Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon. If I did, the first season would definitely not have had that really lame song at the start. (Com'on 'Digimon are the champions' ;P)

Warning: Please take heed of the warning sign. This is rated R for a reason. It will have abuse, rape, and suicidal idealations. If this is too dark for you, please find another, lighter read. I accept constructive criticism, but will not accept flames for what you have been warned against.

Author's Note: I have to say, I had to write this. This dark seed of a plot got trapped in my head and has been screaming for release. Since there has to be a bad guy, I'm afraid I made some changes to some characters (I know it's not true in the original anime, but you'll see what I mean as you read). I almost decided to do this as a one shot, but the seed took root and has been growing. This story will have brotherly love and friendship, no shonen ai. (I don't have anything against it, it just won't be in this story.)

(Oh, I do promise anyone who followed me here from A World So Cold –laughs- You probably thought I updated. I'm not putting it on hold. I just needed to get this posted and out of my mind.)

This is the prologue to my story. This is a letter written in the past and meant for the future.

Happy Birthday

Prologue

Happy Birthday,

Happy Birthday, Tk. Or is it Takeru now? Today is your 18th birthday and I can picture you so easily. I can just see you standing so strong and proud, surrounded by all your friends. Of course, knowing how tall our family gets, you're probably towering over everyone while you laugh easily at some joke, your eyes so bright with hope and happiness.

Well, maybe today they aren't as bright as they should be. You're probably confused, angry, and maybe even sad. And it's all my fault. Just like it always is. I'm sure that in the time that has passed since I wrote this letter and you read it, I will probably have failed you more times than you can count. Please believe me when I say, I never meant to hurt you. You have always been the most important person in my life. I would do anything, give anything to keep you safe.

I'm not sure exactly why I'm writing this letter. Maybe it's because I miss having a little brother. It's been three years since mom and dad divorced and I hate it. I hate that I hardly ever see you anymore. I hate that I can't play with you and watch out for you like a big brother should. But what I hate most is myself. You were too young, you didn't see what was going on, but it was my fault mom and dad split up.

I bet you probably just called me an idiot. You've always been blinded by your loyalty. But I need you to keep reading, I need you to understand. Maybe if you understand, you won't hate me for not giving you my gift this year.

For as long as I can remember, mom and dad fought, mostly it was simple arguments. I don't think they really cared about what they fought over, the only thing that mattered was winning the fight. But later it got worse. You were only 5 when things got really bad between mom and dad. I would read you bedtime stories and try to drown out their yelling. I think I was partially successful, you didn't seem to hear what they were yelling, but I always did. The more they argued, the more often I heard my own name being yelled back and forth. I didn't think it could get worse, but I was wrong.

About two months before the divorce, mom told dad he had to move out. Dad, being dad, refused. Maybe you remember him sleeping on the couch? She wouldn't let him in the bedroom at night. Sometimes I hate mom for that.

Dad started acting kinda strange after that. I would seem him roaming through the apartment late at night. It was like he never slept. Do you remember the nightmares you had when you were little? You would tell me you heard harsh voices and crying, that you would huddle under your blanket and close your eyes desperately trying to wake up. Those weren't nightmares, at least, not yours. I lied to you.

I started noticing dad would repeatedly stop outside your door late at night. For some reason it scared me. No, more than that, something was wrong with dad and it terrified me. Then one night, he went in.

I don't know why I followed him. I'm ashamed to admit that I once wished that I hadn't. Then maybe my eyes would shine like yours. And I realize once again why I hate myself.

Dad had stopped right inside your room, looking at you asleep under the covers. He wasn't doing anything, but somehow I knew you needed me. He didn't hear me call out to him. Maybe my voice was too soft, but I didn't want to wake you up. He didn't even notice I was there until I stepped in front of you. He told me to move, but I couldn't. His voice was wrong, angry. I didn't want him to come near you. He didn't yell at me for some reason, I don't think he wanted to wake you up either. But he kept telling me to leave, to go to bed. And then, he hit me. When I started crying, he finally left. That's the real reason you found me in bed with you that morning, not because I heard you having a nightmare.

Dad had never hit me before, I thought that maybe that would be the end of it. That that would be the worst of it. This wasn't the last time I would cling to that vain hope. Remember how I slept by your bed, to guard you from the bad dreams? I wasn't worried about dreams. I didn't understand why, but dad kept coming to your room each night. And each night he got angrier and angrier at me. That was when he told me that it was my fault that he and mom were arguing. He told me that mom knew I was bad and never listened and that she often argued with him about how to punish me. He used to tell me this when he was hitting me for not leaving your room.

You probably think that I should have told you about it, but I couldn't. I didn't want you to know dad could do that. And I didn't want you to know that it was all my fault.

Maybe you still believe in me, despite my faults and my failures to you. As unlikely as it seems, maybe you don't blame me. Right now, you're probably asking me why I didn't tell mom. You see, it wasn't long after he started hitting me that they seemed to argue less. I thought he was right, that I deserved the punishment and that's why things got better for them. But she still made him sleep on the couch, and I hate her for that.

And he still came to your room each night. I don't remember how many nights passed that he came to your room and hit me when I wouldn't leave. I do remember the night that I finally understood why. I didn't want to understand. I didn't want to hurt. But most of all, I didn't want to let you get hurt. But I didn't really have a choice, he never gave me one. I think dad finally got fed up with me refusing to leave. That night, when he realized that his kicks and blows couldn't make me leave, he dragged me out of your room by my hair.

I never planned to tell you this. I never wanted you to know. I don't want you to be hurt by this. I just want you to understand why. Why I had to write you this letter.

When he got to my room, he threw me on my bed. He shut the door and started to tell me in that harsh, muted voice of his what a horrible kid I was. That I didn't deserve to live, that I would never be anything but a nuisance. It hurt, but I expected it. After all, I had been hearing it every night for longer than I wanted to. Then he started saying things to me that didn't make any sense. He told me that I looked just like mom. That I was beautiful, that I was so innocent. He told me that I owed him, that he owned me. And then…

And then…I'm sorry Tk, I don't want to…I can't seem to…how can I ever tell you this? You're so innocent, you shouldn't know this. It feels wrong to corrupt you with the dirt that seems to bury me.

But, you're an adult now, right? You're 18 and a man. You're stronger than me. You have to be.

Tk, he…he hurt me. He held me down, touched me, hurt me. I wanted to scream, but he held my face in the pillow. I thought he was killing me. It hurt so bad, I wanted him to kill me. When it was finally over, he patted me on the head and told me I was a 'good boy, even better than he thought.' And I wanted to die.

The next morning, when I didn't get up for breakfast, mom came to my room. She told me that dad told her that I had misbehaved the previous night and that he had to punish me. She told me that I shouldn't sulk when dad punished me for what I deserved. She told me to grow up and stop misbehaving and I wouldn't get punished so often. And I hated her.

The only thing that stopped after that night was that dad stopped going to your room at night. He started coming to mine. It hurt, I always hurt, but for a while I thought it was okay. Mom and dad stopped fighting and things almost seemed to be back to normal. Normal for everyone else at least. I didn't realize it was the calm before the storm.

Mom and dad finally divorced. They even went to court to fight over you and me. Well, you at least. After all, mom thought I deserved dad's punishment, I knew she didn't want me. Even with that, I still wanted to go with you and mom. Maybe mom would realize I wasn't so bad. Maybe she would learn to love me. I knew I could be good if I tried. But dad said that the judge would give him custody of both of us. He told me that since mom didn't have a job, the judge would have to give us to him. I knew you were a good kid, that you would never deserve the punishments that I did, but I was still worried about you. That's why I told the judge that I wanted to live with dad. I told him that I loved mom and thought she should take you, but that I should stay with dad. I thought the judge would understand. Mom would be able to take care of one kid, even if she didn't have enough money for two. I also thought that maybe dad wouldn't fight for you so much if he knew he had me. Luckily, this was one time that I was right.

So now you understand why mom and dad divorced and why we were separated. It was all my fault. I wish I could say things got better after the divorce, but they didn't. I tried to be good. I learned to cook, I kept the apartment clean, I did everything he told me to, but, somehow, I still deserved punishment. I wish that I could have visited you more these last couple of years. I really have missed you so much. I can't help but wonder if you feel the same way. Dad keeps canceling the weekends that we are supposed to spend together. In a way, I'm happy. I don't want you anywhere near us, but I still wish I could see you and mom more.

Dad's furious with me right now. Mom called earlier this evening. She told him that she had arranged to send us both to summer camp. Dad wasn't able to think of an excuse fast enough, so, finally, I'll get to spend time with you. I can't wait. Spending time with you is worth anything. I want to see you again. I want to be a normal big brother and protect you from normal things like scraped knees. He was so mad. In the last few years, he has been working more and only hurts me now when he's really angry. Although, sometimes he doesn't really seem to need a reason. He was mad tonight. He barely had hung up the phone when he started beating me. Sometimes I'm happy that he likes to hit me. If I'm lucky, I pass out before he starts...hurting me the other way.

I'm so tired of this, Tk. So tired of everything. I wish it could all just stop. But I understand it can't. Dad told me last night that I had better not speak to you or anyone at camp about our family. He told me that a child is considered a minor until they turn eighteen. He told me that this means he owns me until I turn eighteen. And he said if I tried to run away, he would just take you away from mom.

I guess that's the real reason why I'm writing this letter. I've realized that as much as I want to, I can't die yet. I can't die until you turn eighteen. I have to be your big brother, I have to protect you until you don't need me anymore. You're my little brother, Tk, and I love you more than death itself. I will stay alive, I will be here for you. It's the only real gift I have to give you.

But please understand, today you're eighteen. You are strong, proud, brave. You're an adult and you don't need me anymore. Please don't hate me. And please don't be sad. You see, my soul died a long time ago, only my body lived to protect you. And, even though it's selfish of me, today I need a gift from you. I need your forgiveness and your release. Today, I need death.

I love you, Tk. Don't hate me, please forgive me.

Happy Birthday,

Your aniki, Yamato

---------------tbc

Let's hope someone finds the letter before Tk's 18th birthday.

I hope everyone enjoyed the prologue. This is only the beginning and it's only going to get darker from here. Please don't forget to leave a little light. Reviews make me happy and encourage me to post.