Izaya could define agony as extreme and generally prolonged pain. He could also define it as intense physical or mental suffering. Excruciating was defined as extremely painful, unbearably distressing, and torturing. These words did nothing to describe the sensations that ravaged his body as he collapsed onto his bed. Every inch of his body seemed like it was on fire, and each movement renewed the flame. So he lay as still as he could while pain burned him down to the very ashes of his being.

His stitches had been torn out when his father grabbed his arm to throw him against the couch, but the cuts were barely visible among the multitude of bruises that covered him. If he did so say himself, he looked like a macabre kind of painting, and his father was once suffering artist. The contusions on his skin ranged in color; many of them were dark purple in the center and radiated out to blue before fading into a disgusting yellowish green. Each one had a similar shape yet they were all unique in their own way. Some were larger where his father's fingers pressed in more, and some had more than one violet center because of the way the knuckles hit his skin. Yes, he was quite the masterpiece.

He hadn't cried out once during the onslaught. Any sort of sound he made would serve to enrage his father even more. That was the reason why he never complained about the injuries he sustained during his fights with Shizu-chan.

Shizuo.

Izaya found himself muttering apologies to the blonde. The reasons for each apology were everything from stealing his milk to hitting him with a truck. He repeated the words 'I'm sorry' over and over once he ran out of justifications for his apologies.

"Oh, Shizu-chan," he mumbled. Saying the brute's name out loud caused him to instantaneously burst into tears. They soaked through his pillow and made his cheek cold from the damp cloth. Whenever he sobbed, the vibration would rattle his fractured ribs and intensify his pain that much more. Still he couldn't stop himself from weeping.

Combined with his whimpers and the blood pounding in his ears from an adrenaline rush, there was no way for Izaya to hear the faint sirens and hurried voices outside the apartment. He lay unaware of the six officers that were pounding on his apartment door. And his father had no idea that a pair of cold metal cuffs would be placed around his wrists when he went to greet their guests. Izaya was only alerted to their presence when a female officer kicked open his door. If he had possessed the strength to flinch he would have, but all of his energy had been spent on keeping himself alive and crying. The woman examined his wounds quickly before speaking into the walkie-talkie clipped to her shoulder. Two paramedics entered the room within the next minute and coaxed him onto a stretcher. Izaya couldn't fight off the feeling that he'd done this before.


All was quiet when Shizuo arrived at Shinra's house. His friend was curled into Celty's side on the couch and clutching the phone in his hand with a vice like grip.

"Did he do it?" Shizuo asked cautiously. Celty 'looked' at him and 'nodded'. She typed on her PDA quickly, holding it up for him to read.

'The police are already at Izaya's apartment. They said they'd give us an update on the situation within a few hours.'

"Thanks," he choked out. He didn't
need to specify anything because she already knew. He was thanking her for doing what he was too stupid to do.

'Don't beat yourself up over this, Shizuo. You're still a kid and I wouldn't expect you to know what to do in a situation like this. You thought you could handle it. You all did.'

Celty was referring to the three of them; Shinra, Izaya, and himself. They all assumed they were mature enough to take care of things without any help. It was a moronic notion but Celty said it herself: they were just kids. Nobody could expect them to think with logic all of the time.

Shizuo sat himself down in the chair across from Shinra and Celty, not sure how to handle himself anymore.


In the two hours that he had been in the hospital that night, four different people came to inspect his body, each with an entourage of their own. Pictures were taken and assessments were written on papers hidden from his line of sight. They must have been writing something they didn't want him to see from the way they kept tilting their clipboards at odd angles when they got closer to him.

Izaya was relieved when the last group left and a lone man walked in, dressed up in a suit and a tie with yet another clipboard. One on one's were easier for him to handle.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, is that alright?" the man asked as he took up residence in one of the plastic chairs.

No, it's not alright. "Of course."

"Were these," he motioned to an ugly bruise on Izaya's cheek with his pen, "afflictions caused by your father, Shirou Orihara?"

"Yes."

"How long has this been going on for?"

"The beatings started when I was nine. He's been neglecting me since I was six."

"I see. These," another gesture was made with the pen but now towards a cut on his arm, "lacerations-"

"They're cuts."

"Excuse me?"

"Just because you use fancy words doesn't mean the situation is any better. They're cuts."

"Ah. Yes. I apologize. These cuts were self-inflicted, yes?"

"Correct."

"And you have also tried to commit suicide?"

"Right again."

"Because of your home life?"

Izaya paused for a second. There was more to his suicide attempt than just that, but he figured it would do. "Yes, you could say that."

The man stood up, scratching down a few more words on a new sheet of paper. "That's all I'll be needing to know. I realize that it's soon, but you'll be making an appearance in court to testify against your father in three days. Answer the judge honestly and make sure you have the story straight beforehand. And just remember, Izaya, he can't hurt you anymore."

He already has, though.

It was pointless to try and tell him that he was now safe, because the damage had already been done. There was no fixing him. The only end to this would be death. Izaya would have to live with these scars, both mental and physical, for the rest of his life. Safety meant nothing to him now. After living through what he had, there was no reason for it. He could survive regardless of the situation because survival was all he'd ever known.


Shinra gave a final nod and put the phone back on the receiver.

"Izaya is in the hospital again. He'll be showing up in court in a couple of days," Shinra said, relaying what he heard from the chief of police. Celty stood up and pulled him close to her, holding on tightly. Shizuo remained where he was on the chair.

"Thanks. Are we going to get to see him?"

Shinra shook his head. "They don't want him to have any visitors right now. The only people that get to see him are Mairu and Kururi."

That finally got Shizuo to move. He stood up quickly, the chair moving back with the force of the action. "That's bullshit! They don't give a damn if he lives or dies so why do they get to see him and not us?!"

"I-I don't know," Shinra said as he flinched closer to Celty. Shizuo balled his fists but didn't yell anymore. "And th-they do care. They don't show it a whole lot because they think Izaya doesn't like them. He's their older brother, Shizuo. Did you not see the flowers they left for him in the hospital?"

Thinking back, Shizuo hadn't even noticed any flowers in Izaya's room when he went to see him. This was most likely because he was too focused on how gaunt Izaya looked in that starch white bed.

"They were just little daisies, nothing special," Shinra continued. "The girls picked them when they were walking to the hospital. They grew out of a crack in the s-sidewalk but it's the thought that counts."

Guilt and pain ripped through Shizuo like a bullet. How had he not gotten anything for Izaya during the entire time that he was bed ridden?

He was determined now; when he finally got to see Izaya, he'd give him flowers, and balloons, and goddamnit he was going to hug that little flea until he just couldn't anymore.


Now reader, don't get mad at me because Shizu-chan didn't kick Izaya's dad's ass. Things just weren't gonna go down like that no matter what y'all said. Sorry.

But look at the last sentence right there! It's cute and fluffy and yes! I believe that makes up for all of the disappointment you must be feeling right now.

Well, whatever.

I was going to put some review respones at the beginning but there are so many people I want to thank that I'm just going to do it here. Thank you so, so much to everyone who has reviewed on this. You're all so sweet to me and it makes my day when I get reviews from you :3 I love you all!

~Chickadee