I'll Stop The World And Melt With You
By: xxxbloodydreamsxxx
Reviews:
summerlover1: Thanks! I'm glad you like it I was scared that wrote Warren too OCC lol!
Tyler's Girl 78: Thanks! I guess the names are kinda ironic now that I think about it:)
hexgurl001: I think so too! Thanks for reviewing
Zoey24: Thanks for your review and info! I really appreiciate it!
swimcrazy1793: lol! Thanks!
Thanks for reviewing, guys! I really appreciate it and so does Warren! I hope you keep reading this story Enjoy the slightly shorter chapter!
Mood Music:
Pain by: Three Days Grace
Nobody's Home by: Avril Lavigne
Chapter Two
I am now currently sitting in detention, which takes place in a completely white room which drains your powers. Whoope.
I am sitting in the middle, between Warren and Stronghold, so they don't kill each other. (Although I have to resist the urge to kill that dipshit myself.)
Stronghold was staring down at his desk in complete misery, looking as if he was about to cry. Wimp. How the hell he ended up with super strength I'll never know.
Warren, in turn, was glaring down on his desk as if trying to melt it with his eyes. I wouldn't be surprised if he could. That guy looked like he could roast anything.
And me? I was trying to think of an excuse to explain to my mother as to why I got detention.
"What did I ever to do you guys, huh?" Warren and I looked up to meet Stronghold's acussing gaze.
"You were born," I replied sarcastically.
Stronghold flinched like I had just slapped him. Out of the corner of my eyes, I thought I saw a smirk quriking up at the corners of Warren's mouth, but wasn't completely sure.
After an hour or so, Principal Powers came in and gave us a lecture on the use of our powers and that we shouldn't be trying to kill each because it was bad. She pointed this out to Warren and I very severly and that fighting didn't help us live down our father's reputations.
At that part, I flinched. That was such a low blow. I don't how that woman could've mentioned that without a thought for Warren's and mine feelings.
I wrapped my fingers around the edge of my seat tightly, until my knuckles turned white. I felt worse than I did before. Just because Warren and I were the children of villians didn't make us criminals like them. I was angry at the fact that Stronghold just basically got home free, all because his parents were the Commander and Jetstream.
Principal Powers didn't seem to care that Stronghold had provoked us. To me it seemed like that no matter how much she sweetened her words and sugarcoated her sentences, she still saw us as criminals because Warren and I had villian fathers and she would never see us as anything else, despite the fact that our mothers were heros.
As she was nearing the end of her lecture, tears had sprung into my eyes and I decided that I had enough. I stood up abruptly, head down with my hair framing my face as silent tears slowly made their way down in black streaks.
"I'm not through," Principal Powers snarled, furious that her lecture was interupted. Warren and Stronghold stared at me.
In an angry, shaking voice, I said quietly: "Fuck. You."
And with that, I threw my bag over my shoulders and stomped out of the room. I wiped my eyes furiously as I headed towards the edge of the school. I lept off and let myself fall for a minute or two, the wind whipping my hair back before I flew up sharply, hidden well enough by the clouds so citizens wouldn't see me.
I then flew towards my neighborhood and quickly landed in a tree so nobody would notice. I quietly slid off the tree and headed towards my house, which was just across from me. I noticed with dread that my mom's car was in the driveway so obviously she was home.
I gulped and and slowly walked up the drive. I stopped at the door, wondering if opening it was the best choice. But, as if she had been lying in wait for me, the door was whipped open and there stood my mother, her face red with rage.
"Oh shit."
"Oh shit" was right. Let me tell you something. My mom's generally a nice person to everybody, but when you piss her off, look out! Her little-nice-cookie-baking-Granny facade can pop off as fast and easily like a plastic mask. And trust me, that's not good. Even my father was scared of her when she was angry. (That's what my mother tells me anyway.)
"Get inside," she hissed, her eyes narrowed to slits and nostrils flaring. She was no beauty at that moment; in fact, she looked like a fire-breathing dragon. Except without the fire.
I scuttle inside very quickly, and she slams the door behind me. She follows me to the living room where I dump my bag onto the couch. She points a finger to the couch and says, "Sit."
I sit down immediatley, just waiting for the fireworks to go off.
But for a moment or two, she says nothing. She just paces around the living room, her arms folded behind her back, until she stops in front of me, like a Nazi.
To my surprise, the anger is gone; only sadness and pain are left in her features, which are pretty again since she lost the fire-breathing dragon mask. Tears well up in her eyes, and at that moment, I feel bad.
I had always been a problem child; no matter what my mother did, I never changed, in any way or form. I got into fights back in public elementary and middle schools, physical ones too and not just with girls; I talked back to my teachers, and humiliated and degraded the ones I hated the most in front of the entire class; I told off my mother's friends if they giggled and said how "cute" and "adorable" I was; I always pushed the few kids away that were actually interested in playing with me because I was afraid of what they would think me because of my father and other things that made my mother want to tear out her hair out of frusteration.
My other relatives were the same way.
My grandfather, my mother's father, would sigh and rub his temples; my grandmother, who was actually quite biast and thought girls should be lady-like, would shake her head in disgust and eye me as if I was covered in acid.
My other grandmother always had a pained expression on her face every time she saw me; as if she could tell that I was getting worse and worse; and her husband, my father's father, my other grandfather, was also serving his time in solitary confinment. He was one of Maxville's most infamous villians, known as Commander Chaos to the terrified public, and had been in prison even before my own father was born. Therefore, I was never able to visit him.
I was a disappointment to my family and everybody else around me. Because of me, my mother would hardly go over to visit her parents, and when she did, she never took me because my grandmother hated me and didn't want me around. Visits to my father's parents were even more rare.
Even when I was in elementary school, I hated being near my classmates and preferred schoolwork over my social life. (Or lack of.) Because of this, I was the top student in my class, although this made things even worse for me because not only did the other kids think I was weird for not having a father around and keeping to myself, they thought I was stuck-up and a teacher's pet.
Things got even worse, if that was possible, in middle school, when girls started eyeing boys and worrying about their hair and their clothes and what others thought about them. I was not like them. I didn't think the boys were worth drooling over, and I thought the girls were stupid and shallow for putting so much time into what they were wearing when they should have been focusing on their studies.
I was picked on daily. For three full years, I went through middle school hell. I didn't make any friends and I hardly even talked to my teachers. I despised outings that involved other people or socializing so I didn't go any school dances or games; I thought things like that were frivioulous and a waste of my time when I could've been doing something intelligent, like reading, writing, or drawing.
I passed my classes with ease, and hardly ever had to study so I was free to do the things I wanted, which was, of course, reading, writing, or drawing. I loved reading and was excellent at writing and could come up with short stories within minutes and finish in only hours, so I was put in Advanced Language Arts. I was also the apple of the art teacher's eye, as my drawings were far more superior to my peers and surpassed even the most talented of the older students.
My art and stories were constantly sent into contests and often came back with blue-and-gold first place ribbons which my mother hung either on the fridge or sent to my father, who was serving his time in the Prison for Supervillans, whom replied with letters complimenting my talents and intelligence, that I should follow my dreams (though I had none at the time) and let no one tell me how to live. (Sounds weird coming from a supervillian, huh?)
My father, a villian, best friend and partner-in-crime with Barron Battle, put away in prison when I was only five years old, was the only one to believe in me. He was the only one who didn't lecture me on my faults or tell me that I should be more social. He, unlike my mother, didn't stress over the fact that I didn't have my powers yet at that time and might actually have a chance of being normal, and he didn't even seem to care. He loved me for what I was and wouldn't have anything different. He wrote to me often, telling me I could be whatever I wanted to be, whether it be hero, villian, or neither, and he would still love me.
And that's what makes it so hard for me to hate him. Despite the fact that he's a criminal, a villian, a murderer, he's human like everyone else. He feels pain, sadness, and happiness like everyone else in the world. Everyone says that villains are evil and despicable, but I believe nobody can be truly evil. Just because my father was a villian doesn't necessarily mean that he's completely "evil." He might be cruel and ruthless, but he's still my father and the only person that believes in me. Kinda ironic with him being a criminal and all, huh?
Anyways, when I saw the tears in my mother's eyes, I immediately felt like a criminal myself. Like I had commited an unforgivable crime. That I was like my father, who had broken my mother's heart. She had done so much for me, sacrificed so much for me, and all she asked of me was to change my ways. And I thrown it all back in her face.
I felt tears welling up in my eyes also, but put my head down, ashamed, so she wouldn't see me cry.
"I love you, Raven, and I always will. But this behavior must stop," she said, her voice on the edge of pleading. "I don't know what to do with you. If you keep this up..."
She trailed off as tears made their way down her pale cheeks. I felt something twist within my stomach and before I knew it, my face was wet as well.
I knew what she was thinking. She was remembering of my father's trial ten years ago. Although I had only been five at the time, I could still remember it like it was yesterday...
Flashback, 10 Years Ago
It was a few months after my father, Darkfire, and his best friend, Baron Battle, had been captured. Both of them were sitting in the center of the room, both in their supervillian costumes, at the same small table with a lawyer on either side of them. Opposite them were other lawyers of the their deceased victims. Behind those lawyers, on that side of the room were the rest of the living victims. There weren't that many. On the either side of the room I sat with my mother, whom was wearing her hero garb, clutching my favorite stuffed animal that my father had given me, confused and bewildered.
Next to us sat a tired-looking Mrs. Peace, dressed as a normal citizen, her eyes red and swollen, her thin arm wrapped around a boy a my age sitting next to her. He looked confused also and looked like he was about to cry. Of course, that "boy" turned out to be Warren, but I didn't know that until almost a decade later.
Before the trial started, a policeman came down over to my father and Baron Battle, holding a large book in his hands. "Do you swear to God that you'll speak the truth and nothing but the truth?"
Confused, I looked up at my mother and opened my mouth, but she shook her head and placed a finger on my lips.
"That depends, since I don't really believe in God," my father commented sarcastically. Baron Battle burst out laughing and my father joined him. The policeman gave a compulsive twitch, but said wisely said nothing. I gigged softly, since I was five at that time and thought my father was always funny. My mother pursued her lips and glared sternly down on me when she heard me giggle. I stopped immediately.
My father's lawyer went red in the face and hissed something furiously in his ear. My father's grin faded and he stopped laughing abruptly. He glared at his lawyer, his eyes glowing a neon purple, and clenched his fists, but as he was wearing power neutrilizer braclets on his wrists, he could do nothing but glare.
"Yes, I so humbly swear on the word of your God that I'll tell the truth," my father said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Although I doubt anybody here will believe me."
At that, Baron Battle let out a snort of laughter, but managed to change it into a cough nobody quite believed.
"And you, sir?" The policeman asked him, his tone as cold as ice and sharp as knives.
Baron Battle smacked one palm down on the Bible, nearly knocking it out off the man's hands, yawning before saying, "What he said." My father grinned and so did Baron.
I heard a whimper next to me and I looked up to see tears gathering in Mrs. Peace's eyes. She looked like she was about to burst any moment now. Now that I think about it, I wouldn't have blamed her with the way her husband was behaving.
As my mother reached over to comfort her, I was completely focused on the trail. At that time, since I was young, I had no clue what was going on but it was vague enough for me to understand that my father had done something bad and was going to get in trouble.
But as the trial proceeded, starting with witnesses and such, I grew bored and tuned out most of it, so I can't remember much of it.
Then, my mother was called up to the stands and as she stood up, I got the idea that she was in trouble too and that something bad was going to happen to her.
As she got up, I grabbed a hold of her midnight-blue cape, and clung to it tightly. My mother gave me a reassuring smile and attempted to tug her cape gentely out of my grasp, but I started to wail and wouldn't let go.
At that point, everyone was getting annoyed and impaitent; my father and Baron Battle turned around to see what the commotion was.
The silence distracted me and my mother managed to escape me, much to my dismay. I looked up and saw my father staring at me, wide-eyed and waved to him, grinning madly; I was completely oblivious to the fact that he didn't want me here to witness his sentence.
Baron Battle also caught sight of Warren, and their eyes met. Warren cried out for him and stood up, but his mother sat him down and with that, Warren began to cry.
Since Warren was upset, I got upset too. I got the impression that my father was in danger, also oblivious to the fact that he was the one that was dangerous and began to cry.
The malicious attitudes and sinister grins were gone; only pain remained in the two villian's eyes at the fact that their only son and daughter had to witness their disgrace.
The judge, extremely annoyed, snapped at Mrs. Peace to shut us up or he would throw us out, completely insenistive to her feelings.
Mrs. Peace obliged by wrapping her arms around Warren and drawing him to her chest and turned to do the same with me, being the nice lady she is, but I merely stuffed my face into my stuffed animal to stifle my sobs.
One lawyer began to ask my mother questions. "Mrs. Chaos, how long have you been married to your husband?"
My mother's face was emotionless when she answered his questions and didn't look at my father once. "Almost six years."
"And so that little girl over there... She is your daughter by Mr. Chaos?"
"Yes."
Years from now, when I pondered back on my father's trial, I remember that crude question and it makes me angry at the way they make my mother look like a slut and me an accident on account of my parent's ages.
My parents were both twenty-one when I was born and were just out of college when they married and had me. Because they were young, older superheros looked down on them and the city thought them inexperienced and immature, although they had both risked their lives daily to save the ungrateful citizens.
At least until my father became a supervillian, anyways.
"Has your husband ever abused you, physically or mentally?"
"No. Collin has never treated me wrongly in any form of violence or cruelty."
That part was definitely true. Just because my father was a criminal, that didn't mean he took his crap out on my mother or I. He was such an affectionate and loving person, you wouldn't think for one minute that my father was a criminal.
But then again, looks are decieving. And my father had definitely decieved a hell lot of people.
At that response, the lawyer made a face, most likely disappointed that my father wasn't the ruthless, heartless man everyone made him to be.
The questions with my mother went on and on, until they called Mrs. Peace to the stand. When she made to move up, Warren whimpered and tried to latch on to her, but she pushed gentely back onto the bench.
The questions that had been aimed at my mother were similar for Mrs. Peace. The lawyer was especially brutal with her, as the woman was on the verge of a nervous meltdown.
The rest I forget expect for the last pieces and the words: "Guility!" Several super policemen gathered around Baron Battle and lifted them from their seats roughly. That was enough to make Warren and I scream at the same time and me to shriek in my five year-old voice: "Daddy!"
"Collin Chaos and Micheal Peace; for countless murders of citizens and superheros, I commit you both the Quadruple Life Sentence without possiblity of parole."
My mother sighed and rubbed her temples, and Mrs. Peace began weeping, adding noise to Warren's and mine sobbing.
I hopped up from my bench and rushed towards my father, who policemen were now clamping heavy wristcuffs on his wrists and ankles, and pushed past the policemen and flung myself at him.
The policemen began swearing and attempted to pull me away, but I was stubborn and clung to my father's legs for dear life, so as not to let the bad men take him away.
"Don't go, Daddy, don't go!"
"Raven-"
"Don't leave me Daddy, don't leave me-"
"Raven." My father said my name so firmly my weeping turned into sniffles and I brought my head up from his leg and looked up at him.
His face, so young, was so grim and sad looking he almost looked like he was forty. He wasn't even twenty-seven yet and was being sent to jail for life.
"Don't go, Daddy. Mommy and I need you." I burst into fresh tears at the thought of life without my father. Living in a home without him would make it seem empty and abandoned.
My father sighed and kneeled down to my level. He gentely removed my hands away from my face and wiped my tears with his thumb. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I whimpered, thinking that this would be the last time I'd ever probobly ever hug my father.
"I've done many bad things, Raven," he whispered in my ear, smoothing my hair back with one hand. "Very bad things. Daddy's got to pay the price for them."
"When will you come back?" I asked, eyes brimming with tears again as I buried my head in his shoulder.
"Not for a long time, sweetie."
At that, I began to sob uncontrobbly. My father didn't even bother to stop me. He was about to say something until one of the policemen barked, "Chaos! It's time to go!"
I screamed and latched onto him, planning never to let go for as long as I lived. But my father removed my hands from his neck and kissed me softly on the head before standing up to his full height.
I was yanked up to my feet by my mother and she started dragging me away.
"No! Let me see Daddy!" I screamed, clawing at her.
"No. Daddy's got to leave now."
I stopped struggling as I saw the policemen leading my father and Baron Battle out of the courtroom. I felt myself go numb, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, hearing nothing, not even Warren's sobs echoing behind me.
That was the last time I saw my father as a free man.
End Flashback
I snapped out of my thoughts as my mother started weeping quietly. I got up from the couch and threw my arms around her, hugging her tight.
I'll never let you go, I thought, tears streaming down my face. I'll never let anything happen to you. I'll never let you fall. You've taken care of me by yourself for ten years and I'm going to return the favor. I promise you that.
Later...
After we sat quietly with each for awhile, I got up to prepare dinner for us to let my mother relax. I grabbed the ingredients for lasanga, her favorite.
It had been a horrible day, and my first one too. Those were my thoughts while we were eating and when I got in bed.
I felt myself going numb once more like the day during my father's trial, thoughts rushing around my head like traffic, memories nagging me before I finally fell into a dreamless sleep.
A/N: And that's it. I apolgize if it was too angsty for your tastes. But one of the genres is drama, so... Well, let's just say it wasn't my best. But don't worry, I'll bring back the comedy in the next chapter. (Which should be out sometime during the weekend.) The only real part I liked about this chapter was the flashback/trial. I'm sorry if you thought that sucked also 'cause I really don't know how trials are done. And once again, I left out some parts of the movie. Ugh, I'm such an idiot. Also, there's a lot of spelling mistakes in this chapter 'cause I submitted the document before saving the changes on Word. Yeah, I'm just an idiot that way. Well, I hoped you liked it. And thanks again to the people who reviewed, favorited, or alerted this story. It means a lot to me. Oh, if you feel the need to review this chapter be genetle and don't call my character EMO or MARY-SUE!! If you do, we're going to have problems. Anyways, I'll be working on the thrid chapter tommorw. It's ten and I got to get to bed. Bye!