Warning: Language. Angst.
Awakening
September 2007
Komui was worried. He had dropped Allen off near his house almost a week ago, but the boy hadn't been to school since. He had convinced the school not to call his home, only to receive no answer.. He still wondered what had happened to the boy and really hoped that it wasn't what he had suspected, although the evidence added up. Knowing this, it made Komui feel guilty on top of the worry, he should have stopped the boy from returning to his house, or at least called someone to help. He knew what would happen, even if he also knew that Allen would never admit it. The only things keeping Komui from doing this now were the fear that he may be wrong, however unlikely, and the fact that doing so could make it even worse if he's right. His experience told his that much.
He was very distracted, to say the least. While teaching the lessons to the Science classes for the teacher, he was once or twice corrected by the teacher, and several times by the students. He was a genius in Science in general, but he couldn't keep focused enough to prevent small mistakes and slips of the tongue.
Imagine that, a graduate with as impressive marks as he had, and still he was mixing up Helium and homoeostasis. The two aren't even related. He must really be out of it.
All the time he stood up there explaining (or at least attempting to explain) concepts to the students, he was thinking about the white-haired boy missing from the seat in the far back corner.
He made up his mind, he would go and see Allen later whether or not it was a good idea, and he wouldn't talk himself out of it. He needed to help the boy. If he didn't, who else would? And he needed to know just what happened to the kid after he left him to walk himself home last week.
5 days ago
The day after Cross had barged into his room and shown Allen his anger, Allen woke up, dazed and in the middle of the floor. His torso was stiff and hurt a lot, his breaths were shallow and very painful, his head ached, his eyes were sore, and his arms and legs felt like achy lead. He still felt tired, very tired, but that didn't really matter. He stole a glance at his alarm clock and realized the time.
It was already 2 in the afternoon!? Cross was going to kill him for real this time. He didn't even have a healthy or able body to begin with now. He had to run away somehow without getting caught, but it was impossible. He couldn't even move! How was he going to pretend that he was at school when he couldn't even get up to move his bag? Well, Cross didn't really pay attention to those details anyways. He just had to intercept the call from the school, and Cross would never know or care.
It's not as though Cross had a reason to check up on him, after all. As long as everything that was supposed to be done got done. That means cleaning, dinner, and no interruptions. Allen felt more hopeless by the second. He knew he wouldn't make it to the end of the week, if he even made it to the end of the day. He had to try anyways. Maybe he could force himself to climb out the window?
Allen tried to get up. His body wouldn't respond. He tried to tell himself that he was just tired and his nerves were a little overworked. He tried a little harder. This time he felt pain. A sharp pain shot through his lungs as he was able to shift his body slightly. He did his best to muffle to the noise, but still ended up gasping harshly. It hurt to breathe even more now, but he still had to get up. He had to fool Cross. He pushed himself up as hard as he could and managed to make it to a sitting position.
His pounding head spun, and every part of his body still hurt terribly. He couldn't use his arms or legs with any decent sense of coordination. His plan for fooling Cross by climbing out the window had just figuratively gone out the window.
A sense of panic started to set in as he realized that he couldn't do anything to prevent what was coming. Soon enough, Cross would come in, hungry and wanting to punish Allen for not bringing him food on time. His breathing, already tight after the beating, became even more shallow and short than before. Lightheadedness soon joined him along with a headache and dizziness, and Allen fell over on the floor sideways, giving his body that much more to complain about.
The quietest of yelps came from Allen as he hit the floor. Immediate fear seized him and he stopped breathing while he waited, trembling on the floor, for Cross to come after him. He knew the rules about noise and distractions. After a few minutes, Allen's body reflexively began breathing again for him, although still not very deep. The rapid shallow breathing needed to restore his oxygen made him once again lightheaded as he continued to lay on the floor in fear.
Well, He was screwed now. Allen felt totally fucked. Totally totally fucked. So damn fucked. "Yeah you're fucked all right and all for spite, you can kiss your sorry ass goodbye. Totally fucked will they mess you up? Well you know they're gonna try." Well I know I'm gonna die. That's such a damn cheerful tune! Why did it have come into his head now? Because he's fucked and he would die just as soon as Cross found him. It's not like he doesn't deserve it, after all. It was his own fault. He was late home yesterday and missed making dinner. It was his fault that he let a stupid headache ruin his life. Allen night not remember it, but it couldn't have been worse than this. It was all his fault. He never should have gotten it in the first place and never should have gone to the nurse's station and never should have taken the stupid pills! Allen HATES pills. HATES them. He shouldn't have ever allowed them near him.
It wasn't anything that Allen could fix now. He was stuck with these consequences. For a moment, he almost felt sad for himself. To think that his life would be ended because he took a headache pill. He knew there was a reason to hate drugs, and this just went to prove it.
Allen cried silently as he did his best to shuffle himself to his bed, doing his best not to hurt himself any more. He could at least die in pseudo-comfort. With a large effort that drained the rest of his energy, he somehow managed to push himself up and into the bed. He pulled himself up onto the mattress and passed out a few seconds later from the exhaustion and pain.
He didn't notice that it was 4:30 already, and that school had been done for a while. Cross didn't come to get him and the house was silent, not even a phone call.
When Allen woke up again, he still hurt badly and he was hungry. Very very hungry. But he couldn't move. He was disoriented and didn't know what day it was. His clock told him that it was 4:36. He didn't know if it was am or pm, because he couldn't make himself understand the amount of light in the room. He was dizzy again and felt very cold, but he couldn't get a blanket because he couldn't move his arms.
He coughed a little bit and his lungs shot with pain every time. He felt a some sort of warm liquid coming out of his mouth. Probably drool, he figured. Then passed out again, barely breathing as he once again became dead to the world.
Allen was in and out of it several times, and he didn't know what day it was anymore. He could figure out this time that it was about 3 in the afternoon, but he didn't know how long he'd been out. He knew it must have been at least a couple of days because his stomach hurt terribly with hunger pains as well as with regular pain.
Now in a little better frame of mind, he notice the red on his pillow. Blood. He couldn't figure out where it came from. His head didn't seem bruised, and all he did was lay there and sometimes cough a little. But he tried not to cough because it hurt the worst of everything.
He noticed that Cross hadn't come to get him yet. He wondered why. Maybe because he's dead? Maybe. That wouldn't be so bad. Cross couldn't get him now that he's dead.
Could he let himself believe that he was finally safe? Dead and safe? He had passed on properly, and that made Allen feel just a little bit proud of himself. No one missed him because he wasn't close to anyone, and he wasn't guilty for taking his own life. As pleased as he felt with this acceptance of death, he still couldn't understand why his body hurt. Was it because he was murdered? When people died, did their souls move on with the injuries they had sustained prior to death? Allen let out a small whimper while hoping that the afterlife wasn't actually so cruel. To be hurt like this for an eternity just because he was murdered was completely unfair.
Although, with this afterlife being real, does that mean that a God is real too? Maybe he was wrong not to believe, but this didn't seem like something a fair or just God would do. Not even fourteen yet and already condemned to a hellish misery. Why? He rationalized that it was probably because he was a cursed, lonely, pathetic, ugly, and cruel monster. A freak too. Best of all, he brought it all on himself from the misery, to the bullying, to the white hair and burnt arm. Maybe this God was fair after all...
And then Allen heard someone knocking. It sounded like it was coming from his door. Not that he could reach it or call out to whoever was knocking. Not that there could actually be anyone knocking. If anything, he figured it was a messenger of God here to tell him that he was dead and that he was going to suffer this pain for the rest of eternity, as he had guessed. No need to stay awake for information he already knew.
It was Komui at the door.
"Allen, you in there?" asked Komui. He'd gotten Allen's address from the school and knew roughly where it was from driving him to this neighbourhood a week ago. "Mr. Cross, if you're here, please open up. I need to see your son, Allen. It's quite urgent."
He got no response, but decided to wait a couple of minutes just in case. He then tried again, this time a little more forceful.
"Cross, Allen, I know one of you must be in there. Open up, or I'll have to break the door or a window and come inside anyways." Komui shouted into the house. By this point he was really worried about Allen. Maybe Cross was still at work, or they were on vacation, or there was some other innocent explanation, but Komui was tempted to risk the trespassing and breaking and entereing charges.
A couple of minutes later, his patience had worn out. "Okay, that's it! I'm coming in, so sue me later!" Komui backed up and kicked the door several times with all of his strength. He couldn't break it down, so he beat it a little in frustration. Then he started shaking the handle. The door pooped open.
"Oh, I guess it was unlocked..." Komui said, embarrassed by his lack of common sense and not trying to open the door before attempting to kick it down. A sense of dread crept back up when he thought about why the door might have been unlocked.
He walked inside and smelled rotten food. He looked in the fridge and saw some unidentifiable mouldy stuff. It looked like the kitchen hadn't been touched for at least a week... Oh good God.
Komui ran upstairs to the room that he assumed would be Allen's room. He didn't see Cross anywhere, but he hoped that Allen would still be around. Komui knocked a few times on the door, waited the customary thirty seconds, then opened the door to find a small white-haired boy laying one the bed, covered in nasty bruises and dried blood, and cuddled around a giant gold ball. He gasped, then ran back downstairs to call an ambulance and the police.
He had been right all along. He had been right and he'd waited on it. He didn't do anything. How many times had he himself wished that there was someone out there to help him and not just ignore all the signs? He had betrayed this poor boy, and allowed him to live through Hell. It was his fault for bringing him home that night. Why? Why did he ignore it and not force the boy elsewhere? Even though Allen had refused any help, why didn't he do something anyways? The guilt just ate him up, but he managed to get the ambulance to the house to pick up the boy. He watched as the paramedics did their initial check of his injuries.
"He has a couple of broken ribs and severe bruising all over his torso. Luckily for him, his lungs aren't punctured. His arms and legs are also bruised badly, but thankfully not broken, and he has what look like a couple of recent self-harm scars on his legs. Fortunately there are only a couple, though I can't be sure though, under this damage. It's a good thing you found him here sir. He also seems to be starving, quite literally, and he would have died soon without your intervention. You did good today kid, don't look so down." the ambulance worker explained and reassured. Komui looked like a very traumatized teenager at the moment, probably because he was very traumatized and not much older than a teenager, though many seemed to forget that fact. "He will be okay and will probably be able to leave the hospital in a few weeks. He won't even miss enough school to fail. If he works hard, he'll still be able to pass his courses I'm sure."
"Can I come to the hospital with you? For when he wakes up? I'd like to speak with him when he does." Komui asked
"That's fine with me. You just watch yourself. You don't look to steady. We can give you a brief checkup while you're there too. Just come sit up here and we'll get the two of you on your way." said the paramedic while putting a blanket around Komui's shoulders.
"Thank you." said Komui, releasing some of the built-up tension in his shoulders.
Komui was checked over and told to take it easy for a bit. The hospital staff kept bringing him drinks and talking to him to try to keep him calm. If he needed to talk to someone to help get over the trauma, he was given a list of names of psychologists who could help. He was also informed that the police would likely want to talk to him over the next couple of days to get his account of what had happened.
Once he was steadier on his feet, he thanked the nurse and made he way to Allen's room, waiting for the young boy to wake up.
It seemed Allen would be lost to the world for some time yet, so Komui decided to take a nap in a chair in the room. It wasn't yet bedtime, but the emotional experiences of the day had worn him out.
The next day, Komui heard a little coughing, and woke up to see the young boy wincing in pain, despite the painkillers that he was given.
"Where am I? I'm supposed to hurt more than this. Isn't that what God intended? Or am I just getting used to it. But I'm still in a different place. Why is it different? And where's Tim? Oh no! Where's Tim?! I need Tim! Where is he?" Allen screamed as he worked himself up.
Komui got up to try to calm him. "It's okay Allen. Tim is taking a break for a while." He had no idea who Tim was. "You'll be fine. Just rest a little."
"Komui? Why are you here? Are you dead too? You must have died nicely, unlike me. I'm always in pain because I died this way. It's God's fitting punishment for something like me. I didn't believe he was real, but this proves it." Allen screamed.
Komui was shocked to hear the boy thinking that he was dead, but he did his best not to show it. "No Allen, I'm not dead and neither are you. You're still alive and you're going to get better. Everything will get better."
"But that doesn't make sense. I have to be dead right?" asked Allen.
"No. You were badly beaten by Cross, and I found you a week later when you weren't coming to school. You were on your bed, coughing up blood, so I called an ambulance. You're in the hospital now, but you can leave in a couple of weeks if you want. You won't even have a problem in school." explained Komui gently.
"But... I wanted to die... No! Don't say that Allen!" said Allen, tears rolling down his cheek. Komui was ignored.
But that comment startled Komui a bit. Referring to oneself in the third person is not a good thing unless done as a joke, roleplay, or some sort of activity or game. It's usually a sign of deep mental instability and looking at oneself from the outside so as not to have to be the one suffering, but merely observing instead. Clearly Allen wasn't joking, playing a game, and not participating in some sort of act.
"Allen, if you ever need to talk to me about what happened, I'm here. I always will be." offered Komui
"No! Go away and leave me the fuck alone. I don't need friends here... I don't have friends... I don't want friends... I can't..." Allen trailed off as he once again fell asleep, succumbing to the painkillers and his own exhaustion.
Again, Komui was concerned, but decided to abide by Allen's wishes and leave. He didn't come back again, but as he left, he whispered softly to Allen, "I'm sorry I didn't stop you. I'm sorry I didn't help you sooner."
With that, Komui turned his back and left.
All alone, but still I hear their yearning. Through the dark, the moon, alone there, burning. Allen dreamed the song, and felt it couldn't be more true. His soul, all alone and yearning for anyone to hear him. It sits there, dying, and no one could do a damn thing about it.
He wasn't sure he wanted anyone to, either.
October 2007
Allen was back in school at the end of September and he felt really awkward in all of his classes after not having been there for a few weeks. It was his fault though. He'd just have to put up with it.
In music, Neah tried to question him, but eventually let it drop when Allen had made it clear that he wasn't answering. Playing saxophone was more difficult with the rib bandages, but Allen worked through it.
In Geography, the teacher just pretended that he was any other student. He gave him the homework that he could still do and a copy of the notes from the past few weeks, but said nothing. Allen was grateful.
In Science, Komui ignored him. He took Allen's words seriously, and he knew the boy would know that his offer to talk was still open. He figured Allen would be too stubborn to come to him, but he didn't push it. He knew how hard it was to be in Allen's position, or at least a very similar one.
In English, the teacher chewed him out a little bit for not keeping up with his reading while he was "sick." (That was Allen's excuse for missing class. He was really sick. All of his bandages were under his clothes so he didn't need excuses for those.) She figured that since he had so much time lying in bed, he would be the expert of the class on Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. Since he was not, she told him to catch up. In-class essays for the book were to begin next week and no extra time would be allowed for anyone for any reason other than death. Allen figured that that could be arranged, then quickly beat those thoughts out of his head.
Cross had not come back to the house. Allen was left alone there. He had cleaned up the house when he got back from the hospital, and realized that Cross hadn't been home the entire time. He must have fled, or at least gone on an affair with his latest girlfriend. Either way, it was a stroke of luck in Allen's case. Just as long as Cross wasn't around.
He really had to count his blessings. Cross hadn't taken it farther that time, although he very easily could have. It's not like Allen could have fought back. After all, what's a beaten up skinny thirteen year-old against a large, fully grown, fully capable (and strong-looking) and like Cross? Not much of an opponent.
After cleaning the house, he ran to his room and grabbed his best (and only allowed) friend.
"Tim! I missed you so so so so so much! I'm glad you're okay. Nobody touched you right? You'll be fine? That's good. I'm glad you're doing well. Nobody hurt you or took you away. You're the only one I can count on Tim. I can't let anyone else get near me. All they'll do is hurt me. And then hurt me worse. No one can help. That's why I've got you Tim. You are always here when I need someone. And you will never betray me. I know that Tim. I don't even have to ask.
"And I'm really happy that I get to see you again. I didn't think I was capable of feeling happiness any more, but now I remember it. Just because I see you here Tim.
"I know you are probably tired Tim, and you definitely need a bath, but I need to ask if you could just listen to me for a little bit. I thought that I was dead when I was first in the hospital. I thought that I was dead and living in the same pain I died in was God's punishment upon me for being such a wicked and cursed person. Do you believe that Tim? I actually believed in God, in a deity. But I guess you can be desperate when you're dead huh? Or at least when you think you're dead. I almost sort of wish that I was...
"Bad Allen! Don't! I'm sorry Tim. I try really hard. These thoughts just pop up sometimes. I just want to be normal, that's why I'm trying to get rid of them. Being normal is what it takes to survive. Darwin's evolutionary theory. If you apply it to nature, and then plot a characteristic strength on a graph and compare it to a sample population, you will end up with a bell curve shape, if evolution progresses normally, and reaches a stable point. The normal, average ones are in the middle with the highest frequency of occurrence. Normal survives because it is wanted. Normal lives, the rest die. This is why I must be normal. Be normal or die. I almost did.
"At least I can still get food. They gave me food at the hospital because I was starving. For real, not just a figure of speech. Now I can make myself stuff again. That's a good part. And Cross can't complain because he's gone. I don't have him here... any... more..."
Allen cut off. The tears that were slowly falling before began falling much more quickly, in a steady stream. These new tears were not tears full of pain, regret, or sadness. These one's were tears of relief.
Now I can continue school as normal. I can be normal for once. Maybe. I can try. And maybe then, everything will be okay. Maybe it'll be okay. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
But I somehow doubt it.
A/N: The two songs are Totally Fucked and Those You've Known from the musical Spring Awakening.
