Note: if you have not read either of my RF2/F fanfics (not oneshots), then you won't understand this story AT ALL. So please, read those and save me the hassle of explanation.

I dragged my pencil across my notebook. The drawings just weren't flowing that day. I felt like a five-year-old, scribbling on the paper like that. I could do better.

"Gunie," Anette, my teacher said, tapping on my desk. Before I could tell her not to call me that, she spoke again. "Those don't look like notes."

"Sure as hell they aren't," I reply. I regretted that immediately after. I didn't want her to tell my parents I'd been disrespectful again.

"See me during lunch," she said. Anette was usually a very bubbly person, but when it came to me, she wasn't.

It had to be that way. I wasn't easy to deal with, and I liked it that way. Well, I didn't like it, but being a difficult asshole was something I was used to.

It happened shortly after I turned five years old, and it was caused by the person sitting almost exactly to the front of me. His name was Sebastian. He came from a good family, or at least as good as a family could get. But he was absolutely psychotic, and had been that way for a long time.

I didn't want to think about him, though. It always brought me down even more than I already was.

Anette let the rest of the class out early, but I had to stay. Usually, I would try to sneak out in the crowd, but it never worked. So, quite honestly, I didn't see the point.

"I don't see why you're keeping me," I said, scowling in my usual way.

"Because you need to learn," Anette replied.

"Learn what?" I asked.

"That you can't talk to people the way you do," she explained. "You're not going to get anywhere in life if you treat people like dirt, no matter how smart you are."

"Don't call me smart," I scoffed.

"Well, what am I supposed to call you?" Anette asked. It seemed as though she was losing her patience a little, but that was to be expected.

"I don't know," I replied. "But I'm going out to lunch. I'll see you after." Anette sighed, but didn't try to stop me.

I walked out of the school, lunch in hand, and sat down at my usual lunch spot. Of course, Amy was waiting for me. Amy was my girlfriend. She'd gone out with Sebastian before, and I knew she did it with him at some point in their relationship. I didn't like her too much. She was controlling, nasty, and, quite honestly, I wasn't really the type to go after blondes. I preferred redheads.

Anyway, the main reason I went out with her was to threaten Sebastian. Of course, I knew he'd be sexually threatened, because he was a big, muscular guy, and I was just the opposite. I could use a sword, and I got stronger from it, but nobody would have guessed that. I knew how to fight with my bare hands, too, but not very well. Just enough to keep my nose from getting broken every time Sebastian picked a fight with me, or vice versa.

Of course, Amy was sitting there scowling at me.

"You're late," she said.

"Well, what do you expect?" I asked sitting down across from her. "You should know I can't just ditch a teacher. Or are you stupid?"

Someone took me by the collar of my jacket, and yanked me upward.

"You know," Sebastian said. "You shouldn't talk to a lady like that." I tried to get free from his grip on my collar.

"I'll talk however I want," I said through my teeth. I continued in my efforts to get away from him, but it was useless. So, I came up with another idea. I started to unbutton my jacket, hoping that I could get free and go back to minding my own business.

"You're really a stupid little bastard," Sebastian growled, taking more of the fabric in his hand so he could make it harder for me to breathe.

"How so?" I asked.

"Because," he said. "I can do this!" Without any warning, he let go of my collar and pushed me forward. Luckily, I was able to stop myself from falling too far, but I was still on the ground. That was never a good position to be in when Sebastian was mad at you. He was merciless.

As he started kicking me and telling me to get up, the memories came back. The memories of that day when I was five. I tried to stop it, but that unforgettable dialogue ran through my head.

"Hey, Isidore! Why don't you try catching the ball next time?" Laughter, then coughing.

"Gunie! That's not nice to say!"

"I was just kidding. Say, who's that boy over there?"

"Oh, him? That's my big brother Sebastian."

"Wow, you don't look alike at all!"

"Gunie, pass me the ball already!"

"Okay, Amy. Here goes!" A pause. "Hey, you're Sebastian, right? Do you want to play with us?" Another pause. "O-Okay. Here's the ball, Amy!"

And then, there was pain. There were tears. There was nothing left of the real Gunie.

I was punched in the face and knocked on the ground. Most people would have just dismissed that, saying "be a man." But to a sickly five-year-old, that was downright traumatic.

And that trauma gave me a medical condition. It had nothing to do with my physical self, but my mental and emotional self. It was called the Sadness, which was a perfect name for it. Short, to the point, and pretty self-explanatory. But it was one hell of a burden, and I didn't know if there would ever be a day that it would go away.

But my thoughts were interrupted.

"Get up!" Sebastian shouted. "Are you a-?"

"Sebastian!" someone cried. I looked up to see Helena, Sebastian's older sister.

"What?" Sebastian demanded. "You saw it! He was asking for it!"

"He wasn't asking for anything," Helena said through her teeth. "And you never kick someone, especially not when they're already down!"

I slowly got up. Sebastian always seemed to hesitate whenever Helena reprimanded him, but I could never figure out why. Helena started walking away, but Sebastian grabbed me by the front of my shirt.

"Next time," he growled. "You're going to get it."

"Didn't I already 'get it'?" I asked.

"Not as badly as I'm thinking," he replied. He laughed, and started to walk away.

"You need to learn to fight," Amy said, once Sebastian was gone.

"I know how to fight," I said.

"Not as well as Sebastian," she replied.

"He's a freaking giant," I snapped. "What do you want me to do?"

"Be a man," she replied. "That's what you need to do."

I sighed, knowing that I wasn't going to get through to her. Nonetheless, I sat down next to her and tried to eat my lunch. As usual, I was unsuccessful.

Maybe that's why I'm so weak, I thought. I don't eat.

I spent the rest of the school day lost in my own thoughts. I tried to draw again, but the attempt failed. For some reason, getting beaten up usually made me feel less creative. I fell asleep during class once, just because it was something to do, but that didn't last long, as one might expect.

Finally, school was over, and I was happy about that. The only problem was that I had to walk home with my younger sister, Ella.

Ella could be overly-energetic and happy at times, but most of the time, I only pretended to be annoyed with her. Honestly, I wanted to be nice to her, but I didn't quite know how. I didn't truly know how to be nice to anybody.

We started off in silence.

"You're going to get in trouble for fighting again," Ella finally said.

"And how's anybody going to know?" I asked. "Mom's not going to look for bruises on my back."

"But she'll know anyway," she replied. "You always act different after you fight at school."

"I'm done with this conversation," I said. And I truly was. I didn't like to talk about Sebastian knocking the crap out of me every time I saw him. It was embarrassing.

We stayed silent for the rest of the short walk, and when we got home, the smell of food didn't lift my crappy mood. I was hungry, but didn't feel like eating, and that just pissed me off even more.

So, as usual, I went to my room. But I was bored, and I couldn't find any way to entertain myself at all. I had read every single book we had in the house, and I didn't want to leave, because that would mean I'd have to deal with people, including everyone my family.

Since everything I tried had failed, I started doing my homework at my desk. I only had Elvish to do. Normally, I would have been fine with the light workload, but Elvish only took about ten minutes for me to finish, which was never good for me when I was bored. While I didn't like homework, at least it was something to keep me busy.

"Mom and Dad want to talk to you," Ella's voice said from my doorway. I jumped, but didn't turn around.

"All right," I said through my teeth. I got up, and started to walk away from my room. I was especially pissed off then, because I saw that Mom and Dad were sitting on the couch, which always meant they wanted to talk to me about something.

I sat down in a chair opposite them, and waited.

"We hear you got into another fight at school again," Dad said.

I knew it! I immediately thought. But I didn't say anything.

One thing about my condition was that it allegedly had no cause. But I knew better. I never told Mom and Dad about what happened when I was five, because I didn't want them to know. I couldn't remember the reason; some parts of the whole thing were just too distant in my memory.

"So?" I finally asked.

"It's not something you should do," Mom said. "Especially not with Sebastian. He's so much bigger than you, and you could really get hurt!" I smirked.

"Gunie, this is serious," Dad said.

"Don't call me that," I said, getting up from my chair. "And I'm not discussing this."

"Oh, yes we are," Mom said.

"Has it ever crossed your minds that maybe there's another reason for this?" I asked.

"What?" Mom and Dad asked.

Once I saw their confused expressions, I regretted what I had said. I wasn't ready to tell them about what had happened all those years ago. I didn't think I ever would be.

"Never mind," I said. "I'm going back to my room."

"Gunie-" Dad started to say.

"What?!" I demanded angrily. I was sick of talking about the whole thing, as always.

"We just want you to be safe," Mom said.

For some reason, whenever someone indicated in any way, it made me want to cry. I wasn't sure why, though. But I didn't cry. At least, not in front of anyone. The fact that I was even considering crying in front of my own parents was frustrating.

So, I exploded.

"Just leave me alone!" I shouted. I stormed off toward my room, and slammed the door. I immediately sat down.

I wanted to tear my hair out, hit something, or break something, but most of all, cry. But I knew that crying wasn't an option, even when alone.

Punishment was needed.

I kept a knife in the drawer of my desk that was specifically for that purpose. I rummaged through the drawer, and pulled it out. First, I rolled back the left sleeve of my shirt, and pressed the knife to my bare arm.

I couldn't help but look at my arm. There was a whole array of scars, and sometimes, I couldn't believe I had cut myself that many times.

But those scars were just marks of the Sadness.

Just as I was about to break the skin, I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I needed that much punishment for just crying. But then I thought of everything else I had done that day. I acted like a jerk, I got into a fight and lost, and I yelled at my parents because they cared about me. I tried to cut for a second time, but I hesitated again. Even though the cutting was something I did quite frequently, it still hurt.

Finally, I got so frustrated that I decided I would just go for it.

Screw pain, I thought. Screw emotional conflict.

"Be a man," I said through my teeth.

I scratched the surface of my skin. But for some reason, that sent me over the edge.

And I cried.

That was depressing.

And before you decide to yell at me for my portrayal of depression, please note that I have depression. I'm not a cutter, but I've heard a lot about it. I find other ways to deal with my feelings.

So, if you're wondering, "Why are you so open?" here's why: I don't want to be bitched at. That's all.