A/N: I know, another story. But this one won't be all that long. This was inspired by 'Impulse' by the amazing Ellen Hopkins, and follows the same basic storyline. For those of you who read this, please don't spoil in reviews. For those who haven't, READ IT ALREADY. The woman is a genius. This and 'Identical' were literary masterpieces.
Rin, even now, wasn't sure what made him put the gun to his chest and pull the trigger. There were a number of factors, for sure. The infuriating perfection of his twin brother, Yukio, his mother, Yuri, and his father, Shirou, maybe. Maybe it was the fact that after getting caught with his teacher, Akane, and resulted in her getting sent to jail. But then he considered the third option: the pressure of perfection every single day. Football. Basketball. Baseball. Student council. Dating Shiemi, the prettiest girl in the entire school. Getting A's on every single test (he usually failed at that aspect). And most important, being seen, not heard when his family had company. Maybe that was it. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was a combination of the three and resulted in him at the end of his rope. I wonder what Yukio thinks of me now? Does he still even think of me as his big brother? He shook his head, or at least what he could in the hospital bed. His brother still cared, though they were never particularly close. It was his parents he'd have to worry about. Once the doctor decided that he was 'okay' enough to return to school. Or 'okay' as he could get. Doctor. Wasn't that what Yukio said he wanted to be when he was little? Was his dream even still the same?
Did Rin have a dream of his own?
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Izumo Kamiki, on the other hand, knew exactly what had gotten her sent to True Cross Recovery Center, or TCRC for short. She was trying to make it end. Tried to fly higher into the white than she had ever dared before. And she was truly flying. Until Eiji, her little brother, had found her, razor in her wrist. She felt the warmth of her red life pouring out of her wrist and onto the pristine tile floor. He screamed for help. Screamed for Grandmother. She wanted to shush him, to tell him that this was what she wanted, that this gave her peace. She felt the picture get fuzzy and closed her eyes, hoping for her eternal peace. Instead, she heard sirens. Grandmother screaming. Mother didn't scream, though. Barely said anything. But as she felt herself be lifted on the gurney, she whispered, "My angel tells me what you tried to do. You are hellbound, girl." She never paid attention to anything her mother said that started with 'My angel tells me'. When Izumo was about five, her mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia. She was so far gone by now that she heard the voice in her head and called it her angel. Her angel was what ruined her life.
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Renzo Shima, on the other hand, was just sick of living, period. Sick of having his whore mother bring her customers to their tiny apartment. Sick of hearing them every night. Sick of what those men would do for 'dessert' on occasion. Most of all, sick of being discriminated against because of who he liked. True, he never really had a boyfriend, but then again, he never had any girlfriends, either. Ever since his mother's customer had touched him where and how a child should never be touched at three years old, he always found his eyes drawn to men rather than girls. But he always tried to push that kind of memory away. Booze his mother carelessly let out, first. Then, pills. And once he knew where to look, heroin. Smack was hard to come by, and expensive, and going without it made him feel like shit, and eventually even when it was in his system, he felt like shit, but when he got high enough, he realized there was nothing here. No siblings. His mother got her tubes tied after she got knocked up the first time. It was never a loss he mourned. The bitch didn't deserve to be a mother in the first place. Not much of a future. He and his mom were poor as fuck, thanks to the fact that she was the definition of cheap. No friends. He had nothing, he was a waste of space, he might as well just end it. He reached for the full bottle of ibuprofen his mother always kept as a spare—a half-bottle wouldn't do the job. Saying a half-assed 'goodbye world', he swallowed the bottle in one gulp.
Imagine his surprise when it wasn't 'goodbye world' after all.
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Imagine all their surprise when fate decides to shove them together like the bitch she is.
A/N: Please review! I own nothing. I am but a poor Pennsylvanian girl.