Soul Eater: Angelika new dance moves
Author's notes: After working on this for a ground breaking 3 afternoons, i've finally got a plotline. YAY! As Rhode would say.
*Ahem* I need to rewatch Soul Eater to refresh myself sooooo BADLY but i need to read the fanfics i have in my other tabs soooo badly as well.
*Cries* It's so hard being me.
"I've been so lonely girl
I've been so sad and down
Couldn't understand why haters joked around
I wanted to be free with other creatures like me
And now I got my wish, cause I know that I'm a gay fish gay fi-"
I punched my alarm clock into the adjacent wall.
She had done it again. That bastard of a sister of mine had reworked my clock to play inappropriate music to wake me up.
If I had just said that I didn't like fish sticks…
My sister wouldn't have ever rigged my alarm clock to play inappropriate music all the freakin' TIME.
Last time she did it, she was in hospital for a WEEK because of how badly I beat her. Using my fists might I add, I don't know why, but I'm naturally brutish.
I prefer to punch first, and ask questions when said punched person is in hospital later.
"CLEMENTINNNNNNNNNNNE!" I screamed my sister's name. When I got my hands on her, I was going make sure that either she wouldn't or couldn't play another prank on me.
Ya dig?
Going down the stairs, I ran after the little troublemaker hiding behind the couch.
Steam coming off of my face, I ran after her in circles, "GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE WISEASS! I ONLY WANT TO MURDER YOU!" I shouted.
"Haha~, now why would I do that, big sis? It's much more fun to just run in circles with you- WHOA!"
Reversed the polarity BI-OTCHEZ! I thought triumphantly.
I had stopped, and effectively caused her to run her face straight into my ass. I huffed as she fell over, "What did I tell you about messing with my alarm clock?" I said with a disapproving tone.
"Not too…" She said whilst giving me the puppy dog eyes.
Her hair (Dyed half pink half purple that crazy Anime-lover) flowed over her eyes, making her seem innocent. I begged to differ.
She was using her foot to slowly stomp out the rug or something, whatever she was doing made her look so adorable that I had the sudden urge to hug her.
It was a good thing that our parents were out. Dad always had to go to work every day as soon as he woke up. I hardly got to see him anymore.
My scrawny sister's (Why she always wore that god damn one piece one colour white dress is beyond me) stomach grumbled. I smirked; I would have to cook her breakfast. Again.
I actually got her breakfast each morning myself, as dad never had the time to. I almost felt as I should call child services 'cuz she would sure as hell be malnourished and dehydrated if it wasn't for me. But I didn't want to get separated from our dad. He was a good man, just busy.
My sister always told me she loved him, but I could always feel the anger emanating from her whenever he returned home. I guess she couldn't forgive him for leaving our mother as she was; broken and sick.
Mentally ill, you see. She had schizophrenia and talked about a place that never even existed, called 'Death City' and would spout how my father should run with the kids and take them to someplace that not even the Grim Reaper could reach us.
Why; she never said. The only thing that I could find coherent in her ramblings was how she loved us; it made it that much more painful to leave her in the nut house when she knew that she had gone mad.
First things first, she was going to have to eat her breakfast through a straw.
I cracked my neck with the most ominous possible stare I could muster. Hey, that's a good word, muster. I'll have to remember that.
"First, you die" I said with a grin that even scared me.
She gulped, and we resumed the chase.
In took just over half an hour before she fell to the ground panting, beside me. I tried to speak coherently but words escaped me.
My sister always asked when she read anything above her reading level what certain phrases meant, usually for comedic effect.
'Why would words run away?' Was the very first thing she asked me when the book said 'words escaped me'. I laughed my ass off, but my father disapproved my way of educating her. He said that it 'made her feel bad if I laughed at her failures'.
Pf, he may be my dad but he only knows so much about my sister. Like how she feels a drive to work harder when you put her on the spot, and how she always disobeys authority, but not favours.
As a matter of fact, I purposely made my feelings sound like authority so that these sorts of things happened; I knew she needed a loving hand even if she didn't want anyone's sympathy.
Especially mine.
She looked up to me, when I watched anime, she would join and watch it on her laptop (Why an eight year old has a laptop astounds me even to this day), when I went onto deviantART (I was a bit of deviant freak as I liked drawing. I found it put my mind at ease) and just about anything else I did she did as well.
It was weird to have my sister by like my shadow; doing what I did exactly how I did it. I would die by being set on fire and she would spontaneously combust, if you will.
Turning on the pan and adding bacon and eggs, my sister looked at the pan with hungry eyes; I don't even remember the last time she ate. It might have been a week ago, two, three, or maybe never. I had a horrible memory and attention sp- OH LOOK A BUTTERFLY!
See what I mean?
Finishing up, I kissed her gently on her forehead. I could see the near CGI effects going off in her eyes like a bad Michael bay movie (Which encompasses a hell of a lot of them LOL) as the food reached the table.
It thudded as it hit the table, and my sister sat up and pointed at me saying "THAT IS MAHOGANY!" I rolled my eyes. She wouldn't shut up about either Hunger Games or Twilight half the time, and when she DID, she would always make me hair-pulling worthy annoyed.
As I watched her eat, a piece of my dark green hair (Natural, I assure you) fell in front of my face. Now was not the time to let my hair become a problem. After my sister was done, we needed to practically sprint to get to school on time.
I put it back in place and it stayed in place, I breathed a sigh of relief and it fell right back out.
"Gr… stupid hair…" I grumbled as I put my hair back in place. Only for it to pop out again. I swear, if it could, it would laugh at me.
If my hair had ears, then I could threaten it to stay in place. But that would make me look like an idiot.
Don't I already? I gave my figure a visual once-over. Nope, I look fantastic, as always.
Hey, would you rather vanity or insanity? I can do both, so that's why I'm asking.
Anyway, getting the little rugrat to school was easier than I expected. Because I asked as a favour, she didn't object to me asking her to get ready.
She groaned of course, I don't know who she gets that from. I'm the perfect role model, I assure you. She went up the stairs and into her room. Now, we wait.
Sitting down on the couch with a groan, I thought over my life today. What I would need to when I got to school, I swear I could see the god damn chibi-fied teachers laughing at me from above, along with Textbooks with mouths.
What would life be like if I had telekinesis? I randomly thought. Or cat ears? Shaking my head for getting distracted, only to end up eying the ball of yarn a few metres away from me, I heard the doorbell ring just as I started getting strangled by the yarn.
Hey, yarn is evil man.
I walked/hopped over to the door, at one point having to actually 'worm' my way over there as I had fallen down.
Writhing my hand free from the constraints of the yarn (Writhing, another good word. I've got to use that more often. I r smart ), I turned the door knob.
The suspense built up as the door knob started opening slower and slower. Until I realised that it was just me being stupid.
Giving myself the pimp-hand, I opened the door and…
DREAM TRANSITION MOTHERF*CKER!
…I woke up in a cold sweat on the rough bed of the room I was in. I was dreaming. Or I was awake and just fell asleep. I don't know.
But that's why I'm here, in this asylum, because I don't know what's real and what isn't. Was that a dream? Probably. My dad was a drunken abusive man; I won't go into detail but let's just say that he acted as if he had something to prove.
Was it reality? I hoped to god it was. That this Asylum was just a figment of insanity, that my dad wasn't a drunkard, and that I was going to stop having this nightmare every day of my life, hope that I would get out of here was all I had.
My sister, well, she was taken to foster care 'cuz we didn't have any living relatives besides our parents.
I was stuck in hell, and momentarily given peace and freedom. Is this some kind of sick joke by god, the devil, or whatever else is out there? I often wondered.
Every day, treated like a crazy person, when I kept telling them I wasn't sick. Every day, questioning my sanity, if I was dreaming or if I was awake. Every day, the rope under my bed beckoned me to use it. Tie it around my head and just hang my hat up, so to speak. But I couldn't. I wouldn't leave my sister alone; never in a million years would I do something to harm her, playfully aside.
A knock on the metal door with scratch marks from times long since passed were still noticeable if you looked hard enough jolted me from my trance.
Poking his head through the door, Dr Michael smiled at me before saying "Hey kiddo, you feeling okay today?"
I knew that he was just trying to get me to open up. I knew that it was because I refused to talk as a protest to being here.
I glared at him before picking up the board that resided beside me and writing on it 'what do you want Michael? – Fast, annoyed' I wrote how it should be thought of as well.
"Ooookay, is it that time of the month again?" He said playfully. My cheeks burned with the fury of a thousand suns as I threw my board at him. He caught it; he was used to the banter between me and him every morning.
The board throwing part of it anyway, I still could never get used to the man's constant innuendo on his part. I found it infuriating, and stupid.
I crossed my arms and gave a small "Hrm" before looking away, still crossing my arms.
He was young looking, with some kind of stupid hair pattern where it had stripes going down that made his hair a brown and blue strip pattern. His face was naturally rounded, but not Downs Syndrome so. More like, an acorn.
He always looked cheerful, as if wasn't working at Hell – the Asylum. That god damn goofy smirk on his face made me want so desperately to rip it off, but I refrained from doing so after my fifth attempt.
He passed my board back to me and I caught it without even looking, I was still pouting with my arms crossed and eyes looking to the side.
He sighed, but still smiled, "I think it's about time for breakfast, what do you say, huh? I've got the tray right here, uh, uh?" He leaned his head to side and made his voice just that much more cheerful in an attempt to cheer me up.
I twitched my eyebrows in frustration and just "Hrm"-ed as a response.
He sighed again, before rubbing his face; he was rather pale today, though I didn't know why. It was like he had seen a ghost. White as a sheep, as they say.
"You know, I've been offered a new position in one of the other wards. Instead of the psych ward, I'll be working in the medical ward from now on" I instantly shot up at the news, but then slumped back down.
Out of all the people at this place, all those that complained on a daily basis, mister cheerful, the guy that liked working in the psych ward because 'it was always interesting' was going to leave?
I could feel a string on my heart pluck, and I felt like crying as time went by.
"A-ha! I knew that you could have emotions beside anger. Granted sadness is pretty bad but, still. You finally emoted, and that's enough for me" He made fake tears as he spoke next, "I'm so proud, they grow up so fast"
I felt like hitting him again and tried to do so.
He restrained me, "You've got spunk, kiddo. That just makes it all the better that I'm actually staying- OH! Got you good, didn't I?" He slapped his knee as he said 'OH!' Smug prick.
He chuckled, laughing at his own humour.
But, I felt that he crossed the line. Like he had betrayed me, so I just did what I did when I first came here, took the food tray from the slot in the door and sat on my bed and ate, not saying a word or sparing a glance at him.
Let him worry for a while, the asshole-ish bastard.
He sighed, and then for the first time in EVER I saw him frown. What was with him today?
"I can tell that you're totally into me and all so I shouldn't have done that. But I can make it up to you later if you want" He said with a mischievous tone.
I choked on my food as he said that. Launching up from my seat on my bed, I attempted to strangle him again, "And they say that being an ambulance driver is fun, pfff" He said out loud whilst he restrained me again.
I calmed down and sat back down on the bed, cheeks red from anger slowly turning to pink and then eventually back to my abnormally pale skin. I hadn't seen the sun outside since I came to this facility, and I was 8 when I came here.
I'm 12, you do the math.
"Well, later then Angelika" He was about to close the door when he stopped, "It's German, right?" He asked.
I nodded.
He closed the door and I could hear his footsteps walk down the corridor. It was then that I stared at my room.
The walls were concrete, they trusted me enough not to bash my head in at this stage, it had been a year since my last suicide attempt FYI, and were a faded and chipped white, bordering on grey due to the inferior lighting that the one window gave.
The window had bars on it, metal bars, so I couldn't escape using that. I just wanted to leave this place, but I couldn't. I don't think I ever would.
I don't even remember why they keep me in here. But they said that it was because of 'trauma' I couldn't remember. That what my dad did to me was so bad that I just couldn't cope with it.
They said the day that my memory came back and I could cope with the trauma that I was allowed to leave. But could I ever get better if I was just being traumatised by simply being here? Why wasn't I allowed to leave?
I didn't know. I just knew that I was being kept here against my will, and that I wanted to leave. Recently, I had made a plan to simply escape using spoons to dig through the wall, (I saw it in a pretty cool movie that I saw at the cafeteria once) but all they ever gave me was forks. So that was out.
I got out of bed after god knows how long, I lost track of time easily, and I didn't know why, and began wandering the ward.
I did this every day until I got bored and decided to simply head back to my room and think until Michael came by again with lunch and then later that day at dinner. In-between lunch and dinner, I headed to the pharmacist to get my medication. Why I needed it, I never knew.
Or was it later at night? Or evening? Whatever, it's not like I knew the answer to that question.
I sighed in defeat before looking at the stairs. The ones that went up lead to pharmacist, and the ones that went down lead to the offices that all the doctors went to or something. My room was waaaaay down the hallway, and would take a good minute to reach it. I often wondered just how large this place was.
I looked at the stairs again before taking a look around, no one was around here to tell me not to, I glanced out of the corner of my eyes at the stairs, no one was coming up the stairs either.
Unconsciously, I took a step towards the stairs. What was the worst that could happen?
I walked down the stairs and was instantly uncomfortable, the place was completely different them the ward upstairs.
Upstairs, there was an eerie harmony, an almost tranquil silence. Granted, I hated the silence. It was like being dead when no one else was around.
But this, I couldn't stop hearing noises. The sound of soft chattering, like the voices schizophrenics hear (Or how I imagined it anyway) filled the hallways with an eerie disturbing silence.
I felt myself slowly being driven insane from the voices. And for the first time in a while, I felt fear in my gut that made me want to run screaming in the other direction.
Only I wouldn't let myself.
I pressed on, unsure of what I was looking for, if I was looking for anything at all. I might just be doing this for no reason in particular besides that I'm bor-
"-I'm telling you, I'm making progress!" I heard an angry voice come from the door beside me. I turned and put my ear against the door, wondering what was happening on the other side.
"Mister, Michael" A second voice spoke in a rather obnoxious northern accent.
"I have asked you here because I wanted your professional opinion on Angelika's mental health, not for you to yell at me like some undisciplined CHILD!" His voice scared me with just how angry the northern man sounded.
"Sir, Mister Cain, I'm sorry for losing my temper, but I'm telling you that you should let her remember on her own! If you tell her, she'll be destroyed, suicidal even!" I recognised the voice. It was Michael. What was he doing there, getting yelled at by some asshole northerner?
"I'm sure you think that she needs extra attention because she resembles your late daughter, but I'm here to tell you that she is here on MY dime! The sooner that we can get her be clinically stable, the better" The northerner said coldly.
What were they talking about? What would destroy me? Why didn't Michael tell me that I resembled his daughter? That last question made a pang of something appear in my chest. Was it anger? Sadness? Guilt? Something else? All of the above?
"Not to mention her late night antics. She wakes up in the middle of night, sleep walking, until she goes back to her room. But not before waking up everyone else with her crying!" The northerner said.
I sleep walked? And cried whilst doing it to? Why didn't anyone tell me?
I heard slamming on wood, and I leapt back a bit in surprise, "My personal feelings have nothing to do with this! I'm telling you, professionally, as her physiatrist pretending to be the one that serves her food just to get on her good side and get her to talk to me, and nothing else, that if you tell her the truth, she will be DES-TROYED! There won't be enough of her mind left to fill a thimble!" Michael's angry voice scared me a little, just because it sounded so wrong on the guy. I had always thought he would be calm all the time.
There was a brief silence before the northerner spoke up again, "If you don't tell her that she killed her sister, I will"
My heart, my lungs, hell every organ I had caught in my throat. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't. Move.
I fell over onto the ground and blacked out.
I was faintly aware of the sounds of voices. But I couldn't do anything. Just breathe, and blink. Soon enough though, I was aware of being in a hospital room.
It was fuzzy though, like I had glasses on that didn't work for me and made things out of focus instead.
It wasn't too long before I closed my eyes, and fell asleep...
Author's notes: Can't tell what's real and what's not? Murdered your sister without knowing it/remembering it?
How comes to mind?
Please note, just because i have a second Soul Eater fanfic does NOT mean that i'm discontinuing my other Soul Eater fanfic. If anything, i've got renewed resolve after i got a brilliant idea for how to portray Imperial's past.
Laterz yo, i'm out.
Edit: Gentlemen, words cannot convey my own annoyance at not having the resolve to write the next chapter. ;.; /Tears
And ladies as well, I simply cannot to tell you lovely people how sorry I am in words. :/