This fanfiction deals with a very serious issue of physical abuse. It isn't too descriptive, so shouldn't be too much of a trigger for people. The story will be three to four chapters long, and most will be shrieking by the end of this chapter over who the 'bad guy' is.

I wrote this fanfiction over 10 years ago but never completed it, something that has never felt right to me since it is such a dark story. So, despite being long long long time out of Digimon fanfiction I've decided to re-edit the original chapter and give it an ending.

A Stranger in My House

Chapter One

The woman sat curled up on her bed, clutching her patchwork duvet close to her, fingers tightening with every minute that passed. It was 5:23 p.m.

He'd be home soon.

Slipping out of her bed, she slid on blue slippers and padded over to the vanity. He was gone temporarily but his mark remained. The purple bruise on her right cheek still ached, though parts of it were fading. She touched it tentatively, dusting it with face powder lest he anger over her not trying to put herself together for him.

It was lucky that she had been such a sickly child growing up, it made the number of sick days she took seem par the course for her.

The ringing of the phone echoed distantly, and she glanced around the room for the cordless. It was a few moments before she found it in the cocoon of the bed sheets and answered. "Hello?"

"Damnit, Hikari, why didn't you pick up sooner?" His voice was harsh.

"I'm sorry….it was caught in the sheets…I came as quick as possible-" She stammered, apologies always ready on the tip of her tongue.

"Whatever. I'll be home in a hour, make dinner."

The blaring dial tone bellowed in her ear as her eyes lowered. "Bye Takeru." She whispered into the phone before switching it off.

Breathing raggedly she slipped down the hallway, wincing as her shoulder cracked, still sore from where he had pushed her against the wall the week before. Turning the sink tap on she began rinsing out a saucepan to make some rice. The heavy pounding of the water against the stainless steel was soothing.

Her life was nothing like she had imagined it to be. Her love with TK had been precious … perfect. He had been a sweet child, the epitome of all that was good and wonderful, the very essence of hope. He was the person one would least expect to act as he did now. And in a way, it wasn't him. The man who did this to her, who would hit for the wrong word, scold her for a simple mistake, crush her heart for no reasons at all, was not the darling bright eyed TK her friends and family had loved. No, he had become Takeru a long, long time ago.

In retrospect, they had married much too young, at only 23 years old, just a year after her elder brother had. Nancy, TK's mother had passed away a few months after their wedding during a time when TK and she hadn't been speaking. Hadn't been speaking because he had angered at some sharp criticism she had directed toward Hikari. TK had been heart broken, already having had lost his relationship with his father years prior. Hikari knew that that had been the beginning, his loss so keenly felt, his blame directed now on her.

Nancy's issue was over Hikari's general need for care. She was a weak girl and often was in and out of the doctors with a variety of issues: anemia, exhaustion, fainting. Nancy had felt as if TK was burdened with her, something TK had taken great offense to. After her death however, TK started realising that perhaps that was true.

When Hikari had to stop working for a few months due to a bout of Vertigo, TK began working two jobs just to keep them afloat. And one day, a Thursday, coming home exhausted from work, she had been doing the dishes when she had knocked over the drying rack causing five plates to clatter loudly against the linoleum, rousing him from his nap. He had stalked over in an angry rage and slapped her sharply across the face. She had fell back against the cupboards, bursting into tears and shocked, he had taken her into his arms, filled with apologies. That was the first day she met Takeru.

The abuse hadn't been a regular thing in the beginning but now she sported the signs of his anger at least every few weeks, whether visible or not.

Yamato wasn't around to know the difference as he was in America touring and recording. He hadn't even been back to see the couple for well over a year.

Hikari's friends were all together nonexistent anymore as during the financially stressed times she had had little time to keep up correspondence and soon Takeru's demands were so severe on her time that she never had the chance to try and manage friendships.

The only people who knew were Taichi and his wife Mimi. They had noticed the small changes in the beginning but Hikari had adamantly and fiercely defended her husband, going as far as to stop speaking to her brother. She had righteously told them that TK loved her and they were both idiots.

It had been her mistake.

TK had loved her.

Takeru did not.

Mimi had come to her one day and begged her to leave Takeru, to remember to respect and love herself. She had refused. That night he had hit her so hard she was knocked unconscious.

Tears flooded Hikari's eyes. God, how she missed her TK. There was nothing of him left now. Yet, she could never bring herself to leave. Where would she go? Who would want her? She was simply a burden on those around her, Takeru made sure to teach her that.

It was then that she heard the key turn in the front door and her heart stopped.

No. No…it couldn't be…. she hadn't …. She hadn't wasted all this time lost in her own thoughts had she? …. No, no, he wasn't home while dinner wasn't ready …. No, no, no!

Takeru walked in, dropping his briefcase at the doorway. Along with TK he had lost that innocent beauty. His blonde hair was short and gelled severely. His eyes not wide and bright; they were hard blue steel, easy to shatter against.

He looked over toward the kitchen and his disposition immediately changed from one of indifference to one of anger. "Kari, where is dinner?"

Stuttering, Hikari felt the handle of the overly washed saucepan slip from her fingers and into the sink. "I… I'm sorry… I had a delay…and…"

That was all she was able to get out before he stalked toward, hand raised and the pain began.

The next day, Hikari found herself in a typical position: icing her swelling cheeks while tears endlessly streamed from her eyes. She tried to focus herself on watching some television to take her mind of the aches and pains from her body.

He hadn't apologized last night. Although, he hadn't done even that for quite a long time now.

A talk show began with its typical loud music. Hikari didn't even bother to attempt finding the remote to turn it off. What did it matter? She was stuck in her own head now anyway. Everything in her world felt numb.

It was the sound of a woman crying that brought her attention to the television. Turning clouded eyes toward the bright screen she watched as a woman poured out her heart to the talk show host. Hikari reeled back as she saw the subject title displayed on the screen.

"The first time he hit me."

Drawn to the story, she listened attentively as the woman described the happy go lucky days of young love which had suddenly changed as they got married. Her story differed from Hikari's in the fact that there was no illnesses, deaths or long past of being together, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the woman's tears and her own tears. They were kindred.

The woman spoke about many things: The first time he hurt her and the apologies which eventually ceased as the abuse increased. The feeling of being worthless, below him, a nothing. It was all too true and resounded in Hikari's ears. Then came the terrifying moment when he had tried to kill both the woman and her child. They managed to escape by the grace of a helpful neighbour. Now, the woman was a paralegal and married to a kind teacher who never raised his voice to her.

Hikari sat in shock.

There was a happy ending?

But. . .there couldn't be. Not for her at least. She didn't deserve one. She was nothi-

And suddenly, as if she was years younger, a strength and understanding finally filled her mind. No one deserved abuse! Where was the independent strong woman she once was? She was worth something … at least a whole lot more than being someone's punching bag. In a rush of emotions she rose to her feet and toward the bedroom.

Inside, she pulled the old brown suitcase they kept in the back of their closet out and began throwing clothes, make up and everything from her top drawer into it. A strange mania overtook her and in what seemed like minutes her packing was done.

Breathing deeply, Hikari looked at the bedroom that had once been her paradise and now was only a prison.

Her chest constricting, she felt the tears well in her eyes. Where had it all gone? Her resolve vanished and she faltered, but then she remembered the poor woman on the tv show. In the past, a long time ago, Hikari remembered how when she would hear such stories she would wish she could help the person. Today she WAS that person and she COULD help.

Taking the suitcase in hand she made her way through their apartment, not stopping until she was the door. Slipping on her shoes and grabbing for her coat, Hikari grasped the knob of the door and twisted, ready to meet her new world.

And came face to face with Takeru.

To be Continued. . .

So: The idea for this fanfiction came upon remembering a fanfic I read when I was a little kid called Mama's Hand. It was a Sailor Moon fanfiction in which Endymion was abusive. I was much too young to read such a violent story, but it opened my eyes to the horrors that some woman face. Abuse is a real thing and often it is the person one least expects. When I watched an episode of 02 involving Iori contemplating TK's sudden mood swing the idea for this story took form.

Now, please note that I love TK but I wanted to write something different and build on. For a HAPPY Takari fic please see my story: All Over Again. For a HAPPY Michi fic please see my story: Breathless.

Please take the time to review and let me know your thoughts!