Jysella: here we go again, anyway- I read somewhere that the number of
depressed kuki fics was beginning to annoy people
Audience of delusions: really?
Jysella: yeah and since I really flooded the section with those ( well three, but still) I felt kinda bad
Audience of delusions: really?
Jysella: nope, I kinda went "oops" and then decided to write more
Audience of delusions: so, you wrote this?
Jysella: pretty much- oh and before I forget I have an interesting idea for a fic but it involves using the actual authors from the section so if you could just e-mail me if you're interested that would be very much appreciated
Audience of delusions: her email is hyayuy18@aol.com- but aside from that, the fic?
Jysella: oh yeah- I own none of the characters and yada, yada, yada, by now you know the drill
Audience of delusions: so don't sue
Before its begun
They trudged home from the day's disappointments, an unruly bleeding mob. Their ten feet pounded the pavement, an awkward echo emanating from each begrudged contact with the streets bleeding asphalt. It had been a hard day, a long day and one that had met few victories. It had begun as hot as the stereotyped Eden of tormented souls and ended with the same blaring heat offered by a heat wave amidst a roaring bushfire in Death Valley. The very street bucked beneath their feet, like so much gum, to avoid the added burden of a few pounds. And, as though the heat weren't consuming enough on their trek through Hades, they the added enjoyment of knowing they had lost. Yes, they had lost nearly everything that their meager childhoods had been spent fighting for, and the ice cream man had gotten away.
Leading the party of five stormed a bruised child, his pale skin decorated with a variety a cuts and blossoming color which continued through his nonexistent hairline. Behind him stepped a distraught boy in sweltering blue and brown. The flight cap, that always graced his brow, was drenched in glistening sweat and other, heavier, liquids. His pale blue shirt was torn at the sleeve, revealing one battered arm, twisted at an angle humanly impossible. Beside him walked a young girl whose black hair seemed chopped at a strange angle, the remnants of a braid lay haphazardly too one side of her down turned head whilst the other was torn free. She was wearing a blue shirt torn at the waste, and carrying the rest of her braid as well as a battered piece of red fabric in her hands. As she walked she murmured unintelligible statements that no one responded to. In fact, the first three members of the party each seemed lost in their own thoughts, noticing very little of the blistering world around them.
At a pace much further behind any of the rest of the team limped two very beaten children, leaning on one another in a failing attempt at moving. The taller of the two, and worse for the wear, was a young blonde boy. He had abrasions running down either cheek, and trickling from his mouth and nose. His hair was matted with clumps of dried brown liquid. The gashes continued down his bare arms and chest, growing with intensity and deepness the lower they became. Were hands should have been were masses of bloody pulp held together with bands of bale skin, like white ribbons in a blizzard of red. Each step forced a flicker of pain across his bright green eyes, which were dulled from blood loss. Leaning against him, a young Asian girl with silent tears dripping down her face inched her way down the street. Her shoulders were draped in an oversized orange hoodie but even with its weight she shivered in the heat. Wounds crying red ran the course of her arms and stick like legs disrupted only by patches of fabric. Her sneakers lay in tatters around raw feet. Black charcoal lines coursed through the drenching tears that fell easily from her shocked eyes. Her hair hung in a limp train down her back, the only one she would ever live to wear. One of her feet was turned outwards, a direction opposite that the other foot, but the gradual progress down the street produced no change in her state.
"I-Never-Knew-You-Could-Hurt-So-Much" she sobbed as they moved towards the now looming tree fort. Its shadow cast a bastion of coolness from the heat that threatened to invade their very bodies, to cook their minds.
"I know sheila" the blonde responded, unable to offer any relief through his own difficulties. Each of his breaths was labored, and a gasping sound broke free after he spoke. He had obviously broken a rib at the very least, and the hospital was not an option.
" How much further" she asked a few moments later, when his hand had reached the icy metal doorknob of the forts lower levels. Pained green eyes immediately iced with concern; his own problems forgotten.
"What do you mean, how much further?" The worry failed to reach his voice through the overwhelming pain that wracked his body, but it was perhaps better that it didn't.
"It got so dark just a minute ago" the girl complained moving, by instinct, to sit on the stoop below the door. A few moments later, through shooting pain, the realization of where they were dawned on her. " Oh" she exclaimed nearly joyously, though more important issues drowned her excitement out.
" Come on, I'll- I need help up the stairs" the boy said, avoiding topics soon to be discovered.
" Every time Wally, every time" she responded reaching out for his arm, " if only it weren't so dark, you can see the door right?"
"Um, I think so" he responded opening the door into a bright light, his eyes watered from the sudden transition and his body screamed at the cool air that assaulted him. Every cut and bruise seemed to reopen in the new stimulus. The girl beside him gasped at a similar reaction. The sudden movement at his left caused a paining head to grow fuzzy. Every item in the carefully crafted room slid out of focus, sofas suddenly moved with alarming speed towards him.
"Wally?" the girl asked as her teammate fell beside her. She received no response.
"Wally?" she screamed in a heightened panic. Again she received no response. Tears of pain quickly changed to tears of fear as she sat helplessly on the floor, little light filtering through her eyes, and awaited assistance she feared wouldn't come. The two of them had always been the others last hope. He had been there for her as long as she could remember, waiting to pick up the pieces from any problem she caused. And for him she had always helped, hiding numerous bottles of his anti- inflammatory, painkillers and antidepressants in her room for fear one of Numbuh ones random sweeps would find them. After all they all knew she had antidepressants and what kid actually the labels of drugs. No one had always been there for the other and now she was scared. Once again she called his name while shaking what she though were his shoulders.
" Why are you shaking my hand Numbuh three?" he weekly responded after several moments. The girl smiled sadly.
"No reason, I thought you had checked out on me there" she smiled.
"What and let you have my manga? Never!" He rose, painstakingly to his feet, stopping to allow dizziness to pass in several tiny movements. It was a full ten minutes before he was fully standing. Using him as a guidepost Numbuh three slowly rose and the two limped up the main staircase cursing the elevators unfortunate accident the day before.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After the long trek up the stairs and the hallway they reached a large door bearing the number three in large print. They eagerly advanced within and collapsed upon the various plush toys it contained. The softness of their brightly colored fur bit in to the various injuries of the children, preventing the sleep both desperately needed. Numbuh three sat up suddenly, her thin body encased in the large purple fluff of a teddy bear, the unfortunate by product of a dying accident.
" We need fluids" she started, her voice thick with accumulating pain. Numbuh four looked up from his pillow, an orange tabby that seemed another tragedy of the aforementioned accident, but his movements didn't match his minds calculations. As a result he tumbled from the large, discolored beast.
" We- lost-blood," she offered, the fragmented explanation the best she could put fourth. Stumbling she crossed her room and reached into an icebox. From within the cool confines she drew a bottle of orange juice and a poorly battered first aid kit, as well as a fistful of colorful tablets. Placing the orange juice and tablets gently on her bed, she kneeled in front of the battered boy and set to work cleaning his damaged body. Delicate care was applied to each of his cuts while he winced with her every movement. By the end he was wrapped in gauze and an assortment of brightly colored bandages. Shortly thereafter he repeated the process on the girl across from him, tenderly cleaning her face and cuts of all remnants of her destroyed fighting machine.
"Poor bunny" she moaned as he drew small shrapnel from a few of her deeper cuts.
Once both children resembled hippie-mummies they attacked the tablets laying on her bed. Splitting the veritable feast of pills between the two. Anti-inflammatory, painkillers, the prescribed antidepressants; each swallowed their allotted amount as recommended by the pill bottle labels and no more before drifting into deep, poorly timed, sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Morning found the two children kneeling in the bathroom, the gaunt Asian brushing back stands of sweat ridden blonde hair while the boy prayed to the porcelain goddess; offering tribute in the only accepted method. Tears never touched his face as he continued to heave a brown, coffee ground-like substance, into the bowls stark cleanness. The girl, for her part, made soft soothing noises as each wave of nausea wracked his body. Her own face was flushed with fever, body trembling with the effort of supporting her weight.
"Four, we need help" she said lightly, between his pain.
"But, the medicine" he feebly responded, turning to face the bowl once more. The raven-haired girl patiently waited through the attack.
"Isn't working any more" she replied. They couldn't do it any more, they needed help other then what the doctors threw at them when they explained their training schedules, other than what shrinks prescribed when teachers sent them in, complaining of bruises and evenly spaced cuts. They needed someone to take more then a glance at the two of them and think they knew all about their so-called simple lives. Most of all they needed the people who had so long been masquerading as friends to begin acting as they were again, instead of ignoring their existence.
"Whatever happened to being children" he asked once the nausea had passed. They continued to sit on the fluffy monstrosities of the girls room, icing shooting pains and carefully sipping acidic orange juice through cuts spanning the length of their mouths. She looked up at him sadly, orange juice dropping from a shaking cup.
"I don't know, four, I just don't know"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The emergency room was busy when the two of them were rushed in one year later. Their friends worriedly walked steps behind, watching with veiled eyes as the doctors pounded their chests and drew blood. The pill bottles they had found next to them hadn't been full, but then they were only missing pills equivalent to the number of days they had been in three's possession. The doctors screamed at each other, but no one truly listened. They watched as needles were shoved into the pairs arms, and heard monitors beep without registering the true danger. In fact they never understood what had happened, how their friends could have gone from healthy elite fighters, to collapsing on the floor of their forts after a mission in a manner of seconds. She had collapsed first and, while ambulance rounded the corner he had fallen as well murmuring an unintelligible finally as he did. They didn't understand what he meant by that, what possible could have possessed the soon to turn thirteen year old to mention something like that as he fell. And, as the monitors ceased beeping and sheets covered the duo's battered bodies they realized they never would. It was over, and they didn't know it had even begun.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jysella: eh, well that was fun- not what I was going for but fun
Audience of delusions: yeah, of course
Jysella: jerks, anyway about that thing e-mail me, I'm serious I'll explain more later but if your at all intrigued e-mail me, please! Just be sure to title the email something I'd recognize
Audience of delusions: yeah, any way read and review
Audience of delusions: really?
Jysella: yeah and since I really flooded the section with those ( well three, but still) I felt kinda bad
Audience of delusions: really?
Jysella: nope, I kinda went "oops" and then decided to write more
Audience of delusions: so, you wrote this?
Jysella: pretty much- oh and before I forget I have an interesting idea for a fic but it involves using the actual authors from the section so if you could just e-mail me if you're interested that would be very much appreciated
Audience of delusions: her email is hyayuy18@aol.com- but aside from that, the fic?
Jysella: oh yeah- I own none of the characters and yada, yada, yada, by now you know the drill
Audience of delusions: so don't sue
Before its begun
They trudged home from the day's disappointments, an unruly bleeding mob. Their ten feet pounded the pavement, an awkward echo emanating from each begrudged contact with the streets bleeding asphalt. It had been a hard day, a long day and one that had met few victories. It had begun as hot as the stereotyped Eden of tormented souls and ended with the same blaring heat offered by a heat wave amidst a roaring bushfire in Death Valley. The very street bucked beneath their feet, like so much gum, to avoid the added burden of a few pounds. And, as though the heat weren't consuming enough on their trek through Hades, they the added enjoyment of knowing they had lost. Yes, they had lost nearly everything that their meager childhoods had been spent fighting for, and the ice cream man had gotten away.
Leading the party of five stormed a bruised child, his pale skin decorated with a variety a cuts and blossoming color which continued through his nonexistent hairline. Behind him stepped a distraught boy in sweltering blue and brown. The flight cap, that always graced his brow, was drenched in glistening sweat and other, heavier, liquids. His pale blue shirt was torn at the sleeve, revealing one battered arm, twisted at an angle humanly impossible. Beside him walked a young girl whose black hair seemed chopped at a strange angle, the remnants of a braid lay haphazardly too one side of her down turned head whilst the other was torn free. She was wearing a blue shirt torn at the waste, and carrying the rest of her braid as well as a battered piece of red fabric in her hands. As she walked she murmured unintelligible statements that no one responded to. In fact, the first three members of the party each seemed lost in their own thoughts, noticing very little of the blistering world around them.
At a pace much further behind any of the rest of the team limped two very beaten children, leaning on one another in a failing attempt at moving. The taller of the two, and worse for the wear, was a young blonde boy. He had abrasions running down either cheek, and trickling from his mouth and nose. His hair was matted with clumps of dried brown liquid. The gashes continued down his bare arms and chest, growing with intensity and deepness the lower they became. Were hands should have been were masses of bloody pulp held together with bands of bale skin, like white ribbons in a blizzard of red. Each step forced a flicker of pain across his bright green eyes, which were dulled from blood loss. Leaning against him, a young Asian girl with silent tears dripping down her face inched her way down the street. Her shoulders were draped in an oversized orange hoodie but even with its weight she shivered in the heat. Wounds crying red ran the course of her arms and stick like legs disrupted only by patches of fabric. Her sneakers lay in tatters around raw feet. Black charcoal lines coursed through the drenching tears that fell easily from her shocked eyes. Her hair hung in a limp train down her back, the only one she would ever live to wear. One of her feet was turned outwards, a direction opposite that the other foot, but the gradual progress down the street produced no change in her state.
"I-Never-Knew-You-Could-Hurt-So-Much" she sobbed as they moved towards the now looming tree fort. Its shadow cast a bastion of coolness from the heat that threatened to invade their very bodies, to cook their minds.
"I know sheila" the blonde responded, unable to offer any relief through his own difficulties. Each of his breaths was labored, and a gasping sound broke free after he spoke. He had obviously broken a rib at the very least, and the hospital was not an option.
" How much further" she asked a few moments later, when his hand had reached the icy metal doorknob of the forts lower levels. Pained green eyes immediately iced with concern; his own problems forgotten.
"What do you mean, how much further?" The worry failed to reach his voice through the overwhelming pain that wracked his body, but it was perhaps better that it didn't.
"It got so dark just a minute ago" the girl complained moving, by instinct, to sit on the stoop below the door. A few moments later, through shooting pain, the realization of where they were dawned on her. " Oh" she exclaimed nearly joyously, though more important issues drowned her excitement out.
" Come on, I'll- I need help up the stairs" the boy said, avoiding topics soon to be discovered.
" Every time Wally, every time" she responded reaching out for his arm, " if only it weren't so dark, you can see the door right?"
"Um, I think so" he responded opening the door into a bright light, his eyes watered from the sudden transition and his body screamed at the cool air that assaulted him. Every cut and bruise seemed to reopen in the new stimulus. The girl beside him gasped at a similar reaction. The sudden movement at his left caused a paining head to grow fuzzy. Every item in the carefully crafted room slid out of focus, sofas suddenly moved with alarming speed towards him.
"Wally?" the girl asked as her teammate fell beside her. She received no response.
"Wally?" she screamed in a heightened panic. Again she received no response. Tears of pain quickly changed to tears of fear as she sat helplessly on the floor, little light filtering through her eyes, and awaited assistance she feared wouldn't come. The two of them had always been the others last hope. He had been there for her as long as she could remember, waiting to pick up the pieces from any problem she caused. And for him she had always helped, hiding numerous bottles of his anti- inflammatory, painkillers and antidepressants in her room for fear one of Numbuh ones random sweeps would find them. After all they all knew she had antidepressants and what kid actually the labels of drugs. No one had always been there for the other and now she was scared. Once again she called his name while shaking what she though were his shoulders.
" Why are you shaking my hand Numbuh three?" he weekly responded after several moments. The girl smiled sadly.
"No reason, I thought you had checked out on me there" she smiled.
"What and let you have my manga? Never!" He rose, painstakingly to his feet, stopping to allow dizziness to pass in several tiny movements. It was a full ten minutes before he was fully standing. Using him as a guidepost Numbuh three slowly rose and the two limped up the main staircase cursing the elevators unfortunate accident the day before.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After the long trek up the stairs and the hallway they reached a large door bearing the number three in large print. They eagerly advanced within and collapsed upon the various plush toys it contained. The softness of their brightly colored fur bit in to the various injuries of the children, preventing the sleep both desperately needed. Numbuh three sat up suddenly, her thin body encased in the large purple fluff of a teddy bear, the unfortunate by product of a dying accident.
" We need fluids" she started, her voice thick with accumulating pain. Numbuh four looked up from his pillow, an orange tabby that seemed another tragedy of the aforementioned accident, but his movements didn't match his minds calculations. As a result he tumbled from the large, discolored beast.
" We- lost-blood," she offered, the fragmented explanation the best she could put fourth. Stumbling she crossed her room and reached into an icebox. From within the cool confines she drew a bottle of orange juice and a poorly battered first aid kit, as well as a fistful of colorful tablets. Placing the orange juice and tablets gently on her bed, she kneeled in front of the battered boy and set to work cleaning his damaged body. Delicate care was applied to each of his cuts while he winced with her every movement. By the end he was wrapped in gauze and an assortment of brightly colored bandages. Shortly thereafter he repeated the process on the girl across from him, tenderly cleaning her face and cuts of all remnants of her destroyed fighting machine.
"Poor bunny" she moaned as he drew small shrapnel from a few of her deeper cuts.
Once both children resembled hippie-mummies they attacked the tablets laying on her bed. Splitting the veritable feast of pills between the two. Anti-inflammatory, painkillers, the prescribed antidepressants; each swallowed their allotted amount as recommended by the pill bottle labels and no more before drifting into deep, poorly timed, sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Morning found the two children kneeling in the bathroom, the gaunt Asian brushing back stands of sweat ridden blonde hair while the boy prayed to the porcelain goddess; offering tribute in the only accepted method. Tears never touched his face as he continued to heave a brown, coffee ground-like substance, into the bowls stark cleanness. The girl, for her part, made soft soothing noises as each wave of nausea wracked his body. Her own face was flushed with fever, body trembling with the effort of supporting her weight.
"Four, we need help" she said lightly, between his pain.
"But, the medicine" he feebly responded, turning to face the bowl once more. The raven-haired girl patiently waited through the attack.
"Isn't working any more" she replied. They couldn't do it any more, they needed help other then what the doctors threw at them when they explained their training schedules, other than what shrinks prescribed when teachers sent them in, complaining of bruises and evenly spaced cuts. They needed someone to take more then a glance at the two of them and think they knew all about their so-called simple lives. Most of all they needed the people who had so long been masquerading as friends to begin acting as they were again, instead of ignoring their existence.
"Whatever happened to being children" he asked once the nausea had passed. They continued to sit on the fluffy monstrosities of the girls room, icing shooting pains and carefully sipping acidic orange juice through cuts spanning the length of their mouths. She looked up at him sadly, orange juice dropping from a shaking cup.
"I don't know, four, I just don't know"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The emergency room was busy when the two of them were rushed in one year later. Their friends worriedly walked steps behind, watching with veiled eyes as the doctors pounded their chests and drew blood. The pill bottles they had found next to them hadn't been full, but then they were only missing pills equivalent to the number of days they had been in three's possession. The doctors screamed at each other, but no one truly listened. They watched as needles were shoved into the pairs arms, and heard monitors beep without registering the true danger. In fact they never understood what had happened, how their friends could have gone from healthy elite fighters, to collapsing on the floor of their forts after a mission in a manner of seconds. She had collapsed first and, while ambulance rounded the corner he had fallen as well murmuring an unintelligible finally as he did. They didn't understand what he meant by that, what possible could have possessed the soon to turn thirteen year old to mention something like that as he fell. And, as the monitors ceased beeping and sheets covered the duo's battered bodies they realized they never would. It was over, and they didn't know it had even begun.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jysella: eh, well that was fun- not what I was going for but fun
Audience of delusions: yeah, of course
Jysella: jerks, anyway about that thing e-mail me, I'm serious I'll explain more later but if your at all intrigued e-mail me, please! Just be sure to title the email something I'd recognize
Audience of delusions: yeah, any way read and review