Comments: Hello to all who wish to read "What Becomes of Snow?" Before you begin I wish to add in some disclaimers. First off, I've had this idea rattling around in my head for some time now. However I was unsure of how to start it or even if I should have written it. Nevertheless, if you are a writer I'm sure you can relate when I say that I couldn't stand not writing it. So—desperate as I was, knowing that I had to get this idea down on paper, and having no idea how to begin—I grabbed at my first opportunity for a starting point. That opportunity happened to be a book I was reading. The book is titled Touching Spirit Bear and is written by Ben Mikaelsen. I have used several various phrases from this book for describing Yuki's situation and injuries—there was a good bear mauling scene with plenty of injuries similar to those that Akito likes to inflict upon Yuki— in my story. This is a disclaimer to say that some of the phrases are not mine. The majority of the phrases that I used are in the beginning of this story because, as I've said, I used the inspiration to set this story in motion.
This disclaimer is neither to discredit the idea of my story nor to say that the story line is not mine. It is. All mine. Mine.
Ahem so…
…My second disclaimer is the usual: I DO NOT OWN FRUITS BASKET OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS.
I think that covers all of the bases. If I have missed a few please feel free to comment.
What Becomes Of Snow
By,
Dreaming Fae
Yuki struggled to shift his position on the cold, hard wood floor, but stiffness had set into his body like hardened cement. He couldn't roll to either side. If only he could use both of his arms. But his right arm was mangled and useless, and the only sensation he had from it was a throbbing burn in his shoulder. The condition of his body frightened Yuki. He'd been physically abused by Akito before, sometimes pretty badly, but it had never been this severe. He tried to take in a deep breath, but pain stabbed at his chest, and he returned to shallow tentave breaths, drawing in little air past his lips with each shuddering gasp.
Waves of pain wracked his body. With each agonizing wave he bit his lip and whimpered, trying not to cry out. The coppery bitter-sweet taste of blood kept seeping into his mouth forcing him to swallow or let it seep slowly past his lips to puddle onto Akito's perfectly polished floor. He dared not let his blood stain Akito's floor.
Suddenly Yuki's body was wracked with coughs. Instant agony tore at his broken ribs with each jolt the coughing forced from him. He tried to fight it, gasping, fighting to bring air to his burning lungs even as the asthma attack fought to rid him of it. It was a losing battle, Yuki realized as he listened to the high pitched sound of his wheezing. He was slowly suffocating. Again and again the spasms came, and the world swam in circles. Yuki tried again to stop choking, but couldn't. Black spots danced across his vision and then he lost consciousness.