I do not own Bleach
This is my first bleach fanfic and hope it will not be my last. I've been a longtime fan of bleach, just never felt like writing a fanfic for it. Writer's block has been very annoying so I decided to write whatever comes to mind. Review please. Hope it's a good read.
I ran, ran as fast my feet would take me; short big chains jingled as it dangled down from my chest.
Why was this never ended?
How long did I have to run?
Behind me was a monster. It was big and scary. On its face was a white bone-like mask.
I didn't know why it chased after me. All I knew was it wanted to end me. The wound on my black was the prove.
But why did I keep on running? I should just gave up and surrender. That way, my life could finally be ended.
Why did I try so hard to escape? I wasn't sure. It wasn't like anyone would come and save me. No one ever did. No one ever care.
I had been beaten every day for my entire life. I had waited, had hoped that someday a prince charming would come and saved me.
How naïve I was.
My mother died when I was five and I had been living with my step father since. I had no one else but him so I got stuck with him even though all I received from him were bruises and harsh words. Kids at school teased me for my state of tatter clothes and how I had always been glooming and jumpy. They called gloomy Saki.
But it didn't matter. I still got a life ahead of me. I would someday fall in love and have a family of my own like in the fairy tales where the heroes always got the happy ending. I always believed so no matter how dark life had seemed.
So I waited.
And then I turned twelve. He, my step father, decided that beating me alone wasn't enough so he rapped me. I cried the whole time. I wanted to escape, but where could a twelve year-old girl go? I didn't know anyone or anything else but him. No one cared enough to help even when I showed up all bruised at school. They accepted the excuse "I fell" so readily as if it wasn't important. I wasn't important.
After a while, I had come to accept that that was the way of life. My life.
Even so, deep down, I still hoped that I would meet my prince charming one day. One day, I always thought. I would meet someone who would accept me, my past, all of me, and he would protect me from my stepfather or any dangers. But he never came.
On one came.
When I turned sixteen, while my stepfather was having his way with me, beating me at the same time, I decided enough was enough and fought back. I hit him with anything within reach that I could get my hands on and tried to run away. I didn't get ten feet before he grasped me by the head and slammed my face down with all his straight against the hard floor. I could hear my skull cracked, smell the iron in my blood as it soaked the floor, my piercing screamed cut like a blade into the dark knight. I felt his fist that pouched me repeating until the whole world turn black.
I died.
But no one came.
But I was finally free at last.
Or so I thought. How wrong I was. Even after death, I still had to run for my life.
The monster was right behind me.
Why was I still running when it should be best to just give up? It wasn't like I could escape. It wasn't like anyone would come and rescued me. No one.
Even so, I kept on running. But I could only run so much. I tripped. My body came crashing down like a fallen tree and hit the ground with a loud thud.
The monster was now right next to me. He was laughing. His hand reached out to grasp me.
I closed my eyes accepting my fate. My pitiful fate.
But the hand never came.
I heard a loud crash and opened my eyes.
Stood in front of me was a tall teenage boy in a black rob, a giant sword that was as long as his body don over his shoulder. His hair was the color of orange. The monster was down and started to vanish.
"You okay," he asked. I was too dumfounded to answer.
All I could do was cry.
Finally, someone saved me.
.
July 15, 2013