This fic was originally supposed to be an Americacest, but somehow it turned into this…
I got in a fight today with my RP friend. If you're reading this, just because I posted the thing on here doesn't mean it's no longer continue-able. That is just one of the many possibilities that could happen. Dumbass.
Now stop being such a baby.
Go to youtube and type in Dark Marukaite Chikyuu. You will be happy that you did. I promise.
"You're going to have a baby brother!" She said to me excitedly, squeezing her hands together tightly at her breasts. My father was beside her, his arm looped around her shoulders in a comforting way as she told me the big news. Honestly, when they had told me this, I couldn't believe it. They told me mom had the baby in her stomach, and when I learned this, I constantly tried to claw open her stomach to kill the fetus. I didn't want a baby brother. I didn't want someone else coming into my family and taking the attention away from me. Nine months had passed quickly, and I watched in horror and pure hatred as my dear mother's stomach expanded, her belly button sticking out through her baggy shirts. Tonight, we were all bundled up in my dad's smart car as he sped towards the nearest hospital. It was late at night, I think maybe one in the morning? I was constantly nodding off, but my mom kept howling and crying that I was forced to stay awake, hating the creature inside my mother even more.
How dare it. We haven't even met and he won't let me sleep. I didn't want a baby brother, and on the way to the hospital I constantly wished in my head that the thing would just die. Then I started wondering if this was how all children felt when their parents decided to make another kid. Would all children at the age of six hate their non-existent baby brother as much as I did? Another cry from my mother tore me from those thoughts, and my hatred grew. I wanted to sleep, and I wanted to be the only child in my family. It wasn't fair, they didn't consult me. Why do I have to ask them for a cookie, and they won't ask me for a baby brother? Torture. It was pure cruelty on their part. What was that word? Hippo-cripts? Well, they're those people.
The hospital isn't far now. I can see the bright glow of that plus symbol on the top of all those white buildings. As we walked in through the sliding glass doors, my mind became preoccupied with the thoughts of having to get shots. Seeing all those sick people in the waiting room and the nurses and doctors running around in scrubs and lab-coats made me feel like they were going to tackle me and strap me to a metal bed just to inject me with God knows what to make me 'better'. What a load, if it was supposed to make me better, why would it hurt in the first place? Man, I hate shots.
But I hate my about-to-be-born brother more. I looked over at my mother who was now sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed through the crowded but sterile halls of the hospital. She waved to me, and I went to her side, holding her shaking hand tightly.
"You're going to have a baby brother soon. Aren't you excited?" She sobbed out with tears in her eyes. I just looked at her blankly, and she laughed at my lack of expression. Her head rolled away from me, and the nurse in purple scrubs turned the wheelchair into a room with a strange bed. A doctor was waiting there, gloves on and more nurses surrounded him. They looked stern, like they were about to disable a bomb. The nurse in purple who had pushed my mom helped her onto the weird bed, putting her legs in these strange plastic cup-holder like things. I was standing by her side, still holding onto her hand. I didn't realize it at first, but they and put her in that ugly hospital gown. I frowned at the crude flowers printed on it, then looked up at my crying mother. Dad was on the other side of her, running his hands through her hair and whispering to her that she would be okay.
No she wouldn't. My mom never cried like this, and seeing her sweaty and shaky form scared me a little. I knew it was all my brother's fault, since she was never like this before he came to live in her stomach. I thought there was acid there that kept this from happening? Who needs stupid baby brothers, anyway? I didn't. I was fine on my own, with my beloved and sweet parents cherishing me and buying me candies and chocolates and toys and video games. I didn't want a baby brother.
Then, the doctor started telling her to breath and push. I thought he was stupid. Of course she would breath! But then, to my amazement, she sucked in a deep breath, then stopped breathing. She had a really strained expression, though, and her cheeks were burning red in pain.
"Mommy, he said breath!" I almost yelled, surprised that she would just stop breathing like that. She looked at me, letting out the heavy breath and panting again. She tried smiling, but the tears running down her cheeks mixing with the sweat made the smile forced. She squeezed my hand lightly, then started to make weird noises when she breathed. It reminded me of a donkey. A really wheezy donkey, trying to catch his breath after a really funny joke.
"Push, Mrs. Jones, push!" The doctor commanded, and mom stopped breathing again. That strained face came back, and she squeezed mine and Dad's hands really tightly. I almost cried, but she let go before it started to really hurt. Dad was whispering to her and rubbing her forehead, glancing down at the doctor and looking faint.
This weird event continued for a while. I wasn't sure how long, but my legs were hurting really bad by the time I heard crying. The doctor handed the baby off to the nurse in purple, and she wiped it down quickly, cleaning it of what looked like blood. When the baby was clean, she wrapped it in a blue blanket. Mom gave a final push, and a weird thing the doctor took out of her was placed in a silver bin.
"It's a healthy baby boy!" The nurse cried, handing the baby to my mom. I looked up at her as she held the blue blanket in her arms, sweating and crying still, but smiling also. She was probably crying because of her happiness instead of the pain. My dad had a stupid smile on too. He kissed her forehead, and I had to jump up on the bed and cuddle next to my smelly and wet mom to see the bundle. She held the baby out a little so I could see its hideous, scrunched up face. He was still crying, but it wasn't as loud as before.
"I don't like him. Take him back." I said, getting a horrified gasp from my mom and a disapproving look from my father.
"Don't say things like that! He's your brother, whether you like it or not!" He scolded me, delivering punishment to my bottom until I apologized. Truthfully, I don't think I should be the one to apologize, though .I wasn't the one who made mom the sweaty, sniveling mess she is now. That was all my brother's fault.
My birthday was coming up soon, and I was really excited. I was finally entering the double digits, and I knew this party had to be a blast. All of my friends were coming over, and we were going to play party games, then eat cake, and finally go see Happy Feet. I had the whole day planned out in my head, and if I didn't get what I wanted, I would throw the biggest fit in the history of fits.
However, on the day of, my mother came to me, kneeling down in front of me like she would when she gave me news she knew I wouldn't like, and told me, "Sweetie, instead of throwing your birthday, then your brother's next week, why don't we invite both his and your friends and have one single party? You can play games with your brother then, and you two will bond!"
I smacked her.
She was at my height, so my defense is, she was asking for it. How could she even think of mixing our birthday parties together? Me and my baby brother... I didn't even call him by his name! He was just it to me. How could me and it share a birthday party?
Well, because of my apparent 'abuse', my dad grounded me and told me that I wouldn't be having a birthday party, or attending its party either. I didn't care. I wouldn't want to attend its party even if it asked me to. I stayed in my room that whole week. It was summer, so I didn't have to worry about school at the time. It kept trying to come into my room, but whenever I saw his annoying golden locks, I would attack it with a shower of pillows and action figures. One of them struck him in the forehead, and he started crying. My mom found out what had happened, and extended my punishment. She told me I was being a bad boy and that I should learn from my mistakes and try to become friends with my brother, but I didn't listen. I just curled up in my superman blankets, imagining my race-car shaped bed frame was real so I could drive away.
Eventually, my parents kind of forgot about me. They were all too focused on it that they just stopped giving me attention overall. I was furious. They were supposed to love me! Not it! Even when school started and my teachers began complaining about my behaviour in class, they wouldn't give me the time of day! It was really bugging me now, and one day I decided to confront it.
"Hey."
"Hi Alfie." It responded, his voice girly and baby-ish. It looked up at me from its drawing, its violet eyes staring into my blue ones. It was laying on the couch right now, doodling on a random piece of paper, instead of the walls like I used to.
"Stop hogging all the attention, dummy." I demanded, getting straight to the point. It looked at me in confusion, tilting its head to the left in thought.
"I'm stealing attention?" It asked, frowning a little and wiping its hair from its face. I nodded promptly, crossing my arms and putting on my best intimidating face I could muster.
"You're stealing all of my attention, and it's making me mad! Mom didn't even buy me school clothes because of you!" I complained, not sure what I wanted out of this. It continued staring at me in confusion, pretending like he didn't know what I was talking about.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was..."
"Whatever. Just stop doing it. Stupid." I muttered out the forbidden word. The curse word of childhood, and its eyes bulged in that tiny head and he sat up quickly.
"You're not supposed to say that word! Alfie, you're gunna get in trouble!" It squealed, covering his mouth in shock. Then he ran upstairs to tell mom what I just said, no matter how much I yelled at him to stay quiet and not tell.
I was grounded again. That seemed like the only attention I've been able to get, lately, and it was really upsetting me. It was after dinner, and I didn't even go down to eat, hoping that if I went on strike, then I would get their attention somehow. Even if it killed me! It came upstairs to find me, and sat in my room beside my bed. I didn't attack it, feeling pretty bummed out from being grounded again.
"You shouldn't have said it." It scolded me. I scoffed, rolling over so I wouldn't have to face him. "Just say sorry. Mommy said that if you did, she wouldn't punish you so much."
"I'm never going to apologize to you." I hissed out, digging my face into my pillow.
"Fine! Be mean, then, stupid face!" It pouted, then I heard a weird smashing noise. I sat up quickly, looking over to find it ripping my favourite Superman action figure in two, then tearing the arms out of the sockets and throwing it on the ground. When it was done, it glared at me, and I stared at it with my mouth open.
"You didn't just do that!" I screamed, getting out of my hot-rod race car bed and stomping over and it, grabbing its hair and tugging, "That was my toy! My superman toy! You broke my toy!" I squealed out, making my parents run upstairs to see what the fuss was about.
"Alfred, let go of Matthew right now!" My dad bellowed, but I kept tugging on its hair anyway, wanting to make it cry and bleed. My pulled me away to keep me from punching the little devil, and I kicked and squirmed in protest, trying to get away.
"He broke my toy! He broke my Superman!" I yelled over and over, kicking and screaming and crying a little. My Dad was checking to see if the sobbing demon spawn was okay, gingerly touching its head and cradling it in his arms. I was finally able to kick myself free from my mother's grasp, and instead of tackling the seed of evil in front of me, I ran out of my room and down the hallway stairs, tugging the front door open and belting down the street, screaming and crying and probably disturbing the neighbors. I heard my mom yelling at me to come back, but I ran anyway, sobbing and yelling at the top of my lungs until I ran out of breath. I ran pretty far, though, and I wasn't sure if I ran straight or if I had turned corners at one point. All I knew is that I wasn't in my neighborhood anymore, and I had no clue which way was home. I didn't cry, though, and I definitely didn't stay there like I should have. Instead, I walked around, trying to find my house with the acorn tree in the front yard and the bright blue door that looked hideous against the off-white garage door and the faded green roof.
It felt like hours had passed, and I just couldn't find my way home. I probably got even further from home at the rate I was going. My legs were shaking and it felt like I could collapse any minute. I found a small alley way between a house and a small business, and decided to sit there, hoping no one would find me unless it was mom. I sat between a large blue trash bin and a pile of soggy cardboard boxes. My knees were pulled to my chest, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep warm in the cold winter night. I probably drifted off for a while, because I felt myself wake up to the sound of whispering.
I opened my eyes to find a rather tall man standing over me, looking down at me like I was a piece of trash. His hair was a dirty blond, and his eyebrows were thicker than my arms.
"What are you doing out here, lad? It's four in the morning, and you're in a t-shirt and trousers?" He questioned me, a strange accent, probably British, thick on his lips. He got down on his knees and put a gloved hand against my cheek, warming my face up a little.
"I got lost." I mumbled tiredly, my legs feeling sore from all the walking I did.
"Obviously." He muttered, carefully picking me up, "Did you run away, or have you been lost for a while?"
"I ran away." I replied, resting my head against his shoulder and closing my eyes, wanting to sleep more than wondering if a stranger should be holding me right now.
"Why would you do that?" He asked, walking into the door leading into the house I was next to, sitting me on a couch and bringing me a cup of hot tea. Wasn't tea for adults? Or Queens or something? I took the cup anyway, sniffing the steam drifting from the contents of the white porcelain cup. It smelled really sweet, and kind of dreamy-like. He sat beside me, drinking his own cup of tea.
"So? Why did you run away?" He asked, his posture perfect as he leaned back against the black and white love seat we were on. I stared down at my dirty bare feet, and realized I stained the used-to-be-white carpet beneath the couch. He didn't seem to upset, though, which made me very happy.
"That thing broke my toy. It was my favourite Superman action figure, and it just broke it." I grumbled, sipping the tea and realizing it tasted like honey and sugar and other sweet candies. I drank more of it, rubbing my feet together happily as the warmth filled me up.
"What thing?" The man asked, eying me strangely. I shrugged a little, lowering the cup.
"He's supposed to be my baby brother, but I don't like him. I hate him." I spat out, glaring into the brownish-goldish liquid in my cup. The man's inch-thick eyebrows scrunched together in a frown.
"You shouldn't talk about your brother like that. You two are related, you know." He scolded me. What was up with everyone and telling me what to do? I was sick of it!
"Yeah, well, it shouldn't have come into my life in the first place! I didn't ask for a baby brother! And because of him, my parents aren't giving me attention like before! They're not giving me attention at all! It's unfair! It's stupid!" I yelled, wanting to throw something, but not wanting to throw my cup of tea, since it tasted so good. Instead, I kicked my feet in the air, pretending that I was kicking that thing.
The man let out a sigh, then drank more of his tea, "So you ran away because your brother gets more attention than you?"
"Yes! I wish he would just go away! I wish no one would even notice him!" I cried, sipping more tea angrily. God, that tea was delicious! I didn't know tea could be so good! The man eyed me again, as if examining meat. I felt a little unsure of the way he looked at me, and I realized I was unconsciously shying away from him, curling myself up a little so he would stop looking at me.
"I can make the boy go away." He said, waving his hand in the air. My eyes widened and I nearly jumped at him, dropping the delicious tea to the floor, staining the carpet further.
"You can? No way! Are you a wizard or something?" I gasped out, my imagination convincing me that this man was some sort of magical king from the land of magic to help poor children like me make their unwanted and deeply hated brothers disappear. "Will you? Please, please, please, please, please!" I begged, grabbing his green button-up shirt tightly and twisting it between my fists. A weird look was in his eyes as I pleaded, and I wasn't exactly sure what it was there for, but I kept begging.
"I'll give you all my money! I'll give you all the action figures I have, well, except for the Superman one that thing broke, but I'll give you the ugly ones! Come on, I'll do anything!"
Bingo. His eyes shined brightly when I said that, and I felt my heart sink into my stomach. I said something I knew would get back at me, and he heard it.
"Anything?" He questioned. This was my time to back out! I can say no, run away and try and find my way home, and forget about that creepy meter-thick eyebrow guy!
"Anything." I reassured him, ditching my common sense for the slightest chance that my brother would disappear. He let out a long sigh again, then got up, patting my head.
"I'm holding you to your word." He called out as he left the living room, walking past his flat-screen TV into the hallway to the right of it, left of the glass sliding door that led to his backyard. He went into a room, and only five minutes later came back with a thick black book that looked old and worn.
"Imagine your brother. Keep his image in your mind at all times, okay?" He said, flipping open the book and setting it on the coffee table. I nodded and closed my eyes, imagine that horrible creature my mom gave birth to in my mind's eye. I could hear the British man cleaning up the tea I had spilled, putting the cup on the glass coffee table next to the book, grumbling a little.
Then, he sat beside me and started mumbling words that made no sense. I tried to ignore him, focusing on the image of that little blond attention-stealer. The mumbling got louder, and I felt a weird buzzing around me. I focused on the image, though, trying not to open my eyes to see what was happening. Then, I heard a loud popping noise, and the man coughed a little. I cracked open an eye, seeing I was still in the living room on the black-and-white loveseat. The man smiled a little, straightening out his shirt.
"There. He'll stop taking your attention now. And... about your payment. You did say anything." He said coyly, holding out a hand for me to take. I was confused as to what he want, and I put my hand in his, getting tugged off the couch and onto my muddy and sore feet. He led me through the hall, pass the flat-screen and the glass sliding doors. I looked at the walls in the hallway, seeing pictures of a kid I assumed was his son. I then started to wonder where his son would be. I realized that the kid looked a little like me, and I got a weird feeling creep into my chest.
He brought me to his bedroom and put me on his large, queen-sized bed that had white satin sheets on top of a beige coloured comforter. He got a small towel from the bathroom connected to the bedroom and wiped my feet clean, tickling me a little. I squirmed on the bed, pulling my feet away and getting a chuckle from the strange man. When my feet were clean, he pushed me further on the bed, then started to undress me, pulling my shirt off first.
"Stop it! What are you doing?" I yelled at him, trying to shove him away. He grabbed my wrists and easily pinned them to my sides, smirking.
"You said you'd do anything." He said, biting my neck and making me cry out in pain. I didn't like where this was going, but I wasn't sure if I should fight it or not. I did say that, and I know people should do what they're promised, but this was just wrong. Right?
