Old Wounds

Old Wounds

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Life in Obaa-san's house had been…lonely.

She was someone who had always clung to her daughter's life as tightly as if it was her own. As a child, Fumio had always managed to keep within the constricting boundaries of her mother's strict expectations. But the moment the teenager's pregnancy had stopped being a secret, she lost her mother's love forever.

All that remained were the eggshells Kenta had spent his entire life walking on.

That pregnancy, Fumio's first and greatest rebellion, had grown into an impassable rift between mother and daughter.

That in itself would have been fine.

But Obaa-san flatly refused to let go of what she saw as hers. So she'd caged them in that house, forced Fumio to be dependent on her charity and tried to erase Kenta from the picture, just by never looking at him. A life-long tug of war, as Obaa-san attempted to cling to the one whilst pushing the other away. His grandmother may have had too much pride to hit a child (his mother and father had had no such protection), but the cruel words and ostracism had always been as painful as blows nevertheless.

However there was a problem with such an approach.

Fumio refused to let go of Kenta, and always had done from the instant she found out he existed. Drawing her daughter closer meant the brat came as well; and pushing Kenta away meant the girl left with him. Surely Obaa-san must have thought that without Kenta she could have the old, obedient Fumio back; one with a future her mother could control.

She used to sit in the living room, watching the melodramatic soaps that mirrored her life with a bitter expression curdling in her face; should the boy ever enter the same room as her she would loudly announce to no one in particular that unwanted children were not permitted in her presence.

Kenta had always striven to be desirable to his grandmother: by being quiet and obedient, a hard worker, a high scorer…it was no wonder his life's ambition was to be a 'good citizen'. The fact was, he'd survived his childhood with merely a pervading atmosphere of depression his sole scar (it could be worse), only by endlessly repeating to himself – 'not unwanted by mama, not unwanted by mama'.

But on days when Okaa-chan was so exhausted she could barely drag herself up off the floor, he couldn't help wondering.

In what they'd both prayed was the end, Fumio had torn free of her mother's vice-like grip and run away with her son. And in this new city they may have failed to find decent accommodation, jobs his mother could hold onto or enough food to eat; but they had discovered the feeling of freedom. And a tiny, important seed of hope.

But now Obaa-san was here and it was withering away far faster than it had grown.

Half an hour later he may have escaped his grandmother, but still didn't feel like he could breathe. Barely five minutes of her company had sent all the feelings of the not-so-distant past rushing back to swamp him. But several more contenders had been added, whirling round and round in his head like a scratched record, because after fifteen years of rejecting him she'd suddenly seemed to care. Or pretended to.

What if there could be a reconciliation, just like his estranged parents had managed to talk it out and find closure? What if they could be a real family? How incredible would her hard-won acceptance feel?

…Too late it occurred to him that she was likely manipulating him. The hag knew exactly how desperate he used to be for her approval, and the habit of a lifetime dies hard indeed.

He'd played right into her hands.

His eyes scalded with hot tears of frustration. Why did life have to be this way? He wasn't asking for the world, just a reason why one old woman could overrule their lives in every way imaginable. What the hell had he done, letting her waltz into their private home as if she owned it?!

Obaa-san was here. Obaa-san was here. Obaa-san had found them. It was the nightmare scenario. He should have slammed the door the moment he heard her voice. He should have told his mother not to come home, or told Obaa-san she'd be out till the next day and bought them some time. He could try and catch Kaa-chan before she got back but that wouldn't remove the problem of his grandmother being in their home.

The simple truth was, they were no longer safe.

To be totally honest, the best thing that had happened to them since their escape had been vampire attacks; so perhaps they'd never been safe at all.

…Vampires.

Vampires that could erase memories.

Or at least lift his mother's depression enough for her to fight back against Obaa-san to her face.

He looked back the way he'd came and stared up at the hill, with its ominous fog and indistinct castle only he could see. It was pathetic, even abhorrent, to turn to a group of bloodsuckers (or in one case bloodspurter) for rescue from his personal problems. Undead or not, he disliked the idea of having other people sort his life out. Kenta knew all too well what that kind of life would be like. It would be the lonely hell of his grandmother's house.

But…

He was already aware that he and his mother were not strong enough to weather the coming storm. And he had no one else to turn to. His father had never intended to return to their lives permanently. He had no particular friends to call upon. Only Karin who would help him and only her family who could actually do anything…

He was already sure they would refuse him.

But he had no one else to beg for help.

He started to run towards the hill. There wasn't much time left before Fumio returned and he had to hurry. But perhaps if he'd been capable of thinking straight, he'd have been less hasty to throw himself at the mercy of vampires in such a severe state of emotional turmoil.

-Alliriyan-