CHAPTER 2
TIDUS
I never wanted Yuna to have to deal with the amount of problems that I've had to deal with throughout my life. I never wanted to get her involved in all of the messy things that my dad and stepmother are included with. I never wanted her to see passed my home life. I didn't want her to see all of this. I was infuriated with my father, I was so pissed. How could he do this? He knew that we were an unstable family, he knew that there was no way we could make Yuna feel any better, only worse.
Jessica and I were fighting again. This became routine. She'd always bicker at me, accusing me of being a useless son of Jecht's, who doesn't know how to take care of himself. She promised one day I'd grow up to be just like him--as she would say; a lazy bum who will never do anything with his life. Immediately, she premised that I'd end up exactly like him. And truthfully, I wanted to be nothing like him.
She wasn't my biological mother, just someone my dad used to replace my real mother. She didn't mean anything to me. She could be ran over by a car and I wouldn't even react. That's how much I despised her.
I headed out, careless of where I was going, where my feet would lead me. I wanted to get out. I felt as though so much has happened in just a week. I kicked some stones around, the dirty soil rustling in the wind. I hated this place. It was as if living in the desert, the soil was always so filthy and sandy. Had you stayed in one spot for too long, you'd probably get some in your mouth.
My cell phone rang. It was my gruesome stepmother. I didn't answer, just kept on walking. I headed to my favorite place in town--a local coffee shop nearby, meeting up with some old friends; Wakka Robertson and Gippal Pavlak. They had been life-long friends to me, and whenever I was in the need of someone, they'd always be there.
The coffee shop was a simple, guileless café. The colors were a modest brown and yellow, and the waiters were always wearing short miniskirts that rode up their asses. But that wasn't the main reason we met up there. It was just custom for us to meet up here, we've done it since we were children.
I noticed my two friends sitting in the corner of the coffee shop, our normal spot. Gippal was resting his hands on the table rudely, plainly stating he really didn't care whether he was vulgar or not. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a dark mahogany-colored tank top. His bright, light-colored hair was sticking up, as usual. Wakka was seated differently, but one of his arms still rested on the table lazily, while the other was holding onto his forehead, as if he was irritated by something. He was wearing capris that were a similar color to Gippal's shirt, and a bright orange tank top. It was always warm so most of us just wore light clothes. I was dressed slightly over the weather though in a pair of blue-jeans and a navy blue t-shirt.
"'Sup, brudda?"
I heard Wakka's deep, accented voice ask. He didn't lock eyes with me as I plopped down on the opposite side of the booth,
"It's just Jessica. . .she's being a bitch again."
"Even around Yuna?!"
Gippal asked, with stupefaction. I just shrugged, running a hand through my hair,
"I dunno, man, but I'm getting so sick of it. It's like, we're not even a normal family. She can't even act like a normal stepmother, she has to make things so complicated!"
"Don't let her get to you, ya? I'm sure she's just worried because she doesn't want you ending up like Jecht."
Wakka tried to console, patting my back. I rolled my eyes, looking out the window, a blank look smacked across my face,
"I dunno, I'd rather die then be anything like my old man, all he does is sit around, and then when he's depressed, he goes and gets so drunk that he doesn't remember anything."
I explained, sighing. I was tired of my old man doing this. He always had to go out and get drunk to ease his mind. He'd come home and him and Jessica would bicker even more--her yelling at him, telling him how immature and irresponsible it is to go out and get drunk over nothing. And he'd hit her, toss her around a few times, until she shut her mouth. She'd cry, and cry, and he'd shout, and shout. . .
I could never sleep with all of that racket.
"You look flustered man, maybe you should go home and take it easy for the day, you know, get some rest?"
Gippal suggested, eyeing me with worry. I must've been turning slightly pale at my own thoughts. Or just turning red from all of the frustration.
"Look, I know you guys can't understand, I don't think anyone can, it's just, sometimes it gets kind of unbearable to do anything, I mean he treats her like she's a piece of shit! And then I begin to wonder why she's such a bitch all of a sudden. . .maybe it's because her asshole of a husband is treating her like she's nothing."
"Yeah, dude, maybe, but if you dwell on it so much it's gonna drive you insane! Just try and ignore it, you can't just fix their problems."
Gippal said slowly to my furious response. I clashed my knuckles against the table with rage,
"Fuck that! I don't even think they love each other any more, Gippal! It's like, they're stuck on living with each other. . .they're addicted, but they can't stand each other. And it's making everyone else suffer!"
I clearly imposed that I was indignant towards my father and stepmother's relationship. How could I not be though? It pained me that they lived in the same house and could no longer get along with each other. They practically were always arguing--always biting each other's heads off about absolutely nothing. They got in quarrels over the littlest things, things that shouldn't even anger someone. I knew that they didn't love each other. I believed they did once, but I was positive they didn't any more.
A waitress had noticed my bitter mood and had walked over towards our booth. Ridiculously, I recognized her instantly. Her name was Patricia. She had short light-blonde hair that had burgundy highlights, and her eyes were a faded sky-blue. I had dated her once, and I figured the reason she came over was to try and attempt to cheer me up. My expression showed more irritation.
"Tidus you look distressed, I can get you a free coffee if you'd like, maybe a molatte for the road?"
Her eyes showed nothing but compassion, but with every bat of her eyelashes, I knew for a fact that she was trying to win me over somehow. I immediately got up,
"Nah, I'm okay, I'm just gonna head out."
My uninterested eyes seemed to turn her off, and the guys looked at me apologetically as I stormed out of the place. I didn't want to be rude, but honestly, she was one of those girls that were so dense, it was impossible to strike up a normal conversation with her. Bimbos instantly turned me off, even if I do some embarrassing things sometimes.
And the sad part is, my list of ex-girlfriends, well, let's just say most of them were exactly like Patricia. After dealing with them, I got sick of jumping from woman to woman, I decided to lay low for awhile. Which leads me to where I am right now.
Time went by extremely fast as I approached my not-so-humble adobe. My house was nice, designed well, and actually both the exterior and interior were decent. I just began to abhor the place because of my dysfunctional parents. And stupidly, I couldn't even consider Jessica a parent, because she always bitched at me.
Things hadn't changed much when I got home. Jessica was sitting by herself in the kitchen, drinking some sort of beer that I couldn't see the brand name of. My dad had obviously left since his sports car was out of the driveway. I figured he was off to get drunk--the argument him and Jessica had gotten in had hurt him, emotionally. Whenever Jecht was hurt, he'd rely on alcohol. It was naïve, and childish, but it's one of the reasons I wouldn't be able to stand becoming just like him. . .
"There you are, you selfish brat!"
Jessica spat in displeasure as I entered the living-room. The living-room and kitchen were connected so she easily was able to see me enter. I rolled my eyes heedlessly and headed towards my room, slamming the door in her face. I blocked out her voice by jamming my stereo.
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YUNA
I had fallen asleep easily in the rubbish object which was considered a bed. I had not spoken to anyone in the passed four hours, yet I did not mind. I needed my space, to be alone. Being alone almost seemed like a remedy at the moment, something to appreciate.
I heard a loud slamming noise around one AM, which sounded like a door-slam. I was already awake, having too much slumber, but I decided to get up and find myself something to drink. I was dying of thirst and I hadn't ate or drank anything since the day before.
I headed downstairs silently. My hair was in a ruffled mess, and my mascara and eyeliner had been still smeared, but I was oblivious to it. I was wearing a thin pair of PJ's; a pink tank top and a baggy pair of pants that were a darker pink.
I walked into the kitchen, looking through the coverts for a cup. I tried to keep the noise down, since I did not want to stir anybody. Each covert had different food supplies and dishes in them, and I could not find the cups. I became aggravated, searching through each covert.
"Little Yuna, you'd like something to drink, d-darling?"
I yanked my head out of the covert immediately, hearing a voice slurring from behind me. The voice was grumpy and raspy, and I knew exactly who it had belonged to; Jecht. My heart began to beat faster than I could imagine, my nerves starting to take effect. I had no idea where he had frightened me so, but I was trembling from my knees down.
It was extremely dark so I could not make out his appearance. His eyes were a petrifying dark-brown in the shadows of the night. There had been no lights on, so I hadn't been able to see a thing. I could make out some of his tangled brunette hair, along with his lethargic clothing. He was so close to me that I could smell the alcohol in his breath, and I felt goose bumps appear on my back.
"Yes, I was just l-looking for the cups. . ."
I whispered in a frail voice. He looked at me with unreadable eyes and then began to laugh at me, almost as if he had been mimicking me. I suddenly felt vulnerable and I was clueless on what to say or do. I had no idea why he made me feel so faint-hearted, but the feelings did trouble me a lot.
"Oh, t-the cups. . .of course, you g-gotta come with me, we put them in a special compartment."
He stuttered, the smell of Jack Daniels lingering on his voice. I looked at him with reluctant eyes. I kept on forgetting that this is the man that my mother had admired much during the days she was living. They had been good friends, acquaintances. Why was I afraid of this man? Why did I not trust this innocent man?
I followed behind him as he staggered towards a laundry room that I had never noticed before. Why had he taken me here? I could only look at him with confused eyes, not knowing what to think. He just snickered, inconsiderately, and then closed what seemed like a door. . .
It was a door.
I could not see a thing any more. My first instinct was to scream, but before I could, something had closed my mouth with it's fist. I assumed this would be Jecht. I felt suffocated; I could hardly breathe. I was attempting to force my way out of his grasp.
"You wouldn't w-wanna wake the children, eh?"
His voice was poisonous. It was dirty, filthy. His tone haunted me as he continued holding onto my mouth. I was shaking terribly, and I could feel the tears approaching my bi-color eyes once more. I tried to force them back, feeling very weak and susceptible. I was screaming but through his hand it was hardly but a muffled cry. I was hiccupping with fear, and I kept praying that something--somebody--anything would rescue me from this cruel man. I could hardly breathe underneath his grasp. He was powerful, drunk, but powerful.
"Stop crying, y-you're nothing but a d-dirty whore. . .just like yer' mother."
He spat, his spit hitting me in the face. I could smell nothing but alcohol. I felt so weak, I tried to kick, but his touch overpowered my every move. I had no idea what he was speaking of, though I presumed that he had no idea what he was speaking of either.
"And for t-that sake. . .you will be treated like your mother should've been treated."
His voice was but a whisper, but still cut deep into my skin. I was so frightened, that my entire body was shaking. Tears were streaming down my pale cheeks, which were much more colorless than usual. My entire body had gone numb for being held hostage for so long. I felt him shove me into the dryer, which was obnoxiously running. He forced me onto it,
"I've been needing this for weeks."
He added, precariously. I did not know what he was talking about, or what he planned on doing for that matter. He grabbed violently onto me, first holding onto my breasts,
"W-What--"
I sobbed, not believing what he was beginning to do, while he began unzipping his jeans, aggressively.
"N-no!"
My voice was but muffled, but the tears ran even faster, even worse. I could not break free, and I knew his intentions with me. My assumptions of him were correct--he is nothing but a sick, perverted old man, and now he's attempting to take advantage of a young teenage girl who has never experienced sexual contact throughout her life.
"Shut yer' mouth."
He commanded, slapping me across the face. I could not see a thing in the dark, but I knew he was attempting to strip off my shirt. I tried to overpower him, but once again, he won me over. I cried, and cried, feeling exposed and endangered. It was not right, no it was not. He ripped my shirt off, simply, and placed his filthy hands across my chest, murmuring devilish things into my ear.
I felt disturbingly dirty, and vulnerable.
"G-get off me."
I hissed, hurt and angry. I tried to push him, but he yanked me onto the dryer, hurting my back. I squeezed my eyes closed as the pain engulfed me again. He began to pull down my PJ pants,
"I w-will not let you."
I promised, trying to use all of my strength and get the drunken man off of me. I felt agony as he succeeded in his desires. Why did this have to happen to me? Fear had taken over me completely when I felt his. . . encounter me.
He had turned me around, and I was crying out of pain, before he had even attempted to do anything. And then, I released the pain out in something else. Vividly, it had angered him for he backed away immediately,
"You. . .fucking bitch!"
He cried, letting go of my mouth. I grabbed my clothes quickly as he stood there, freaking out over my release. He tried to grab me, but I was too swift, and I headed directly towards the bathroom, locking the door. I heard him grumble out in annoyance, and I fell down to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
"What the fuck is going on?!"
I heard Jessica wail. I heard footsteps as she trailed downstairs.
"Jecht! What the hell is going on?!"
She questioned, irritation overtaking her tone.
"I asked that d-damn girl if she wanted a glass of water, and she pissed all over me!"
I cried, closing my eyes tightly together. That liar. That filthy liar. I felt so weak, so taken advantage of. I could not even control my sobbing. And I kept promising myself it wouldn't happen again--but at the same time, I was in denial that it ever did. How could the man that my mother was best friends with at one time, try and sexually abuse her daughter? I was an innocent teenage girl. . .I did not deserve this cruelty. I had done nothing.
"Oh, mother. . .how I wish you were still here."
I whispered, looking up at nothing in particular, despair in my eyes.
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TIDUS
I woke up groggy and extremely exhausted, as if I hadn't slept in days or something. I was never that tired. But maybe it was because of all that was happening. I headed to the bathroom, ready to take a shower, but found that the door was shut and locked. I pulled on it, confused,
"Hello?! Who's in there?"
No response. I banged on it with my bare knuckle, not understanding who would just lock the bathroom door and not respond. Suddenly, a brunette-haired girl approached, unlocking the door. Her eyes looked bloodshot, as if she hadn't slept for days. Her eyeliner had been smudged more than I could remember, and her hair was messy. She looked petrified, for no reason whatsoever. I gave her a worried glance, ignoring the fact that I was half-naked in just my boxers.
She didn't say a word, just swiftly walked by me, hiding her face into her hands, as if she hadn't wanted me to see her face. I grabbed her by the arm spinning her around, she began to sob uncontrollably. I looked her in the eyes and found nothing but a broken heart, and I couldn't comprehend why. I tried to search for the answers in just her glance alone, I found nothing.
"Yuna. . ."
"I, the bathroom's. . .open."
She said quietly, her voice nothing but weak. She sounded nothing like the Yuna I had talked to a few hours back. She sounded outrageously depressed and as if she had just been hurt somehow. I wanted to know, but she kept walking passed me as if I wasn't there.
"Yuna, no, wait. . ."
"Please, just leave me alone!"
She wailed, not letting me follow her. She shook her head in a way that proved she just wanted to be alone. I stared back at her, confused and hurt that she would just push me out when she obviously needed to talk to someone.
I sighed, not knowing what else to do, and walked into the bathroom, closing the door.
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END OF CHAPTER