.

"I said, get out" he growled, now towering over the boy. The boy's eyes widened and he scurried away and towards his mother, who had been cleaning in the kitchen (which was really the same room as the living room). She had witnessed the short exchange, and decided to respond to it with a small, hidden sigh. The boy hid behind his mother, who had grabbed an old rag and was about to clean up the mud that was just tracked in. However, when she looked down at her son, she stopped what she was doing. Although the child would never admit to it, he was a little scared of his father, especially when he ordered him around. She must have seen his fear, because she walked up to her husband.

"You should be nice to Ben" she suggested, though the tone of her voice indicated that it was more like an order. It was a voice the boy was not used to hearing her use. Her husband seemed surprised for a split second, but then returned to his default irritated expression.

"I was being nice" he said matter-of-factly, trying to brush her off and go back to doing nothing.

"No, you weren't. Being nice involves using words like please and thank you, not ordering people around." Her voice raised in volume. The boy, Ben, had lost the human shield that was his mother and compromised with backing into the corner. His parents were fighting, or at least were going to. Usually it was just his father doing the yelling, but if they were both angry at each other, Ben knew he would not want to stick around.

"He's my son. I'm not going to treat him like he's writing my goddamn paycheck."

"I'm just asking you to treat him like a human being!"

"I'll treat him and you however the fuck I want!" The father jolted up from the chair.

That was when Ben decided to make his escape. With his parents too preoccupied with each other and their rage to notice, he darted off down the hallway and into his bedroom. He quietly closed the door, making sure his absence would go unnoticed. He waited be the door for one, two, three long moments, listening for sounds of footsteps following him. He heard nothing but the muffled shouts resonating from the living room. Ben let out a breath. He was safe. For now.

His father was always the one who yelled, and he and his mother always stayed quiet. That was how things had worked for as long as he could remember. But tonight, that system was broken. Now both his parents yelled, and he was alone. Even though his mother was technically defending him, he felt he had lost the only person he could share the quiet with.

Was he supposed to start shouting as well? That didn't seem like a good idea. He had tried that once, a long time ago, and he wound up hurting himself. He didn't want to be hurt again. Then again, his mother hurt herself while still staying quiet, so maybe the trick to staying safe was something else entirely.

A bright light suddenly burst into his room, and a sudden booming sound made the young boy jump. He scrambled to the covers of his bed and buried himself underneath the thin sheets. Now that he was alone in his dark bedroom, the storm seemed much more menacing to the small child. He wished he could be back in his mothers company, even if just in the same room as her, but the continuous shouting of both her and his father was enough to keep him in his bed until morning. Ben closed his eyes, hoping that he would be able to fall asleep.

That was when the screaming started.

His mother had hurt herself, just as he had done once before. Ben clenched his eyes tighter, as if hoping it would convince sleep to arrive faster. It didn't work. It never worked.

Outside, raindrops punched the innocent little house near its breaking point as the thunder roared at it in anger.

Both storms continued on.

X

Ben didn't think he would be able to fall asleep, but apparently he did, because someone had to gently shake him by the shoulder to wake him up. He could still hear the rain, but the thunder and wind had died down a bit. The shouting and screaming had also stopped, which was relieving.

The child poked his head out from under his blanket-cocoon and saw the silhouette of his mother looking down on him. It was still night time, so the room was pitch black except for the cloud-covered moonlight that entered through the dirty window. Ben was not used to being awake at this hour.

"Sweetie, it's time to wake up." she said softly. Her voice was still a bit hoarse from earlier. She carefully took the blankets off of her son and placed them to the side. "Come on, honey, let's go." She left the room quietly, and Ben pushed himself out of bed and followed behind her.

He followed her into the living room, which was now in disarray. Objects that once occupied tables and shelves were now scattered across the floor. The armchair that he had sat in hours ago was now on its side, and the small table that sat close to it now only had three legs to balance on. The final leg was lying on the sofa on the other side of the room. The mud on the floor still needed to be wiped up. His father was not present.

His mother grabbed her coat from an upturned coat holder and put it on. The coat hung loosely from her thin frame; it would not fit her anymore, but still kept her warm. She held out her son's coat, indicating that he should put it on. He took it from her hands but would not wear it.

"Where are we going?" he asked. This was starting to get strange. His mom had never done anything like this before, waking him up at night and taking him places on a whim. His mother didn't answer him right away; she instead stared off into the distance, her mind far away from their run-down home. Finally, she answered, though her voice seemed distant:

"Somewhere where we can't be hurt anymore."

Ben did not have a good feeling about this. He had never seen his mother act this way before. She was usually a very down-to-earth and loving person, but now she seemed like a completely different human being. It was as if she was being guided along by another person in her head. This was something Ben would not tolerate. His mother was probably the only person he cared for, and she was the only one who cared for him. He couldn't lose her. He just couldn't.

His mother was already opening the front door when she noticed that Ben had not put on his coat yet. She let out a sigh. "Let's go, Ben" she said tiredly. Ben did not move.

"No" was all he said in return. His mother just gave a larger, heavier sigh and walked over to him. She took the jacket out of his small hands and began to put it on her son. He immediately resisted, but his mother held him firmly. "No!" he yelled, his voice much, much louder than he anticipated. Both of them stood still for several moments. The room turned dead quiet. All they could hear was the pattering of raindrops dripping through the roof.

"Be quiet, you'll wake your father." she whispered. Ben no longer struggled as his mother buttoned up his small jacket. However, when she walked back to the door, he once again stood his ground. His mother, who had seemingly more important things to do than deal with her son, simply picked him up and carried him out into the rain and into the beat-up old car parked outside.

They drove for a very long time. Exactly how long they drove Ben could not be certain, since the digital clock in the car didn't work. The cars heater was also broken, making the drive very cold for the two of them. Eventually Ben tried to fall back asleep, but by that time the thunder had picked up again, and would jar him awake every time he started to nod off. All of that, combined by the eternal storm outside and the car's mysterious rattling, made the journey downright unpleasant.

When they finally reached their mysterious destination, they were no longer in the rural area Ben was raised in, but in a small town. Ben's mother parked the car in a cozy location, nestled between a tree and a bush. The rear of the car was poking out from the foliage, and could probably be spotted if someone was looking for it.

Ben's mother turned to him and looked him right in the eyes. The moon had temporarily poked out from behind the clouds, illuminating her face. Now that she was finally in the light, Ben could see that her face was covered in fresh bruises. Something about them made her seem a bit more delicate than usual, though that may have been due to the odd look she was giving him. She leaned in closer to her son.

"I'm going to leave now. I need you to stay in the car. Can you do that for me?" Ben nodded, not fully understanding what was going on. "Thank you." She said, and then continued, "Don't open the door for anyone but me or the police, ok?" Again Ben nodded. This whole night was starting to seem a bit surreal, like an unusually lucid dream. Thunder struck, but neither of them seemed to notice or care.

Ben's mother looked deep into his eyes for a bit longer, before suddenly wrapping him into a big, tender hug. Ben could hear his mother's heart racing. "I love you." she said softly into his ear. Ben hugged her back, welcoming the warmth radiating from her slender body.

"I love you too, Mom."

His mother looked at him one last time, and then opened the door and stepped out into the rain. Ben watched her leave, never taking his eyes off her until her outline disappeared behind the rain. Even then, he gazed closely at the spot he had last seen her for several moments. He missed her already.

So he followed her.

Ben may have been only a toddler, but he was exceptionally smart for one his age. He knew that his mother's actions weren't normal. She wouldn't drive him away from their home in the dead of night just to leave him in the car unless there was something bizarre going on. That, combined with the unusually intimate goodbye they had just shared, made him come to the conclusion that something awful was about to happen.

He ran off in the general direction the silhouette of his mother disappeared into, which led him through a thick growth of trees and brambles. The heavy rain turned the dirt on the ground into a slick mud. Ben's foot suddenly met with a jutting tree root, causing him to trip and fall hard to the ground. He pulled himself to his knees and held the side of his face gingerly; it had been cut be a low hanging branch as he fell. It stung him a bit, and it didn't help when the mud on his hands started to seep into the open wound. Despite that, he carefully picked himself up and continued after his mother.

It didn't take him long to exit the thin foliage, and he found himself next to an expansive lake that he vaguely remembered his mother driving over when coming there. He looked around, but couldn't see anything resembling his mother in the darkness. Ben had lost her. He suddenly realized how cold he was, and how he was now soaked to the bone. The wind whipped his blonde hair at his face, irritating the fresh cut that suddenly hurt a lot more than before. He was covered in mud and water, and he felt so cold. So alone.

Then, lightning struck, and Ben jumped. The loud booming echoed across the lake, making the area feel incredibly empty. Another flash of light closely followed it, but this time Ben was ready for it, and didn't jump.

It was then, during that brief moment of light that illuminated the sky and the tree and the water, that Ben saw it. On the bridge that connected the road from one side of the lake to the other, was a figure. A small, slender figure that walked along the length on the bridge away from Ben. He had a destination again.

Ben turned right and ran toward the road where the bridge began. Now that he was in the clearing by the lake, he travelled much faster. Soon he arrived at the road and ran on the bridge and towards his mother, who had stopped walking.

As he got closer, however, he noticed something very wrong. There was a railing that protected him and passing vehicles from falling off the sides of the bridge. His mother, for whatever reason, was standing on the wrong side of the railing, her feet edging off the sides of the bridge. Ben, struggling to understand the situation, ran as fast as he could towards his mother, not bothering to pace himself to avoid tripping.

But she jumped before he could make it to her.

All Ben heard was a short, small scream before it was suddenly lost to the sound of rain and wind and water and thunder that filled the area. Ben ran up to where his mother stood only half a moment ago and looked down into the harsh water, but all he saw was darkness and the rain hitting the lake.

"Mom!" he screamed, but received no answer. He screamed again, and again, but every time he was only answered by the sounds of the storm screaming back at him. The moon poked out from between the blackened clouds as if to watch the spectacle. Eventually Ben's shouts were reduced to sobs, tears disguised as rainwater flowing down his dirty, despair-contorted face.

Ben knew about death, but he never truly understood the concept of it until that moment, when the only person he could rely on left him forever. He also realised that he had never been really, truly alone until that moment. Now all he had to comfort him was the moon, which was already disappearing back behind the menacing clouds. He felt like he was empty.

The storm continued on.