UnknownA/N: Ok, so my first FMA fanfiction, so be nice. I got the idea from reading a TON of other fanfictions when the fangirl enters the story and everyone falls in love and she knows all the secrets... But what if the person had no idea, whatsoever as to what was happening? Where she was? Anything? Or maybe she hated where she was? It would be Hella interesting. I didn't see any fics about this so I went ahead and explored. Hope it doesn't suck too badly. This first chapter is a bit slow, but keep in mind, please, that this is just the introduction. It should get better.Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the OCs and the idea.OoOoOoOoOoO
When I was young, my sister fell in love with an anime character. I know, it sounds simple, not really all that unusual. Like having a crush on any character. Almost everyone's had one. You watch them grow and change and fear for their lives, your happy when they're happy and worried when their sad. But eventually, when the story is done and over, and your crush has either met his untimely death or found true love by fate's hand, you sigh and move on, knowing that those few fantasies will never come true. But not my sister. She didn't let go when the anime was over. No, it was restarted, over and over and over again. She cried when she cried and laughed when she laughed and knew all of her lines by heart. She was jealous of the partner most people paired her with and a few times went so far as to threaten to destroy the other character. She drew her on everything and had one of the other character's theme songs on at all times, just to remind her of her. She had recordings of their voice and listened to them as she fell asleep. She loved that character with all her heart.
I suppose that it would not have been as impactful if the character had been male, or even sounded or looked male. Or maybe if she hadn't looked just a bit too much like me.
It scared me at first, my sister's obsession, and it scared her friends too. She went to school humming under her breath that song and always was doodling her face, her uniform, her gun, even, on every paper she was given. She talked to thin air like it was her. Whether she was pretending or actually thought that the character was there, I never knew.
It was hard for my eight year old self to deal with my sixteen year old sister, given the age difference between us. But I got through it. I clung to my sister with all my might, and in turn she watched out for me. She was kind and loving, to an extent, but I could tell she liked her character better. Sometimes it felt she was replacing me with her, since from what I remember, we looked rather similar. It was true that eventually she did.
It was much the same with my thirteen year old brother and his twin. They protected me, but we were different. They much preferred their show to the real world. Neither were as obsessed with it as my sister, but they enjoyed it quite a bit more than the average person. We'll just say that there were anime posters and pictures and sounds in my house.
And so I grew to hate that anime with a passion. I never once watched it. Never did I partake in the many conversations about it. I blocked it all out.
I took the role of the odd child, the one not quite like the rest. I stayed away from my brothers and sister as much as I could without making them think I hated them. I didn't set foot in the theater room when they were watching it. I stayed in my room and read.
My parents blamed themselves. They said that they should have had another kid that was closer to my age, but I knew that that would not have mattered. I was different from the other children, and I understood and clung to that fact like a life preserver. It was me, it was who I was. Different.
I do not exactly remember that character's name anymore, nor can I still remember the exact details of her face. Even with hard concentration, I can't recall even the name of the anime that dominated the better part of my family life. But what memories I did not manage to block out, stay tied to my sister. They are still here, six years later, waiting.
For how much longer, I do not know. I can only hope that the pain I feel when thinking of either will fade with the passing of time.
But time moves slowly for me, even when I beg it to run along on its merry way. It drags on through the hours, making each day an eternity and a half and driving me insane.
I open my eyes every morning to the sound of yelling and screaming, though I always hope not to. My parents have fought since that day, the day the first hole opened in my life.
It hurts to think about it.
But then, I haven't needed an alarm clock for years, since this works so much better. I'm never late because I've overslept.
Blocking out the sound of their morning fight, I stretch and look around my clothes-strewn room hoping to dear God that today wasn't the day the cleaning ladies were coming. My fuzzy mind recognizes the calendar on the wall and quickly runs the numbers to assure me that it was a Thursday, not a Friday. I don't have to worry 'till later.
But the fact that is a Thursday sent waves of pain up my already aching body. Thursday is one of his days.
Suddenly, that fact makes my bed feel very warm and inviting and I have no urge to leave it. I want to stay in it forever, just staring at the white ceiling. I wouldn't have to go to school and listen to another day of too-easy classes, or practice the stupid violin until my fingers hurt. I wouldn't have to see him.
But I know that I must get up. I must get up, I must practice and that I wouldn't ever be able to avoid him. So I do. I pull my sheets off slowly, flinching at the sight of my legs. I swing them over the side of the bed and ease my feet onto the cold floor. Clutching my dizzy head, I stumble to my attached bathroom and clumsily find the bottle of Advil. Shaking slightly, I get out two of the thin, red pills and stare at them before getting out a third. I grab my cup and fill it up halfway, before popping the wonder pills in my mouth and rinsing them down with the water. Ah. May God bless the creator of such a wonderful thing.
I turn back to my room, scanning the floor for any clean clothes. There are none, so I trudge over to my closet and pull down another one of my usual long sleeved shirts. This one is a light gray with "Love" written on it diagonally with nice deep blue cursive. I grab a pair of dark artistically weathered jeans and throw them on, along with the shirt and a white camisole. It wouldn't do for anything to show. I grab my brush and run it through my hair, careful not to pull too hard, before quickly doing a diagonal French braid along the back. A blue ribbon at the end ties it all off nicely. Looking in the mirror, I find a girl who smiles pleasantly and looks every inch the daughter of a pair of wealthy actors. It will do for today.
Glancing around my messy room once more, I quickly turn off my bedside table lamp and grab the book that I'm currently reading. I step into the hallway, gently closing the door behind me. My parents have stopped fighting for now, and the sound of running water can be heard. My father is probably showering while my mother does her hair. Now is my chance to get breakfast without having to listen to them yell at each other or dodge flying cornflakes.
By the time I get downstairs, Mitchel has made me toast with jam and a plate of scrambled eggs. I thank him softly and he smiles back kindly. Something crashes into a wall upstairs and the cook and I roll our eyes.
"I guess they're at it again," he says. I nod. It was nothing new. At least we have the money to pay for any damage and they are careful not to hurt each other too badly. Knowing that the fact that things are flying means my time is almost up, I gobble up the eggs and start shoving pieces of toast down my throat. Mitchel sends me a glare.
"Are you enjoying that, child? Stuffing your face? Food is meant to be savored." I stick my tongue out at him and eat another piece the same way, just to be annoying. He throws up his hands and mutters in French.
"I take pride in my ability to be absolutely infuriating, thank you!" I exclaim, responding to his mutterings. He stares at me for a second before scowling. He had forgotten that I know French. Darn private school. I hate it when I find a reason to love you.
I laugh and get my bag from below the breakfast counter. I don't have much time. "See you later Mitchel. Have a nice day." I pause. "Oh, and what's for lunch?"
"Spaghetti and meatballs. I'll have it brought in at the same time as always?" I nod.
"I'll probably be in the music room, but if I change my plans, I'll text you." I smile and wave good bye. I almost make it out of the house before my parents come waltzing down the stars like twenty year old newlyweds. They're holding hands. Mitchel and I roll our eyes and I try to sneak out without them noticing me. But, as usual, I'm not that lucky.
"Faye, wait a second," my mother calls. "Your father and I are working at that anime place again, so we'll probably go out for dinner or something tonight." God, I hate anime. I groan.
"Ok, Mom. Fine. Have a nice day." I turn and quickly walk out of the door before she or Father can stop me.
Outside, I take a deep breath and wipe off my fake smile. I wave off my driver and fetch my scooter from the garage. I have the time and need to think. A I scooter through my wealthy neighborhood, my classmates wave and a few join me, walking or biking instead of taking one of their cars to school./ We make small talk, but in a community like this, news travels fast and we already know most everything about each other. We've almost all been in the same class since pre-K anyways.
By the time our group has arrived at school, it's only 7:45 and we still have half an hour to kill before homeroom. While everyone else goes around the campus looking for something to fool around at, I go alone to the library.
The librarians wave as I enter and I wave back silently before going to my corner and opening my book. The half an hour passes quickly and soon I'm rushing to homeroom.
"Glad you could join us, Miss Faye. Take your seat, you're just in time." The teacher sends me a pointed look and I mumble an apology and excuse under my breath. I'm not technically late, so she can't mark me down. I sit down and go on my way into my happy place, successfully ignoring everything around me. The teachers don't care anymore, they know I will always have the right answer. They don't bother me.
And so the day passes. Homeroom, Geometry, Honors English… Subjects fly around and I swat at them telling them to "Go away, I already know you." Orchestra comes and goes as well as lunch and the first three periods of my afternoon. By the time I resurface from my happy place, It's the break before my last period.
My last period is P.E. It's the only time in school that I see hi,. We'll see each other later, but no one here knows that. Despite being a private school, P.E. is co-ed. Sure, we do out health classes separately and we don't have out swimming units together, but everything else? Boys and girls playing football together, soccer together, even wrestling together. I'm surprised they haven't gotten sued.
"Hey, stupid. Will I be seeing you again later?" He spits as he hisses into my ear, causing me to flinch. It wasn't really a question, but I nod anyway. I wouldn't dare say no, not after last time. He grins evilly and stalks off to his friends. The heat of the suddenly disappears and I shiver. The rest of the period (Soccer, ugh.) is spent looking over my shoulder, making sure that he isn't there. The final bell rings and I let out a sigh. I have fifteen minutes to get to the spot so that I'm there before he is. I run. I run as fast as I can. Not like my life depends on it, but because it does. It does depend on it. He's killed before. He'd do it again. He killed my-
Don't think about it.
I wait at the spot for almost half an hour before he walks up, not looking the least bit happy. Edgar Estevan could be called a handsome boy. His light blonde hair is a bit longer than his shoulders, though he like to war it in a tail. His eyes are such a light brown that it could almost be called golden and his gait is a bit uneven from a childhood accident. He's also a sadist and I was lucky enough to be his plaything. I had been hoping that today would be an easy day, maybe a bruise or two and they'd be done- nothing serious. But it looks like that won't be happening.
As he approaches, I take in the fierce light in his eyes, the wrinkled brow. He was angry. Very, very angry.
"You told, didn't you," he spits out. I freeze. He thought I had told someone about this? After what happened?
"Was last time not enough? Huh? Answer me" I flinch, but stay silent. Anything I say now will only make it worse. Take it in silence. He scowls harder at me.
"I think it's time we taught you another lesson. Maybe you'll remember this one a bit better, yes?" His voice is deadly and cold. I shiver. Things were not looking good. Two of his buddies appear from behind Edgar and I try to shrink into the wall. The brick behind me is rough, allowing for me to focus on it enough to keep coherent thought. Don't aggravate him. Be a smaller target. It's not your fault, it's not your fault, and it's not your fault.
I feel the first punch and flinch as soon the fist are joined by feet. I don't cry out. I stay silent. I do not cry, even when the pain in my legs become too much for me to keep standing and I fall, hitting my head. I take every blow, adding it to my subconscious list. It goes on and on for…. I don't know how long… but it's not stopping. They've broken something in my left arm and my head's bleeding. Nothing is clear. It's all fuzzy and their faces are nothing but shifting blobs. Try as I might, I cannot keep my eyes open. I want to close my eyes and go away, ignore all of the pain. I see a fist come straight at me and feel the impact.
But a sound blocks everything out. A scream. It is a scream I have not hear since a year and a half ago, in this same place. It was my sister's scream. How I wish I could say she wasn't screaming any words or that those words where my name, but no. She screamed for that character. That character replaced me in my sister's eyes. She was gone because of that character.
I know this is the end. Of what, I do not know. My sanity? My life? Maybe the world itself? The darkness is close and my sister does not stop screaming. She does not stop. Please stop. Please stop… Just before I welcome the darkness, a laugh comes out of one of Edgar's goonies.
"We got her, Ed. She'll never tell another soul anything." And I won't. I know that. Darkness closes.
And the screaming goes on.
*THIRD PERSON*
"Take care of her," the voice says into the sleeping man's ear. "She is important." The black haired man shifts and mutters.
"How…do I know…"
"You'll know, Colonel. You'll know…"
OoOoOoOoOoO
A/N: So now we're past the introduction and we can start our real plot. This was five pages on my computer, so I hope it isn't a complete failure.
I should think that it would be nice to have at least three reviews before I post the next chapter, but I might not be able to wait that long.
Now, read and Review!
