The Puppy and The Railroad

Lio was a curious little boy during his lifetime. He made sure he asked Mommy and Daddy everything he could about the tiniest things that caught his interest. He was only three when his father died, and soon his mother turned into a bitter woman, with a growing hate for her deceist husband's offspring.

She started drinking.

She would never smile, she would never laugh, never embrace the boy who was longing for his mother's love. She would often blame poor little Lio for everything that had happened, beating him, and wishing she had never given birth to this monstrocity. He cried himself to sleep every night after his father died, his mother's words echoing through his head, "You damn brat. I wish you were dead!"

And he too wished he were dead.

It was almost three full years later when Lio started going to school with bruises on his face, arms, torso, and legs. The teachers would whisper about it, and Lio's classmates would often ask what had happened.

He stayed silent through it all.

His mother had often threatened to kill him if he told anyone what was going on at home, but the little boy didn't care. Not anymore. He hadn't for years. Sometimes, he even hoped that she WOULD kill him. Soon, he stopped going to school because the bruises were everywhere, and people were growing suspicious.

It was the seventeenth day after he left school that the 'incident' occurred.

Lio's bruises were mostly gone now, and he was in need of new clothes. His mother grabbed his arm, slung her purse over her shoulder, and dragged Lio out the door. They walked to a plaza, where Lio and his mother shopped around for a while. She seemed like she was almost back to her old self...

...but it was an illusion, all in his head as some might say.

She had found fault in something that Lio had done, and started screaming at him. The little boy cringed, expecting a smack to the face, but he didn't receive any beatings. They were in public now, she couldn't do anything. Though she reassured his horrors and knelt down, whispering in his ear, "You're really going to get it when we get home."

Then he snapped.

Just like a dry twig, he snapped. His mother had been far too harsh, and she was in for a surprise. Lio saw the railroad crossing, and noticed that it was flashing. He contemplated ignoring it, but decided on what he was going to do.

He bolted.

His mother was shocked by his spontaneous actions, and took off in pursuit. She was horrified to see that Lio, her baby, was standing in the middle of the railroad tracks, glaring back at her with all the malice and grudging that had been building up for years. She tried to think of something to say, but stayed silent. Nothing could persuade this boy to come back. Nothing she could think of could ever amount to anything to that little boy.

She knew he was going to commit suicide.

Lio just stared at her desperately, all hate melted from his six-year-old face. His poor little heart was in pieces. He didn't want to commit suicide... no, never! He only wanted her to say his name...just once...then he would come back...

"Please, Mommy, that's all I want...just call my name and...and I'll come running to you," his quiet words were muffled by the sound of the oncoming train. He had little time left. He had promised himself that he wouldn't move until she called him, but he wanted to break that promise now. He wanted to go to her, but was astounded to see her smiling.

It tore the last shred of hope he had in two.

His tears came and went just like that, and his mother usually ignored them. Normally, her icy features showed no mercy to his tears. But today was different. His tears melted away that cold hatred she felt toward him. Now she was too late. She couldn't tell him how sorry she was.

Her baby was dead.

Lio on the other hand, woke up feeling very accomplished until he realized something; something that was going to haunt him for all eternity. He had all his memories, most particularly the one that had happened most recently.

It was of his mother, smiling at his death.

He was broken. Just like shards of glass. He picked up the former pieces of himself, and locked them away in the tiny, massacred thing he called a heart. And now, he would forever regret what he did.

As a shinigami.

And now, in death, it seemed that he never needed to ask all those questions when he was alive. It all seemed totally pointless now. No real reason to ask why the sky was blue, where the cat had gone, or why Daddy was dead.

Because he understood everything now.