Quick Author's Note: Alright, so I'm just getting back into the "business" of fanfiction, so be gentle. Or rough. I like it rou- Anyway. I'm giving you a prologue + two chapters in one day because by the third chapter that's when the stuff you dildos-I mean, lovlies, came here for, and that won't be uploaded until next week Saturday. Mark your calendars, ladies and germs! Anyway, enjoy~!

Disclaimer:

All the characters appearing in the Kingdom Hearts franchise are copyright Square Soft/Square Enix/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All original characters are the property of sarcasticSadism.


Prologue

"Mãããe," a girl whined, slouching in the passenger seat of a rented car, "do I have to visit vovó?"

"Shiloh!" the girl's mother spat out in shock, removing a hand from the steering wheel to smack her daughter upside the head. "Your grandmother is dying."

Shiloh's cheeks puffed. "I know she's dying," the girl crossed her arms and sunk deeper into the leather seat, "it's just...she's gotten weirder ever since we left."

Shiloh's mother said nothing in response. The rest of the ride was set in an uncomfortable silence. The car rocked back and forth as it slowly trudged its way through the uneven roads of Homestead, Florida. As the silence continued, the ill feeling in Shiloh's gut grew worse.

Eventually, the car stopped. Shiloh's mother shifted the gear to park and unbuckled her seat belt. She had already closed and locked her door by the time Shiloh finally started to move and remove her own seat belt. The girl jumped when sharp knocks rapped at her window.

"Hurry up," her mother demanded.

Shiloh let out a gruff breath and threw her seat belt off. She slammed her door (unnecessarily) hard and took her sweet time trekking up the cobblestone path after her mother. The taps of her mother's sneakers sounded far ahead. Shiloh kept moving in her begrudging pace, her fists shoved deep in her over-sized jacket pockets.

Her mother had stopped to wait for her daughter to catch up. When she did so, the woman walked along side her, softly stroking the girl's hair. The only sound shared between them were their synced, dejected sighs. Shiloh knew that her mother was anxious about Vovó Serafina's dying. She also knew that she shouldn't have said what she said the way she said it back in the car. But she didn't lie; her grandmother had been getting more and more deranged over the past few years. The girl suspected that it had something to do with her mother remarrying and having them move away to live with her stepfather, Leo, and her stepbrother, Lionel.

Of course that didn't mean her grandmother was anything that would be considered "normal" in the past 12 years that she's known her. Back in the oh-so lively city of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, her grandmother had made quite the name for herself, and she's kept that name since the three of them moved to the States. "Bruxa" the people called her; witch. She definitely played the part, that was for sure. She read tarot to the people around town, made voodoo dolls and potions, carved runes and spells to ward off evil, and always warned everyone of the "impending darkness". As a kid, Shiloh had actually believed everything her grandmother had babbled about at the time, but over the years she grew tired of the old woman's gibberish.

After she and her mother moved away from Homestead to Miami, the pair had tried to make regular visits to her grandmother at the old ranch. However, the more they visited, the more the scent of mold and rot crept into the oak walls. Rodents crawled and skittered under the floorboards, fighting for whatever scraps that were left about and neglected. Shiloh tasted the iron and copper in the tap. She felt the atmosphere grow heavy and oppressing the longer their visits were...and soon enough their visits were nearly non-existent. Even Serafina's clients stopped going to her for her guidance, complaining to Shiloh's mother about "negative auras" and "unnecessarily dire readings".

Shiloh stepped as gingerly as she could onto the creaking porch. The termite-infested boards dipped under her feet and she bit her lip, silently urging her mother to open the front door quicker. The old mortise lock clicked and the door screeched open. As they entered the dilapidated home, the stench of rot penetrated Shiloh's sinuses and made its way straight for her gut.

"Urk..." she let slip a slickly burp, her hand on her mouth.

"Shiloh?" her mother called. "You okay?"

Shiloh grit her teeth and swallowed hard. "Yeah. Fine," she answered curtly, moving on.

The pair continued through the decrepit ranch, the nausea worsening as they entered deeper. Shiloh groaned, half annoyed, half queasy. This always happened when she went to the ranch, and it only made her more sick the more she visited.

"Eek!" her mother suddenly cried out, a rat skittering passed them. "... Repugante..."

Shiloh would have laughed if the mere notion didn't want to make her hurl.


The pair continued through the deteriorating ranch until they reached a hallway. Shiloh ran a hand on one of the walls, her fingers dragging over the cracks and holes of the walls and doors. She stopped in front of one particular door: her old room. She didn't open it, she only stood there, stroking the elaborate pattern carved along the surface of the door frame. She remembered waking up to the sounds of her grandmother's knife digging into the wood one morning. "It's to protect you while you sleep, meu amor," she would tell her, "you never know what lurks in the dark..."

Shiloh scoffed at the memory. What a load of...

"Shiloh!" the voice of her mother whispered harshly, "come on!"

The girl rolled her eyes and walked up to her mother. They stood in front of the last door at the very end of the hall. Shiloh's mother took a few deep breaths, most likely in an attempt to steel her nerves. Shiloh grimaced, the reek of only-the-lord-knows-how-many-years old scented candles, incense, and mold slipping through whatever cracks and holes there no doubt was on the door. The sensation made her eyes water and her sinuses burn...and the door wasn't effing opened yet!

Shiloh growled and shoved the door open. She wanted to get this merda over with and over with fast. Unfortunately, her lack of hindsight had landed her right in the heart of the horrid cocktail of incense, herbs, candles, and other things she would rather not identify. She stood her ground against the onslaught of smells that assaulted her nose. She tried desperately to conceal her gagging with coughs, but only managed to sound like a suffocating fish washed up on shore.

Shiloh's mother ran to her daughter's side, patting her back while the girl coughed and gagged up a lung or two. What felt like a century of torture, Shiloh took a big, shaky breath and forced herself to get used to the smell and move forward. Hopefully her mother would consider leaving early after her previous display.

After Shiloh's fit, a voice croaked from a distance. "Who's there?"

Shiloh's mother removed her hands from Shiloh's back and stood up straight, startled by her own mother's weak voice. "It's us, mamãe," the woman called, cautiously moving deeper into the room. "Sheyla and Shiloh."

"Ah! Meu amor!" Vovó Serafina exclaimed feebly. "Come, come here!"

Shiloh and Sheyla did as the old woman demanded, plodding wearily toward the bed in the far corner of the room. Shiloh stopped at the foot of the bed while her mother continued to sit at the old woman's bedside.

"Ah, Sheyla..." the woman wheezed, "it's been so long..."

The mattress creaked under Sheyla's weight. "I'm so sorry, mamãe..."

The old crone let out a hoarse chuckle, "It's alright, minha filha. It's mostly my fault anyway," she sighed. "This place went to shit, didn't it?"

"Understatement of the century, bruxa," Shiloh scoffed under her breath.

"Shiloh!" her mother hissed, giving the girl a slight slap on the mouth. "Tento na língua!"

In contrast with her daughter's scolding, Serafina barked out a hearty laugh that spiraled into a coughing fit. "Still feisty, eh, meu amor?"

Shiloh groaned at the nickname. Since she was a child her grandmother had been calling her her "amor", her "love". At first she thought it was just what she called anyone in the family, until she noticed she had never called her mother anything other than her "filha", her "daughter". Since then, she just thought it was creepy, and she constantly had to had ask her to stop, which only resulted in her grandmother teasing her, saying, "Aw, she used to get that embarrassed, too!"

Shiloh had no idea who this she was, but her grandmother spared no waking moment in pointing out the smallest similarities between her and this mystery woman. "Your eyes are as big and brown as hers, and just as beautiful!" "Your hair flows down like a messy waterfall of chocolate, just like hers!" "Her cheeks would puff up just like that, too; just like an adorable chipmunk!"

After years and years of being compared to whoever-the-heck this woman was, Shiloh grew a sort of resentment towards her and her grandmother. Sure, she tolerated and respected the old woman like any grandchild should, but she just knew that the old bag didn't see her as her daughter's child, but this other woman she gushes over.

Whoever this woman was, Shiloh hated her.

"Meu amor," Serafina called hoarsely, "come closer."

Shiloh didn't move. She refused to be addressed by that nickname or anything other than her actual, birth-given name. Never once had she heard her grandmother call her by her first name. It was always "meu amor" or "love of my life" or, confusing as it was, "my rock". Never once did the girl hear "Shiloh, get this for me" or "watch your language, Shiloh!" It was always those damn nicknames. When her mother finally remarried, the girl made it a house law that she would not respond to anything besides her own name.

"My love..." her grandmother called again, "please come here."

Shiloh still refused to move. Her clammy palms squeaked as she held the metal bed frame in a vice grip. She clenched her teeth and kept her mouth shut. She was only there for her mother's sake, and she had already made the first strike in the car, and the second a few moments prior. Maybe, just maybe, if she stayed silent, the old crone would forget that she was there and she wouldn't have to upset her mother any further. It's too bad she was wasn't born that lucky.

"Love of my life..."

"Shiloh," Sheyla said then, gently removing her daughter's hands from the bed frame. "Go to her...please."

At her mother's pleading voice, Shiloh's resolve faltered. Her hands lay limp in her mother's more large and warm ones. One of those hands let go of hers and softly flattened a frayed edge of the band-aid on Shiloh's cheek. At the touch, Shiloh hastily removed herself from her mother and stomped her way towards her grandmother.

"Ah, there she is..." the woman croaked. "Come closer, meu amor, let me see that beautiful face of yours..."

Shiloh kept her mouth shut, grinding her teeth. She shoved her fists back in her jacket pockets and knelt down low enough so her chin was just above the mattress. A shiver shook her spine when her grandmother's wrinkled and frail fingers lifted the girl's heavy bangs, revealing her eyes.

"Why do you cover your face with all this hair, meu amor?" the old woman asked weakly. "You have such beautiful brown eyes...just like..."

"M-Mamãe?" Shiloh's mother called out, worry evident in her voice.

Shiloh's eyebrows drew together, confused. Then she heard it. Small, huffed wheezing, strained and weak wails, and obnoxious sniveling. Her grandmother was crying.

Shiloh almost let out a disgusted noise, jerking her head away from the old woman's hands. She always did this. The woman would always start crying whenever she looked too closely at the girl's face. As a child, Shiloh felt bad; maybe, she thought, there was something wrong with her face? She grew out her bangs, cutting and trimming everything else regularly, until they nearly covered her entire face in hopes of never making her grandmother cry again. However, when the old woman willingly lifted the girl's bangs to look at her face, she realized it wasn't her face that was making her cry.

The dying woman's sobs eventually died down after a few minutes. "Meu amor," Shiloh's teeth ground against each other at the the desperate tone of the woman's voice. "I have something...for you..."

"I don't want it."

"Shiloh!" her mother chided beside her.

"Please, meu amor, my rock," Serafina pleaded before grunting painfully, struggling to sit up. Shiloh made no move to help her; her mother already jumping up to the woman's aide. A drawer slammed open from the other side of the bed. The old crone let out a relieved sigh and sniffled again.

God, is she still crying?

Shiloh grew increasingly irritated the longer she had to sit in that foul-smelling room. All she wanted to do then was to go back to Lionel in New Jersey and leave Florida and her grandmother behind once and for all.

Shiloh was taken out of her bitter thoughts when something was placed in her hands. It was a very small, velvet box. Shiloh ran a finger along the box's surface. Among the coat of velvet, there, on the top of the box, were smooth, wooden letters spelling, "My Love".

The girl frowned. Her brows knitted together and her nose scrunched up in disdain. "What the hell is this?"

"I know that what I've done is inexcusable..." the old woman paused to sniffle and swallow another sob. Shiloh frowned skeptically. Was she apologizing for all those years of treating her like someone else? She tossed aside that hope at the crone's next words, "...but I want you to have it again. Maybe when you 'see' it, you'll remember that—"

Shiloh shot up to her feet. "See it, huh?" she growled. "Que caralho é isto?! Just what exactly am I supposed to be seeing, bruxa?!"

The room was alive with the sounds of Shiloh's shouts and Serafina's wails. Sheyla tried to coax her mother to calm down, delicately cooing the old woman. Shiloh gripped the box tight, the rounded corners managing to dig into her skin. She wanted to throw the thing against the wall, but thought against it. Her mother would just pick it up and give it to her again anyway. Shiloh turned to leave, not wanting to be there any longer, but was stopped by a wrinkled hand grasping her wrist with a surprising amount of strength.

"My love..." Serafina trailed off, sniveling. "I...I am so sorry."

Shiloh growled and yanked her hand away. "Who are you talking to? Me? Or your dead girlfriend?"

Shiloh slammed the door as she left, leaving the sobs of a frail old witch in her wake.


Shiloh was finally back in New Jersey, in her room in her brother's apartment, unpacking. The rest of her visit in Florida was either uneventful or ground at her nerves. After her grandmother had died, they had to wait for her to be cremated, then waited some more for the ashes to arrive before dumping them in a forest or something. Shiloh barely remembered all that had happened, and she preferred it that way.

She unzipped the final pocket of her duffle bag and reached inside. Her fingers brushed up against a familiar velvet box. The girl groaned irritably. Her mother probably packed it in her bag after finding it in the trash bin.

Shiloh held the small box in her hands. She wondered where she should put it. In the trash again? No, her brother would just take it out or something, having been warned by her mother to keep a watch out. The girl sighed and just tossed it toward a random corner of her room, leaving it to be forgotten.


Translations:

Mãe: "Mother"

Vovó: "Grandma"; "Grandmother"

Bruxa: "Witch"

Repugante: "Disgusting"

Meu amor: "My love"

Merda: "Shit"; "Bullshit"; "Fuck" *Note: you're gonna be seeing this one a lot throughout the story.

Mamãe: "Mom"; "Mama"

Minha filha: "My daughter"

Tento na língua: "Watch your mouth/tongue/language"

Que caralho é isto: "What the [hell] is this?!"

Author's Note: And so that concludes the prologue of this on-going series that I hope to actually complete! The next two chapters are setting up characters and the launch of the main story. We'll get right down to business in the third chapter, which will be uploaded next Saturday, so bear with me until then, yeah?

See ya.

P.S. If you're worried about the frequency of Portuguese in the upcoming chapters, don't worry; they're going to mostly be empty phrases (like "what the hell!" or "crap!" etc etc), so don't worry about having to read full-on dialogue without knowing what the hell is going on, since that ain't gonna happen.

Alright, this time for real: See ya!