MS: This oneshot, I have no idea where it came from. But I don't think I've ever openly addressed the issue of what childhood abuse can do to someone, so I decided to take a swing at it using Kai and the Demolition Boys as my pawns. Yes there are references in this oneshot to a larger story I may write some day, so don't panic if something doesn't make a whole lot of sense. If there are questions you can feel free to message me. Remember to speak up and speak out if you know someone who is being victimized; silence is a killer.

Kai never did take any solace in being home.

He stared down at the photographs lying atop the old, blemished desk. This worn desk was probably thousands of dollars in its prime... Strong, sturdy. Dependable.

Whenever he sat there Kai was reminded of all those qualities. All those qualities that he, himself had once held. Fuck everything in this house existed to aggravate him. Every dark shadow made him nervous. Every creak, every sharp whisper of the wind spoke of untold dangers and looming monsters that threatened to swallow Kai whole with every second he spent in that place. And to make matters worse... Nothing ever changed.

The drapes were still that same velvet grey he could remember that once, upon a time of nightmares and kindergarten, had been spattered with blood. They moved, swayed with every breeze that somehow found its way up the deserted hallway. Seemed like a beckoning finger, most of the time.

The carpet. God, the carpet... So old, so long and trampled flat with the studious feet of servants and cooks and tyrants and, for mere moments, a family even. The center lay a red as savage as his rage on a given day and the outskirts that bordered the wall mouldings was a deep, jaded green. He had to think about that for a minute to remember the colors; everything in this place seemed black to him.

Those steps, the long staircases that were hindered by wooden banisters as dark as the table he sat to now never lead to anything good. In fact moving one foot in front of the other to ascend them was a little like looking over the edge of a cliff when you knew you were about to be pushed. Hm... No. That analogy better-suited the banisters. Kai could remember the force, the cracking, the splintering of the wood and staring out over the side as he fell to forever.

So many wordless memories that served him in shivers and ghostly touches.

So many horrible, horrible days.

Kai turned his head. Always slowly; always watching, always waiting for that sharp glimmer of movement that you could miss out of the corner of your eye. You never wanted to miss that movement because seeing it was what made the difference between having a tooth left to brush and what agony felt like. When no movement came, Kai settled his crimson gaze on the building snow outside his window.

The white seemed to climb higher and higher even as the seconds passed in this lonely place, an all-consuming cold that would someday undoubtedly close him into this hellhole forever. Burying him beneath the weight of twenty one years of anything but neglect.

He felt like a fox in a snare. Chew his foot off and risk bleeding to death, or die. Right here, without a good option in the world.

The Russian beyblader looked back down at the desktop and slowly shook his head. Using a palm to swirl the mass of pictures around, blurring colors and faces and scenes, he couldn't imagine bringing them here.

He couldn't; couldn't possibly imagine her in this place.

"You're your own worst enemy, you know."

He stood toward the doorway so fast that the old wooden chair fell to the floor with a smack that made the echoey house groan: like someone had plunged a hatpin into its cold, ugly heart.

"It's just me, Kai."

It was always Tala, wasn't it? Tala. Bryan, Ian, Spencer. One of them. But them, he could handle. The feet he feared to walk these hallowed halls had been long gone. At least, gone to a place where, 'rest assured young man, they can never touch or harm you again.'

"I didn't hear you come in."

"You never do."

That was a perturbing thought, Kai realized, and he looked down at the carpet of his bedroom. The rug he stood on was a deep, deep navy. Floor underneath was that same shade of dusky green and over the years, some places were torn, a demure stain or two. For the most part, his Grandfather had good housekeepers. They had to be good; only way to keep their jobs.

And quite possibly their heads if they walked in on something at the wrong time.

Tala let his eyes wander around his ex-teammate's bedroom. Kai never changed a thing about this place... He kept it all exactly the same. Same curtains, same posters, same bookshelf, same bedsheets... Same stupid rug and same huge-ass closet full of outfits that Kai would never wear.

He watched then as Kai leaned over to re-erect the chair and slid it back into place beneath the hollow of his desk.

"Where are the rest of the guys?"

Tala jutted his chin over his shoulder. "Spencer's helping the maid put the groceries away. I think they shopped for Tyson-level proportions of gross overeating."

"Bryan and Ian?"

"Having a spar down in the training room."

Training room.

He missed. Dear jesus, how could he miss...? Kai was still staring at the empty dish... Staring at Dranzer spinning beside it and in that moment his beyblade looked like the most anathema thing in the world to him. He could hear the footsteps, he could feel the anger radiating.

A hand grasped the hair at the back of his neck and lifted him clean off his feet. The smell, that familiar fetid stank breath at his cheek and his ear made his stomach roil and threaten to spill out over the floor at what he knew was coming.

"How dare you boy, you attempt to call yourself a beyblader?!" Kai didn't even cringe. It hurt, fuck it hurt but showing weakness was as dangerous as screwing up. And people screwed up... A lot.

Especially Kai.

"Pick that blasted beyblade up and DO IT. AGAIN." He was shoved forward, tossed really onto his knees and he scrambled to his feet. It wasn't safe to have your back to him; one should never give Boris their back because you just never knew when something hard would fall from the sky.

Kai picked up Dranzer, held the ancient phoenix in his hand and stared down at the gleaming chip in the middle. Dranzer was all he had left, all he had period. If he didn't get better, if he didn't prove himself then his Grandfather would send him to the abbey and the boys that came out of there all looked so-... So...

Kai cut his thoughts short, hitched Dranzer up to her launcher and went again.

Nailed it.

Kai just nodded his head. Tala put his hand on his hip, and waited for his friend to say something. Anything.

Christ Kai had come so far. They all had, the months and years away from this goddamn place were like the most expensive form of therapy. Some of it was bitterly spent and contained way too many lovey-dovey moments and times of sheer hilarity that were actually painfully hard for them to partake in, but... Things had changed, in them.

Until they came home.

And then Kai was like a solid block of ice again... Unreachable. Unmeltable, unattainable, unpersonable... Tala, Bryan, Ian and Spencer weren't flower gardens either when they were home in Russia. But Kai was always the worst.

"You know they're going to be here in a few days."

Kai's fists clenched at his sides.

"Kai you might as well get used to it... Try to brighten this goddamn shithole up a little." Tala sighed. He could understand where Kai was coming from... He really could. So many nights he knew his friend had spent here... Being brutalized. Just as many, maybe, as he'd spent in Balkov Abbey.

But that was a box of nightmares for another time.

"You know I didn't want this."

Tala nodded. "I know."

Again he watched as this time, Kai's eyes moved over every earthly possession the room had to offer.

Bed. Stereo system. Desk. Closed closet doors. Lamp. Dresser with more clothes. Bookshelf filled with shit he'd been forced to read and hated. Tala knew it wasn't the contents of his room that bothered Kai so. It was written as plainly on his face as a bruise denoted a black eye.

What scared Kai most (what scared them all) were the phantoms that trolled these floors. The haunting legacy that Kai's sadistic Grandfather had left in his wake, that had seeped into the walls and the floors and the ceilings of this place like a special kind of poison. Voltaire Hiwatari would forever remain a demonic spectre in the eyes of anyone who walked these ruined halls.

"Jesus christ Tala... What do you honestly believe they'll think about this place? It's not a sunny goddamn villa in Paris. And, it's a far goddamn cry from some beachy one-horse town in Canada where you feel so fucking close to your neighbor that people don't lock their doors at night."

Tala decided that maybe it was better to stay quiet right now. If Kai was finally going to talk about this shit -with a curse, a swing and a swear or two maybe- it was better to bite the bullet and listen to what he had to say before he tried to go all Dr. Phil on his friend's ass.

"You know the shit that happened here, fuck you and the others know it better than anyone else." Tala bit his lip at Kai's tone. Sometimes he believed that maybe their history wasn't as much of a closeted secret as the Demolition Boys preferred to think. They never acknowledged it; they never talked about it around anyone else. But Voltaire had had lots of charges laid against him and the BBA had to be fucking blind to not see that Boris was as sick of a fuck as they came. People in Russia talked about it; churches, BBA rights groups, welfare for the people... When Biovolt went down, it was news for months.

No. It wasn't a secret.

But no one ever asked them. No one was that brave.

Not Max and his enthusiastic, caring attitude.
Not Ray with his silent attempts at understanding all life had to offer.
Not Joseph or Ozuma with all the wisdom they seemed to have sometimes.
Not Salima, who knew so obviously that parts of Kai were ruined beyond repair.

Not even Tyson, the epitomy of stupid and air-headed and pig-mouthed, had ever asked them just what kind of shit they grew up with.

No one wanted to know. Or they didn't know how to ask.

"Do you really think I want to expose them to this-... This mockery of a happy home?" Kai scoffed and shook his head, the very words tasting like venom on his tongue. "This is way too fucked up for them to even comprehend."

Tala knew Kai thought way too much about things. The stoic blader always had. Kai would rack his brain over the most inane things, the most circumstancial questions of life that no one else could ever find the damn answer to as if he, in the hopes of being the best of many, could solve all the world's bullshit problems by being purely self-contained within his own spiralling vortex of a mind.

Tala was no poster child for mental health; but Kai scared him.

He had to say something.

"Kai, you're... You're focusing too much on this. When they come here they won't be looking for all the shit stains. They won't be wondering what happened in all these rooms..." Tala slowly shook his head. "They'll be fucking wondering what's going to be for supper and marvelling over how big the fucking beds are."

Kai looked away from his red-headed friend. Strange, how spending time together forced you to make a connection with someone.

Even during Kai's first world championship tournament, the year he had joined the Demolition Boys in Moscow and fell under the spell of another bad memory, he hadn't wanted to get close to Tala. He didn't want to get to know him; didn't care much for Ian, Bryan or Spencer either.

In fact, Kai wanted nothing whatsoever to do with them.

Horrible memories. The constant low-lying buzz of looking at one another and thinking, 'I know what happened to you. It happened to me too. ...Maybe it's still happening.' He'd tried to credit his avoidance of them to Black Dranzer... To being so consumed by power and the need to destroy, that developing relationships came last on the rungs of what Kai had wanted to accomplish.

But after the tournament, he had to come back. Come back here... and here, again is where Kai lost all resolve to retain his facade. Who the fuck was he kidding, really? Black Dranzer didn't have as big a part in the shitstorm of a friendship he'd been forced into as he really wanted to believe. Yes, she gave him power... Black Dranzer was the strongest bitbeast they'd ever seen. But he couldn't handle that power, as he'd pathetically proved. Kai had tried, and failed.

It was left up to Tyson, Max, Ray and the Chief to pick up the pieces.

That was fine. He made his peace. Then Ray returned to China. Max's mom wanted to see her 'little world champ'. Tyson and Kenny belonged back in Japan... Where Kai didn't. Kai had been alright, until he had to come home.

It started with phone calls; Spencer asking if he'd been contacted by police. Then a casual visit, to see how the world champion was doing. Oddly enough, after enough time to start feeling guilty had passed, Kai wanted to know how they were, too.

He wanted to see them... Even though they'd done terrible things. So had he, after all.

Kai wanted them to know that shit was never going to be that bad for them ever again.

And it wasn't.

But coming back here was like a cold hard fist to the gut; and they all knew exactly what that felt like.

He just couldn't imagine them, so many of them, smiling, laughing... Walking through those big oak double doors only to find out that the atmosphere of Kai's home was as black as his Grandfather's future. Kai couldn't picture Hilary sitting to this old rotten desk and trying to do her make-up.

Kai couldn't find it in himself to tell Dunga the reason he had no television was the fact that he was beaten as a child for watching it.

Kai found the notion of letting Johnny stretch out on that couch in the common room, the one he'd passed out on for three days straight, a little sickening.

Kai wasn't sure how to explain to Tyson and Max who had Gramps, Papa Granger, Big Brother, Mommy and Daddy coming along for the ride, that he had no one.

Kai didn't want them to take pictures here because no matter how photogenic Mariam and Ming Ming were, every scene in his house would be ugly.

Kai knew Kenny, Jim and Emily were going to be depressed when they found out he had no internet connection any longer. He'd ripped the lines from the walls as soon as Biovolt shut down to keep Voltaire's evil from spreading.

Kai supposed Gary would find the food a little disappointing. Russia wasn't big for its cuisine and everything here, fresh or not, tasted bland and fruitless.

And for the love of fuck... he had no idea how to tell Salima that the tree she wanted to climb out back in the courtyard, Kai had thought of hanging himself from.

Kai pushed the food around on his plate. He wasn't hungry... He was never hungry.

Voltaire slid his eyes toward the youngster and made a noise of discontent.

"Eat, Kai. You can never expect to control Black Dranzer or even that wailing pigeon your father left you if you do not get the sustenance required."

"I'm not hungry."

Voltaire swallowed whatever he had in his mouth, then rested the dinner fork down gingerly at the side of his plate. He was silent, and Kai was suddenly very, very afraid.

"Eat willingly; or I will shove it down your throat."

"Yes Grandfather."

Kai picked up his fork, and he cleaned his plate. In fact he cleaned his plate every night thereafter.

Kai still hadn't answered Tala. He turned away, pulled the old back of the chair out again and reseated himself. Those crimson eyes of his were roaming over every face in the pictures. Some he knew better than others; some he found annoying (most), some were vaguely withstandable and some he barely knew at all.

But everyone in those pictures shared the same expression.

They were smiling.

He sighed, picked up the top photograph by the corner. It had been the first time such a trip had been organized by the BBA. Of course, rules were broken and there was more trouble than anyone bargained for, but that summer with the Saint Shields in Newfoundland had been, arguably, some of the best months of his life.

All, of their lives.

But it was also the fucking reason he was in this goddamn situation.

"I don't understand why we have to get together before June. They're fucking insane, all of them... The winter is cold enough already, and they want to come and spend it in fucking Russia?"

Tala looked down. "It's just for a week, Kai. You know she's been wanting to see you, hell it was probably Salima's idea."

The mere mention of her name made Kai hang his head. He didn't deserve her.

"I don't... Want her to see this place. I don't want any part of her coming into contact with any of this."

"I know... but we have the space. And the Saint Shields, we owe them Kai. As much as I hate to fucking admit it, and then there's Oliver-"

"I get it."

Tala took a deep breath.

"...Did you ever stop to think that maybe Salima loves you with or without, the parts of you that are chained to this place...?"

Kai looked at her smiling, beautiful face... In front of him, in the picture. That beach in Heart's Content, the sunlight, the way she was just so happy...

It pained Kai to know that what his friends were coming to gaze upon would not be as pretty, nor as peaceful as that place. No one would be laughing, or singing... No parties, no hot summer nights beside a campfire, no drinking, no... No love, here.

None.

"I don't want to be like this around her."

They stood for another little while in silence. Nothing but the wind as it blew against the snow-covered windows. The flutter of the curtains out in the hall, maybe a curse, a groan as Ian and Bryan dragged themselves up from the basement. Pairs of feet out in the hallway, maids skittering by rushing to prepare all the rooms. Stocking the cupboards. Dusting.

Tala walked over to his friend, and rested his hand on Kai's shoulder.

Everything would be so simple, Tala knew, if they could only fix eachother like a couple of hands were fixing this house.

"You have to tell her Kai. Or all this, it'll eat you alive."

"I know."

And he did.

Days later, when they arrived and Salima crawled into the bed that Kai had cried himself to sleep in many times, Kai told her the truth. Kai told her everything. He wanted to die all over again when her tears started to fall.

It took hours, but they fell asleep. Not before Kai wondered if anyone at all in this cold house was able to close their eyes and dream.

They woke up to screams outside his window. He'd whipped the covers off and he'd stampeded over there.

Tyson had started a snowball fight.

Salima stretched, yawned, asked him to come back to bed. And that was the only time Kai had ever felt welcome in his own home.

MS: Thanks for reading everyone! All hope is not lost for Kai and the others just yet.