The hit came harsh, knocking the delicate boy from the balance of his feet and to the carpeted floor of his 'home', where he was continuously kicked to the ribs and arms and cursed at like a ritual of hate and death. He twisted and shook in a panicked form, salty jewels running down his ever so pale and bruised face, his legs kicking the air frantically, trying his up-most to escape from the psycho who was his uncle. He clawed at the carpet, the ends of his nails bringing up the blood red threads and his voice raw and scratchy from screaming.
"Shut your gob, you f***ing worthless brat!" The deep bass boomed and cracked Allen's ears. Sobs shaking his ever slowing body; he was giving up, too tired and his body too painful to move. Without an ounce of strength left in his body he just dropped, making it easier to now be dragged across the ground to the rotting bathroom by the muscled monster. His back hit the tiled floor as he was dropped harshly and carelessly to the ground of the bathroom, the sound of rapid thrashing water drumming at his ears and burning steam smothering his skin, eyes and bloody nose until he could no longer breathe properly. After what seemed like hour after hour his eyes slowly losing to the world he was suddenly tugged up by his weakened left arm and it was drowned into another layer of misery. His sense of feeling was slow but it came and when it came he screeched ear piercingly as the over boiling water melted the skin of his arm. He was tugging but the grip was too firm. He could feel and smell the skin of his left arm, rotting death wafting at his nose and he threw-up all over himself and the floor. He choked on his bursts of screams, knocks and bangs being heard from the front door faintly through his voice. The man pulled him up to his face harshly, a fearsome glare haunting his eyes and he spoke with a sturdy voice, words that would continue to give him nightmares, to continuously haunt him for the rest of his life.
He strained his back at the speed he had suddenly sat up at in the 'comfort' of his bed, gasping and choking at the thick air of the nicely decorated mid-sized room. His arm was throbbing the red skin was cracked but smooth and cursed the whole of his arm to shoulder and hand, just like from the nightmare and he would wake-up to find it still real every time. He clutched his heavy head in his hands and attempted to rub away the nightmare memories from his mind with his thumb circling over the fine lids of his eyes. The images continued to flash before him and the smell was burning his nose. Shaking and clumsy he threw back the overheating covers and clambered over to the window in his grey pyjama bottoms and oversized t-shirt and threw it open to let in the fresh air. The silver haired boy, lay his aching head on the crossed arms he had splayed on the smooth white painting of the window sill; lapping up the smell of cut grass and the sounds of birds, lawn mowers and teenagers making their way to school.
The sleep deprived boy groaned "School…" he slurred out and pushed his slung body away from the window but keeping the fresh air swirling in. He stood still for a while taking deep breaths, he thought he would be now used to this considering this dream had been re-occurring over the last seven years; but still every time it shook him up more. Tears trickled down the sickening paleness of his cheeks knowing he would have to compose himself and carry on with the day, as he rummaged through his wardrobe for his school uniform. After 20 minutes of slowly getting changed, brushing his hair and teeth and slinging all of his needed belonging over his shoulder in a good-sized bag, he shuffled down stairs, stretching his lips into a fake smile to last the whole day. Down in the kitchen he was approaching his adoptive parent. The man was well shaped and not too bad looking for the age of 40, his hair was long, red and flicked out anywhere possible and covered the whole of one of his eyes. He wasn't perfect; he smoked, sometimes drank a little too much and was quite the womanizer but he was kind and cared for the boy like his own. To Allen he couldn't have asked for anything more and he wasn't going to concern him with all his worries and nightmares with all he had done for him. So Allen twisted almost elegantly into the kitchen where the red as a tomato hair shone brightly as the lean man lent against the kitchen counter, staring at the toaster which held his breakfast. The man was wearing old slacks and a rock band t-shirt that was slowly wearing away.
Allen cleared his throat before speaking clearly "I'm going now Dad I'll see you later, okay?" The name Dad hadn't taken Allen long to get used to at all, he liked knowing he had someone he could trust enough to call them that sensitive name. The boy flashed a hopefully realistic smile when Cross turned round to look at him lazily, his face pulled down into a morning grump.
"No you're not." He stated with a grunt.
Allen gave him a confused face, rubbing his beaten and drowsy eyes, like a small puppy.
"You haven't eaten anything" he said pointing a finger at Allen "and if you don't eat you'll turn to dust. You hear me?" The finger wagged pointlessly.
The boy sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing at this time of the morning even if he knew his stomach would definitely not take in food right now. So he pushed himself over to one of the draws and pulled out a couple of breakfast bars to keep the old man happy.
"Okay Dad" He walked himself over to the slouched man at least half a head higher than the boy and gave him a hug, Cross immediately responded and wrapped his arms protectively around him.
"You can tell me anything, you know that right" the man exclaimed squeezing the boy then letting him go.
Allen sheepishly nodded and muttered "I know" before smiling as much as was possible.
"Anyway..." he coughed "I really do have to go now so I'll see you later, Kanda's waiting for me."
A bye was heard from the kitchen as Allen ran out and quickly threw on his boring black school shoes and reached in his pockets to the thin black gloves he never took of around public. They were important to him, as they hid the horror that had layered his hand and arm, and he always carried around a second pair for emergencies. He took a quick right after passing the gate from the front garden and could immediately see the silhouette of the elegant samurai stood, shoulders back and scowling at the top of the street. His raven coloured hair tinted blue in the sun light and ran down his back from a high tightly fitted bobble.
Allen smiled slightly at the scene and began to jog up the street towards Kanda, his new friend of a month along with others but Allen for some reason felt more comfortable around Kanda; even if he was always grumpy and lashed out at people for the simplest of reasons, he always accepted people for who they were. Allen sighed, shaking his head. 'What am I talking about' He heated up with the simple words he had thought.
Allen lifted his head to see the figure he was approaching, rubbed his arm and plastered the mask to his face.
"Kanda!" He shouted as he finally reached the finely sculptured back of the samurai.
The mentioned boy slowly turned round with the most beautiful dark but piercing angled eyes glaring right into the misty grey / baby blue of Allen's.
"Moyashi…you're late!"
Please comment if you want me to continue and please give me any advice. Thank you xxx :3