A/N: I've decided to say screw it to super short chapters, they're more of a pain than just writing longer chapters. I've rewritten some it. So this is basically chapter 1 and 2 put together. I'm going to go through and do this with the other chapters as well.
Disclaimer: Disclaimer!
Scott Monroe held her mom's hand. Her mom was lying in the bed, face sickly pale and papery to the touch. Her breath came out in gasps, as if it were a fight to breathe. Romanda had been sick for over a year now. No one knew what the cause of the sickness was; why she was in this condition. One day she was lifting hay bales onto a cart with ease, the next she didn't even have the strength to get out of bed. The doctor tried and tried, tested for everything, but still had no clue as to what Romanda had.
"Do you know why I named you Scott?" Her mom asked. Her voice cracked and wheezed. Scott tried to keep a smile on her face, for her mother's sake, but felt it quiver. This was the woman who, even though she was a single mother, had taken care of Scott the best she could. Romanda wasn't just Scott's mother; she was also her father, her friend, her teacher in alchemy. She was Scott's everything. Scott didn't know what she would do if her mother died. She'd be all alone.
"Is it because you have a mean sense of humor?" Scott guessed in a joking manner. Her mom let out a chuckle, though it sounded more like a cough. She had lost a lot of weight since becoming sick, and she had been almost underweight when she was healthy. Most of the time Romanda couldn't keep anything down, it'd come back up in a matter of minutes. Now Scott could see her ribs sticking out painfully and how closely her mother resembled an animated skeleton. Every movement was jerky and strained, like a puppet with a lousy puppeteer controlling it. Scott didn't want to see what she'd look like if those strings were cut.
"No. It's because when I first gave birth to you we thought you were a boy, and your father was so proud." Her mom's face lit up, like it always did when she talked about Scott's father. Scott actually got her raven black hair from her father. That was all Scott knew about his appearance and that was because Romanda would tell her that constantly.
Romanda herself had thin dishwater blonde hair which was wavy, it framed her face. When she was standing, it was so long it almost reached her ankles. The part was off to the right instead of going down the middle. She was smaller than average women, but not so much that it mattered. She was thin, but secretly stronger than she appeared. After all, she was a very talented fighter and alchemist. Her face was oval in shape and without a single blemish. Her eyebrows, which were the same color as her hair, were narrow and curved slightly. Romanda's eyes were a brilliant emerald green, almost always appearing as if they could pierce right through you. Scott had gained that attribute of her mother. "Then we cleaned you up and saw that you were a girl." Mother and daughter bother giggled. "But I decided that Scott would still be a good name, even though you're a girl." Her mom paused for a moment when a coughing fit a struck her. "He's a State Alchemist you know." Scott mom told her proudly. Romanda always spoke of Scott father with her voice full of loving and pride. The more she talked about him, though, the angrier Scott got. If he was such a great man, then why did he leave them? Romanda would somehow dodge this question whenever Scott asked it.
"I know Mom, you've told me that a million times." Scott reminded her in an almost frustrated tone. Her mom's face suddenly became sorrowful. Eyes reflecting the quarrel that was taken place in her mind. Romanda readjusted the green bathrobe she was wearing before she spoke.
"Scott, I want you to know that I love you and that when I die-"
"Mom, don't talk like that! You're not going to die, okay?" The word 'okay' was spoken wobbly when Scott said it. Scott's voice sounded feeble, even in her ears. Her mom waved the comment off. Romanda was never someone to deny the facts of life, and she wouldn't let the others around her do so.
"Yes I am, don't pretend otherwise, Scott." She scolded. "Anyway, I just want you to know that an old friend of mine will take care of you until you're of age. Now I also have some money for you that you'll get when you're 18. It's not much, but I hope it will help you some." She started coughing again. Scott felt tears cascade down her cheeks. No matter how hard she tried, they just wouldn't stop. Tears just kept coming and coming, no end in sight. She was so choked up with emotion that she couldn't speak anymore, less it came out as a hysterical sob. There was a pain in her chest, right where her heart was. It felt like someone took a dagger and stabbed her there, twisting it around and around to hurt her as much as possible. Scott couldn't understand. Why? Why was this happening to her? She couldn't lose her mom, she just couldn't. Her mom smiled weakly at her. "Don't cry Baby, it'll make your eyes all red and puffy..." And with that, Romanda Monroe died. Scott Monroe was seven years old.
Nine Years Later.
Scott Monroe did her best to ignore the staring and the whispering that surrounded her everywhere she went. When her mother died, the villagers seemed to think that it gave them every right to gape at her and talk about her. At first, everyone kept giving her their condolences. They acted so sincere and like they actually cared about her well being. The key word there is acted. It didn't take long her to notice that everyone kept asking about what her mother left her. Some people seemed to think that she needed their pity. More seemed to think they could get something out of her. As time went on Scott became quieter than she once was. She was almost harsher with people than she used to be, snapping at anyone who so much as mildly annoyed her. She didn't trust a soul in this village; it was like she was all alone in the midst of a battalion of enemies. She acted cold towards everyone she didn't know very well or at all. Scott was almost an entirely different person from the happy, hyper child who she used to be.
As Scott walked, the whispers slowly morphed from such to everyone simply outright talking. The stares that were hidden (very poorly) changed into being blatant. Scott picked up the pace, hoping that they would just go back to their own business.
"There goes that sorry child."
"That girl's had so much trouble."
"I knew her mother; the whore."
"What kind of woman would get knocked up like that? What a shameful thing to do."
"I know it's wrong to speak ill of the dead, but that slut-." Scott walked even faster, as if she could escape the hurtful words.
The village Scott grew up in was a very traditional one. A lady never even kissed before their wedding day. When Romanda and Scott's father had Scott, and the villagers found out that it was out of wedlock, the townsfolk practically had a fit. They couldn't imagine that the nicest, prettiest girl in the whole village would do such a sinful thing. Granted most marriages were still arranged and the elders scoffed at the word 'love'. Scott tried to remind herself that they were a bunch of backwards hicks, but it was hard.
What I need is for everyone to "-leave me alone!" Scott half thought and half shouted the sentence when she noticed a group of women gawking at her as if she were a freak show exhibit. The women jumped in surprised, then started whispering amongst themselves. The sound resembled an angry swarm of bees. The mental image of that almost made Scott laugh.
"How dare she talk to us in such a manner?"
"Oh don't blame the child. It's not her fault."
"Indeed, that poor girl has been through so much."
"And not eve having a father around in the first place."
"And that horrible man, Waldo Manley, using the money her mother left for her on booze!" By now, Scott had taken off in a run. Anger pumped through her veins. There were very few times in Scott's life that she would actually run. One of which was now, right when she felt like smashing in the faces of the old farts who were talking shit about her. Scott ran past the perfect little cottages and houses that the village was made of. She ran past the perfect dark green lawns and the white picket fences. She ran and ran until her sides wear in nothing but pain.
The path up to the house was now under her feet. Finally Scott reached the front door of the place she had been living at for the past nine years. It was a shabby old house, one that had been in ruin for many years most of them before Scott was even born. White paint was pealing, revealing the wood underneath. Any part that was metal had long ago been eaten through with rust. The tiles on the roof would fall off without warning, so Scott always had to be careful while being anywhere near that house. The front door was crooked on its hinges, as if it was going to fall down at any moment. There was no porch on the tiny two story house. Just a small block of cement that was maybe made you stand three inches above the normal ground. Taking a deep breath, Scott opened the door and entered.
"Where 'ave ya bean brat?" Was the greeting she received the moment she stepped inside. Waldo Manley's words were slurred. His blonde, balding and almost nonexistent (Tee hee hee, imasen! Imasen means nonexistent in Japanese…basically at least) hair was matted and greasy. His narrow, squinty, pale blue eyes were glazed over stupidly. Waldo was wearing the same thing he had been wearing yesterday and the day before that and the week before that. A dirty sweat-stained, white wife-beater and sweatpants that had mysterious stains on them was what he wore. He was drunk again. You could tell that even without looking at him. The entire house reeked of alcohol. There were bottles and cans everywhere, along with other miscellaneous trash. Scott dropped the bag she had been holding at the feet of the man who was glaring at her. When he bent over to pick it up he lost his balance and fell.
"Stupid drunkard; can't even bend over."Scott muttered to herself. Granted, it surprised her that he was even sober enough to stand up and make slight intelligent noises. Normally, he wasn't.
She walked up the creaky, narrow, barely up to code, stairs and into her room. There wasn't much in the room. A dresser, a bed, and a desk were all that took up floor space. As for the walls, however, they were covered with pictures, diagrams, and lists. Scott didn't even remember what color her walls were anymore because of all the paper. A staff was leaning up against the desk, which was buried in paper. Before she could shut the door, Waldo barged in and slapped her across the face. Her head jerked to the side at the impact. Scott didn't move her head, staying perfectly still as the spot where he had hit were turned red. She could feel it slowly forming into a bruise.
"How dare ya 'isrespect meh!" he shouted. There was a deadly silence that wrapped itself around the room before she spoke.
"Tsk, like anyone could have any respect for a dirt-bag like you! Now get out of my line of sight you worthless little insignificant man before I do something only you will regret." Scott snarled at him. She gave him a 'touch me again and I'll castrate you with a butter knife…slowly' look. Waldo quickly backed out of the room. He learned long ago that Scott was not someone you want pissed at you. Too many times had he been knocked unconscious by a girl half his size and woken up with his memory of the past week somewhat foggy and his motor skills even worse than normal.
"Ah, why don' ya jus' work on ye alchemy." he growled, quickly going down the stairs. There was a small crashing noise as his foot fell through one of the weaker steps. Which was followed by a stream of curse words, some referring to Scott, but most of them were for the stairs. Scott let out a dark chuckle, and then slammed the door closed.
She then walked to the dresser and stared at the only photograph on it. The photo was of her mom, herself, and her father. The picture used to be her mom's and after her father left them Romanda took a felt-tipped marker to his face. Scott smirked as she looked at the black circle where the man's head was supposed to be. As she stood there, the light began to fade as the sun made its decent over the horizon. Different shades of orange, red, yellow, and even pink filtered in through the window.
"I'll find you some day...Father."
Scott could hear the village boys whistling and cat-calling at her as she sat on the roof of Waldo's house. But she didn't even dignify them with that knowledge. Honestly, she was too busy concentrating on not leaning her weight on the loosest shingles. Falling from this height would not be fun, Scott was certain of it.
Starting when she turned 13, guys had been annoying her to no end. Of course, they had annoyed her when she was younger, but not in the way they did now. Like right now, for instance, they wouldn't just leave her alone while she was trying to read. She truly despise male teenage hormones, they were her archenemy. Scott reached down beside her to make sure her staff was still there. Other than the photo, this staff was all she had left from her mom. It was Romanda's alchemic weapon, and she had taught Scott how to use it, before she became sick.
"Hey Evil, come down here!" Ordered the leader of the scum-bags; a boy who was actually seventeen. He was the oldest of the kids, the other boys being two years or younger than him. Why did he hang out with the younger kids? It was probably because the boys his age couldn't stand how annoying he was. His name was Brendan and once upon a time he was Scott's best friend. But after her mom died and everyone began to treat her like a freak, he did the same. Brendan nicknamed her 'Evil' after she had beaten the crap out of him using her then newly acquired staff. It was his fault for being such a jackass and calling her deceased mother horrible names.
"Go away, Stupid." Scott told him. It didn't sound exactly like a threat, just more of an 'it's in your best interest to do so' statement. Brendan glared at her as his cronies snickered. It was like watching a pack of hyenas. Only ones that weren't remotely deadly.
"We just want to talk, don't make things difficult." he said. That earned him an 'Oh God, how dumb do you think I am?' look.
"Uh, huh whatever you say." That was her response, not bothering to waste the energy to say anything else.
"Fine then, we'll just make you fall!" One of the losers said. With that they started throwing rocks at her. For a bunch of dumb rednecks, they-never mind, they were nothing but a bunch of dumb rednecks. It was shocking that they're parents were married or that their parents weren't siblings. How they could live in such fancy houses escape Scott, since they didn't act like it. In a few swift, fluid movements Scott grabbed her staff and hit a group of the flying rocks.
There was a glow as the rocks were trans-mutated in to metal blades and sent flying towards the boys. They all made startled yelping noises as they ran for cover. It was kind of sad that the only way to get them to stop being so annoying was to nearly kill them. Not that Scott would have actually hit them; she was better behaved than that…for the most part.
"Oh, I suppose I forgot to tell you that," Scott held up the staff in a way so that anyone who looked could see the transmutation circles carved on to its surface. "My mom was an alchemist and this staff used to be hers." Scott shrugged in an 'Oh well' sort of fashion. Brendan emerged from inside a water trough.
"You'll pay for this, Evil!" he vowed.
"And you're going to find a better nickname for me! 'Evil' sounds really lame, a three-year-old could make up a better one!" Scott told him, not remotely bothered by his threat.
When Scott entered the house hours later, she was greeted by the sight of her adopted father hauling all of her belongings down the stairs and into the entrance hall.
"What are you doing-I mean other than what's obvious?" Scott asked in an annoyed manner.
"I'm sure you thought you're little joke on the boys of the village was funny-" Waldo said, but was interrupted.
"Holy shit! You're not drunk!" Scott interjected. There was an unsettling silence for a few seconds, as if he was trying to remember what he was saying. Waldo gave her a dark look before continuing.
"But their parents did not find your stunt very charming, so they said either you go, or the innkeeper will refuse to sell me anymore booze." Waldo went back up the stairs to collect more of Scott's property.
Ah, so that's why he's sober…kind of pathetic. "Wait, where am I supposed to go? Because of your alcoholic ass I don't even have two pennies to rub together, let alone rent a room!" Scott's voice raised a few octaves as she spoke. Waldo simply shrugged, not really caring.
"Look, I'll pay for an escort to take you where it is you want to go." Before Scott could even examine the possibility of that being a sign that Waldo Manley could be a decent guy; the idea was shot down. "If you get arrested anywhere near here, I'm legally forced to go and fetch you. And I don't want to do that, so behave yourself until you get the hell out of here. Other than that, you can die on the streets for all I care." he told Scott.
After that she walked back down the stairs and sat down by the door. Scott watched as what little amount she owned was packed into a sack. (Waldo wouldn't let her pack her own belongings; wanted the pleasure of removing all of it from his house and knowing he'd never see any of it again.) Most of the stuff he was hauling down the stairs were going to be sold. Scott didn't care; none of the big stuff like the bed or the dresser mattered to her. Everything that mattered was in the sack. The entire time Scott thought out what she'd do, and finally come to one conclusion.
Scott Monroe would go become a State Alchemist and hunt down the no good, son of a bitch whom caused her existence.
