My Tourniquet

*The italics in the beginning of this chapter is the small rape scene. Gaze over it if this offends. You've been warned.

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West Island, Orb, New Year CE 72:

She put up one hell of a fight. Anyone would agree as she twisted every which way to escape her father's iron grip, the hard liquor on his breath enough to nauseate her. His free fist connected with her cheek twice before he threw her on the floor of his bedroom. Her vision was already dark and her head swimming from the blows. The already dim room began to double and shift.

Amy heard the slight clank of a belt and tensed as the leather strip whipped her chest and stomach. She curled in a ball, huddled tightly. Then he grabbed and yanked the girl up by her raven locks and threw her against the bed. As he took the moment to undo his pants, Amy regained her senses and tried to bolt for the door. She made it to the hallway and started to run down it. She ran into the bolted front door and tried to undo the lock with trembling hands. The chain clattered against the door, and then it was free but as Amy reached for the doorknob, he caught her coarsely by the waist and threw her back.

Amy pushed herself backwards, standing up and running for her old room. She knew there was a dead bolt on the inside. She stumbled a few times, clumsily making a run for the room. When he caught her by the bruised wrist again, Amy swung around and raked her nails across his cheek. Little beads of red began to seep through the marred skin of his haggard face. All it did was fuel his rage.

He threw her against the wall, pinning her there by the shoulders. Her skirt was lifted to her stomach, over her hips. He thrust deeply into her body. Pain shot through her body, ceasing her struggle. He began thrusting into her body, hard and coarsely. Amy finally began to scream coarsely as his erection pounded into her. When she began to use her hands to hit him, he pinned her arms against the wall without any effort.

"Stop!" Amy sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut. Hot tears still escaped down her cheeks. Her cries only made him thrust harder each time. "Stop!"

Then just as suddenly as it began, the man stopped. When Amy opened her eyes, blinking away tears, her father was unconscious on the floor. Paul reached over and pulled Amy into his arms. The girl collapsed, gasping to fill her lungs with air. He cradled her carefully, smoothing out her skirt. Once she had calmed down enough, Paul pulled her up and led her out of the house.

Soon his parents' run down home came into sight. His mother's flowers made it look better than it was. A creeping fear snaked up his spine. Such horrible memories flooded back to him from the last New Year's. Painfully like he had done to Amy, Blake dragged Kira by the arm to the door of the house. His mother opened the door and glared at Kira. Without a word, Blake shoved the boy into the house and bid the woman good evening with a dark smile. Kira began to feel relieved that Haruma wasn't there but it faded quickly when his mother turned and slapped him hard.

Caridad had never hit Kira in his life…ever.

She said nothing but glared at him. Then he noticed the bruise starting to color her left cheek. He was sure that wasn't the worst of the damage inflicted.

"How could you just leave like that?" she hissed. "You just left me here alone!"

Kira glared. Before he could say anything, he felt his body being pulled roughly into a darker room.

Slurred, incoherent words spilled from the older man's mouth, laced heavily with alcohol. Sadly, Haruma was much stronger than Kira was. The slender teen was thrown violently into a wall smudged with dirt. Tools rusted orange and rotting boards occupied the corners. A remodeled room never finished.

"So where have you been?" Haruma said carelessly, taking another swig of a beer bottle in his other hand.

Kira remained silent. It didn't matter. Whether he answered politely, rhetorically, pleadingly, or nothing at all, it would all end the same. Before he could react in any event, the larger man swung the bottle and broke it over the side of Kira's head. Glass shattered in many pieces, some digging into his flesh, though not too deep. Blood, deep red, speckled the ground and trailed down his broken skin. Sadly, it wasn't enough to knock the teen unconscious. As he lay painfully on his side, Haruma kicked him into the stomach and chest too many times to count. More crimson liquid fell from his cut lips. Broken glass and old alcohol stabbed into his body. It all hurt so much. But all Kira could do was gasp sharply each time.

Finally the kicks receded. "So…where the fuck have you been, boy?"

That's how it had become. He wasn't Kira, the son he adopted and loved. It was boy, someone he openly vented his violent frustrations on. Kira managed to look up at him with a weakened glare. "Away from here."

All it got him was another savage kick in the gut. Weakened and hopeless, Kira slowly began to push himself up. More shards sliced into his hands. But even a drunk Haruma saw a rising injured teen as a rebellious threat and didn't bat an eyelid as he picked up a thin old board only to smash it over the young man's back. Wooden fragments joined glass, torn flesh, and blood. Kira stayed down, eyes squeezed shut. Where else would he be safe than that of his mind and old memories. Laughing moments in the park now turned to hoarse shouting. Bright birthday parties with his sister and family melted into nothing like candle wax. Warm embraces and smiles grew cold and frosty each night that passed under the glowering moon. It only goes to prove that life is a cheat.

It was dark before Haruma left finally. Kira lost the minutes or hours that passed. Everything was numb. He couldn't even grasp his last thoughts.

The light pierced her tired eyes, adding to the splitting headache consuming her brain and the feeling of being ran over by a semi. "Where the fuck am I now?"

A familiar voice replied, "My house. Paul and Dave brought you here last night. Feeling like shit?"

"Yeah," Amy sat up slowly and looked at Kara. "What a New Year…I can't tell if it rocked or sucked."

Kara smiled wryly. "That depends if you mean New Years Eve until the end of party or New Years Day after the party. The day is what sucked."

"Point taken," Amy groaned, standing up with care. "The others here?"

The girl nodded. "Paul and Dave crashed on the couch. I let Deanna use my room. We came here after the club."

Amy stretched her arms around, rolling her neck. She didn't often sleep on her arms. The two walked out and saw the two guys sacked out on the old couches. Amy smirked. "Dorks."

Kara almost laughed and just smiled. Paul did look like one, sprawled on his back, limbs spread around, jaw slack. Some tough guy. Amy frowned. "Where's Kira?"

"Huh? I thought he may be at home," Kara said. "He didn't –"

"You idiots!" she screamed. Dave jumped up in a daze, only to fall to the floor. Meanwhile, Paul just mumbled something, not really reacting to his screaming companion.

"What the hell, Amy?" Dave moaned, hauling himself up again. "It's only nine in the morning."

Amy glared. "Like I give a shit. You two idiots didn't get Kira last night, did you?"

"Tone it down," Paul muttered. The singer narrowed her eyes and stormed over to the couch side.

"Get up," she said slowly. "Or you'll regret it."

"Excuse me for being up until four hours ago," Paul retorted. "Last time I checked, I was saving your ass…or rather –"

He didn't finish that thought as Amy hit him in the chest. "Yeah, but what about Kira?"

"What about 'im?" Paul said, sitting up. "He's not here, if that's what you're asking. Probably laying low."

"You asshole! Blake took him, too!" Amy shouted.

"What!" the three exclaimed.

Paul groaned, smacking his forehead. "You have got to be shitting me? You mean Blake had him, too? I thought it was just you he nabbed. Damn."

"He got us both," Amy snapped. "Let's go."

The streets were empty considering many people were still asleep. Traffic was hardly a problem. Taking some of the 'safer' shortcuts, Amy led them to the neighborhood that Kira's parents lived. In another minutes they were standing in front of his door. The dirty car his father used was gone, which was good news for them. Amy knocked. After five minutes, the door slowly opened and dull eyes peered through.

"Yes?" Caridad whispered.

"Where's Kira?" Amy demanded.

The first thing he felt was pain, though somewhat numbed. The second thing he felt was that he was laying on a bed with crisp sheets. The last thing he barely felt was an IV line in his arm. What he saw was Amy sitting over him.

"About damn time you woke up," she griped. "This is so cutting into our practice time."

Kira would have laughed but could barely manage a smile. It was hard to move his head and arms. The last thing he remembered was…something. Something but not a good something. What ever it was, Kira was not interested in remembering it too soon.

"We're even," Amy said, "just so you know. That little note to Paul saved my skin. Anyhow, you've been out for the last two days. You probably feel like shit. Oh, and don't expect me to do that again! I hate other people's blood. It's just gross. Got it?"

"Sounds like a plan," Kira hoarsely replied. The raven-haired singer helped him take a sip of ice water. "Thanks."

"Cutter?"

"Huh?"

She ran a finger along his arms, tracing the healing scars. "Slit the wrists for kicks kinda guy?" When he didn't answer right off, she added, "Don't worry. Nothing new to me."

"What?"

Her tore her eyes away from his, "I used to do that, too, in middle school. Deanna still cuts pretty heavy."

"Didn't know that," he murmured.

The girl shrugged. "Old news for me. It's pretty obvious to some. Anyhow, the doctor says you'll be able to leave in a week or so but it'll take at a while to heal completely. Said you lost a shit load a blood…had to do a transfusion…and a skull fracture. Add a couple of bruised or broken ribs and nasty gashes on the back. Probably other hairline fractures and what not. I didn't listen that well. At least you can still play the guitar and write. But when you get out, we're all staying at Kara's place for a while. Her old man's staying outta town for a couple more weeks. Then we'll figure something out from there."

Kira listened to her ramble on for a while longer before finally falling asleep somewhere in the middle.

Cold rain poured from the grey skies, washing the world below of the dark horrors. Or at least, that is what some poetic person would preach. All Amy saw was water dampening the ground and the people running around in it. Sometimes she wondered where people got such silly ideas. Wondered what they were looking for.

She sighed and relented to changing her wet clothes for dry ones. Then she hauled her laundry to the washer after seeing that her only clean clothes wouldn't cut it for school the next morning. The last week and a half went by slow and fast in spurts.

The days following New Years rolled by like molasses. Kira recovered slowly, able to be brought to Kara's home after a week and a half of hospitalization. Days before school started again, the molasses turned to water. He was able to walk around without much pain by the time school began. The first day back was no thrill. Same classes, same dull teaches, minus forth hour each. Amy was scarcely around after class. When asked, she announced she was looking for apartments for the group so they could all move out. In a unanimous vote, they joined together to search for a new home, which was slow given that they were still confined to school most of the week.

"I say, this composition and add a piano opening," Paul suggested, throwing down packet of wrinkled papers, all with hand written music notes in blank ink. Amy picked it up and flipped through the candidate for their next song. The parts were for one guitar, one bass, and the percussionist but that was easily rectified. Looking closely at the opening measures, she tried to imagine the song in her mind.

"What does it sound like?" she asked when unable to imagine it. Paul snatched the sheets and looked at them with Dave.

He nodded, "I think we wrote that one late eighth grade. I thought it was okay, nothing…spectacular."

"Yet," Amy added with a smirk. "Do it. Lyric ideas?"

"Not until I hear it," Kira said without looking up from his own work.

Amy narrowed her eyes. "Paul, play a bit from it now. I want lyrics done today."

"What's with the sudden 'let's-do-this-in-a-day' deal?" Dave asked. "It took us two weeks to put music to the first song and another two weeks for the second one. Take our time, Amy. There is no rush."

"I'm bored," Amy said. "And I feel like we could do better."

"FYI, we haven't done much with 'Imaginary'," Dave retorted. "Why the sudden need for a new song?"

"I'm feeling productive," Amy snapped. The trio rolled their eyes or sighed, giving into her demands. A quick minute review gave them enough to play a few seconds of the song. It wasn't quite adequate but it would do.

"All righty, then," Paul said. "Now what?"

Amy thought for a moment before saying, "You three work on refining the music and such. I can start composing the piano opening you suggested. Kei, work on lyrics. Let's try getting most of it done today."

"Yes, Your Bitchiness," Paul mocked her. Amy flipped him off, to which he simply laughed. She began playing around with the keys of the wooden piano, toying with the sweet notes. She scribbled her fair share of notes on her notebook before their lunch hour was up.

"Catch ya after class!" she called over her shoulder as they ran to their next classes.

West Island, Orb, Summer CE 72:

"God damn it, you jerk!" Amy screamed. "Help me! This damn box is heavy."

"It's your shit," Paul replied coolly, nevertheless walking over to her and taking the box. "Damn, what do you got in this? Bricks?"

"Ha, ha. For your information," Amy said, "that happens to be your box o' shit. All of the music and CDs."

"Really?" Paul balanced the box on one leg to peek into it. "Oh yeah. I was looking for those. My bad."

Amy sighed and walked back down the stairs. The metal stairs on the side of the building were compact and old but working better than the elevator. In front of the old brick building, Em set down the last couple of boxes from his car. He slammed the back door shut. "I think that's everything. Does anyone else need stuff picked up?"

Amy leaned over and picked up the next box, which was held together with duct tape. "Not that I know of. My place was the last of us. We'll probably do some shopping later to get the necessities."

"Long live thrift shops," Em muttered. "You got everything from your place?"

She gave him a look, "I hope so 'cause I am not going back there. The crazy man threatened to kill me if he ever saw me again."

"Okay, I can definitely feel the love there," Em shuddered. "Lemme park the car, and then I'll come up and help."

"Cool."

Then they heard the car door open and close. The little girl that was Em's joy came around. Amy and Em started laughing as she looked at Amy and picked up a small box. When Amy began walking to the stairs, the little girl followed. Unlike Amy, Emmaleigh was shorter. Em kept laughing as she tried to just walk up the stairs. Finally, sticking her bottom lip out, Emmaleigh set the box on the third step and then climbed up. She continued stepping up behind the box until Em walked up behind her a minute later. She had just made it past the second level.

"No, I do it," she pouted when her father tried to take the box. He backed off and waited behind her.

When she at last picked up the box and walked through the door of the third level, Em applauded her accomplishment. Meanwhile, Amy was chasing Paul to the second apartment with a drumstick, over which Deanna threw a hissy fit.

"Don't ruin that!" she whined. "I love that pair. And there're better things to murder Paul with."

"You're right," Amy relented, giving it back.

Emmaleigh gave the little white box to Amy and timidly stepped into the strange but cluttered room. As the two girls and Em moved back and forth, Emmaleigh stood in the corner just by the door, gazing around.

The walls were white and bare. The kitchen was to the right of the door, with thin half wall separating it from the entry area, forming a U-shaped kitchen. A window was across from the door, over a large space now filled with a stack of boxes and bags. Gingerly stepping over the grey carpet to the edge of the kitchen's border, Emmaleigh peered around the room. Deanna strode from a room closest to the kitchen. The door was a plain wood, half finished. A few feet down was a second door in which Amy and Em were. Finally, a third door was at the end which was the bathroom.

While Kira was laid up with everyone else at Kara's place, Amy took the liberty of apartment hunting. Her short search led her to her dream location. 1666 W Oni Street. The old apartment building was owned by an older lady, Audrey O'Dreary, who was pleased to rent to the abused teenagers. She apparently took to Amy's story and let them rent two apartments. She even insisted on them redecorating any way they wanted.

Emmaleigh weaved her way to the window and peered out. A large graveyard was across the street with the early summer sun casting shadows all over. An occasional raven flew past the area.

"Emmaleigh, come help, sweetie," Em called from the hallway.

"Okay!" She took the bag he offered her and sent her to the second bedroom. Amy was inside pushing a couple of boxes to the corner. When Emmaleigh walked in slowly, Amy noticed and took the bag.

"Thank you," Amy sweetly said, peeking in the bag. Boxes and baggies of jewelry and assorted accessories she had packed earlier. A black and hot pink striped barrette lay on top of the pile. Reaching in, Amy pulled it out and clipped back the little girl's bangs. "There."

Emmaleigh giggled in delight and rushed out to her daddy. The older girl shook her head and set the bag on top of the boxes for later. Em brought in a couple more boxes for Amy to relocate. By the time the sun had set for the evening, the group had settled down in the guys' side of the apartments for dinner.

Amy's first reaction when she set away the dishes by the sink was yelp, but not quite in fright. It was more from surprise. "Paul! Where did you get that?"

"Huh?" Paul peeked over the couch back at his companion. "Oh, that's my scorpion. A friend gave it to me about a year ago."

"Way cool," Amy peered into the plastic case. She tapped once, making the lethal black creature strike once back. "What do you call it?"

Paul gave a huge grin. "Cookie."

The room was silent for a moment before they heard a thud in the kitchen. They all looked to see Amy lying curled up on the floor. She seemed to be trembling. Suddenly she began laughing.

"You have…got to be…kidding me!" she cackled. Soon the whole room was laughing, with Paul looking a little between indignant and puzzled.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked.

"Please? You named a scorpion Cookie, Paul! That is degrading," Amy gasped, picking herself up off the floor. "The poor thing. Cookie is no name for an Emperor scorpion."

"Yeah, I guess," Paul replied thoughtfully. "It came without a name so I came up with that one randomly. I knew it was weird and tried to change it. It stuck, though. So Cookie is it and so it will remain."

Amy shook her head. "What's next? A tarantula named Cupcake?"

Paul froze and looked at Amy strangely.

"What?"

"I thought about something like that a while ago…creepy," he said. Amy gawked at him while her friends and band mates started laughing all over again.

"You're fucking nuts."