AN1: Hey, this is an early update since I got some new readers, which commented so thank you from the bottom of my heart for uchiha hinata21, and Yaoi Tama (though I'm not sure Tama arrived at this chapter), had me so happy…I can't even express my gratitude. Virtual cookies for everybody!
This chapter has been beta'd by konakisen.
Well, now, reading time, earlier since as you can figure it out, it is a reward. There are sad news too but you'll find them out in AN2, until then, I'll let you be happy:
From the previous (last) chapter:
The door's opened by no one else but the duo.
I can tell since I finally turned around and they both look at me suspiciously.
"You done dirty things tonight, she kept you awake or something?" Cloud is as usual, trying to joke, but as they say: the truth is told in jokes, most of the time at least.
"Leave me off the hook today; I'm not in the mood." These words are too loud for my ears though they are spoken by me.
"Wuhu, chill bro, and eat. Our stories are long as heck!"
I lift my eyebrows in question at his sentence.
While at the same time, Ryuu slides the breakfast insides our cell, or cage.
Sisay finally took a glance at my eyes, and her face looks concerned. But she says nothing.
'Probably, she thinks it's her fault.' This thought speaks in my pulsating head, out of nowhere as I watch her taking the food from the floor.
"You forgot? We said we'll tell you guys our story!" Cloud sat down on chairs they brought, looking prepared to ramble all day.
"No, I didn't forget." I lied but I couldn't ignore Ryuu's face which got a little sad at our conversation.
"That'd hurt us bro. Ryuu barely talks when it comes to his past, so you guys must be special so have your ears pointed at us."
His words are full of compassion for Ryuu.
And despite the headache, the red eyes, and the fact that I don't remember when I felt worse. I bring the bed closer to the bars, with Sisay helping me. And we both sit down with breakfast in our lap, staring in front of us at the duo, who are also sitting down but on wooden chairs.
I smile at Ryuu, for he's playing with his fingers, seeming hesitant to start.
And he doesn't even after I smile at him, reassuring him that I'm not judging. For there's one hell of a story on my part too.
He's completely silent, as if he's not in this room.
He doesn't look up. Not until I see Cloud's hand taking Ryuu's hand. Stopping him from playing with his fingers, and somehow, that gesture alone, succeeded.
Ryuu smiles back, and just then, starts to say his story.
The actual (new) chapter:
The weak rays from the sun enter from the closed windows which once had white persiennes, but now, they are covered with dust, having a dirty yellow color.
To be sincere, the dirty yellow color suits the dirty old pale green color of the almost completely peeled off wall.
The ceiling stays to fall, the whole house being incredibly old, the ceiling it once had was a pale blue color with a certain design, but it's almost inexistent, it exists just in the middle, where just a bulb hangs, dead.
The floor has its own song, the wood which can squeak and which can also sing a different song each time it has a chance.
The few rays reach an old mirror which has some black spots, missing some pieces of it now and there, its frame it once had a golden color, maybe it was even gilded, I wouldn't know, because now there are just some random weak golden parts of it above the lower layer, which in the present are the only ones that hold the mirror, the lower layer it's made of pure old wood.
The mirror is supposed to be one with the wooden table that's below it, the thing still has a few drawers, and some of them still have handles made from wood with some flower design on it, the same as it is on the frame of the mirror.
I imagine that it once has been a marvelous and expensive makeup table, like the ones that the celebrities have or at that time, the beautiful women, and from what I know, it was bought even from when the girls were very little.
"What age were you when it was bought for you, mom?"
Chapter 21: My story (part 1)
This old makeup table is all that I have from you.
'No.' I thought quietly but firm, while I looked in the mirror, the dim light from the rays of the sun making my face visible in the old mirror.
This makeup table, my red hair, the feminine features of my face, my soft white skin and even my weak and slim body are all from you, yours.
'And my green eyes.' I thought while I closed my eyes, blocking the pain like it came from the old mirror.
For me, this is some kind of irony, to stay in the room of my mother, her only room, her entire life she has been here, she has looked in the same mirror, her reflection in it, my reflection in it, our reflection in it.
More, for me, this is some kind of cruelty and I know who the owner is.
"Come here! Now! Or I'll kill you with my own bare hands!"
A voice of a male echoed on the outside of the wooden door, the old wooden stairs shaking under its weight and determination, or mostly, anger.
The owner of this cruelty is also the owner of this old house and like he wants to label himself: The one that owns me.
"Brat! I said now!"
The voice continued to yell, his swearing no longer affects me; I've became immune to many things, thanks to him. One of them are his words, good or bad, mostly swears.
"Ryuu!" The demanding voice has said and I already knew. The rare times when he says my name it always ends the same.
He would usually beat me for unimportant things, but when he says my name, it's the worst of the worst.
'He'll kill me...' I barely even finished my thought for the old wooden door fell on the floor in front of me.
This no longer scared me, it isn't the first time and it isn't the last time either.
But what always surprised me is how my body feels the pain of his blows before he even arrives in front of me, before he even hits me.
The man at the door, with dark brown hair, with a weird color in his eyes, which is just inexplicable, and with a tall and massive body talked to me again:
"I'm the one who made you, and I will be the one who kills you!"
This man is my father.
From what he has always said, I am a mistake on this earth, and from what everybody says, along with him, I look exactly as my mother, and they even say that if my mother would've been a man, then she would've looked exactly like me.
The reason why this man, which is my father, hates me might be because I look like my mother.
Along with the rest of the list: I have dreams, I think too much, I am weak, I am like a woman, I don't work like I should for I don't have the 'strength' of a man and mostly, I am exactly like my mother, I look like her and even my personality is the same as hers.
No matter what I do, this person just hates me more.
I gave up on trying to make him acknowledge me such a long time ago that I can't even remember.
"Who do you think you are?" He screams.
And from the beginning until the end, a leg in my stomach so that I will fall to the ground, one leg crushing my cheek until it turns a bit violet, then the countless kicks in my back, ribs, legs, then stomach again, and all this so he can grab me by my red hair which is just a bit after my jaw and then to hit me with his own head against mine, once or twice, or at least until some blood pours from where he hit me, a fist in my stomach so I'll surely remain to the ground.
Sometimes it's more; sometimes it's less, so it depends. Now, he's a bit tired.
While he beats me, he also calls me names but I hear just the beginning of it, because after the first blows, I don't hear a thing, I barely see something, and I don't dare to move, it only makes everything worse.
It also annoys him if I don't recover fast, not to mention to let others see that I have a bruise or something, if someone comes to complain about me, which has happened only once, then I know that the second time, my destination won't be just the hospital.
And so, I lay on the floor, with my eyes closed until I force myself to move, and as always, I crawl to the bathroom.
The ones of my age usually use their money for buying junk food, manga, games, clothes, to go to clubs and other stuff.
I use my money to buy: bandages, pain killers, ointment for bruises, and many other similar things, and also makeup so I can mask the cuts, bruises and everything that might be visible on my skin which would indicate the truth.
It's different this time. Before, I was scared, terrified of him, and I did everything I could just so I won't be beat up, but this time it's different, the reason why the fights have become such an ordinary thing that he also grew sick of it, is because I don't want to give up.
Our family owns a shop, not a popular or wonderful shop, quite the opposite.
We have a house with two floors, and we also have a store but the house has been the house of my mother and the shop is also hers, which once had been quite successful.
Now, if we wouldn't have this old roof above our heads then we would probably be on the street.
We are poor.
We and the entire town, or mostly this part of the town, if you walk enough or mostly, travel, then you can enter the civilization, where you can see a block or a normal store, or maybe something more than hills and old houses.
'The haunted town' isn't explicit enough.
I am an outsider in my way, I was born here and I lived here my entire life and from what my father says, I will also die here.
But I have no friends here; the only friend I once thought was mine was a paid girl by my father, who just wanted to humiliate me more.
The others are all friends of my father, no matter if it's an old woman or a young boy.
So I keep my thoughts to myself, I keep the truth to myself, and I keep everything to myself.
All that I have are my thoughts, and my life, the life from my mother. The rest, it's not mine, it's his.
I almost fell with each step which I've took on the old wooden stairs, after I masked the bruises, after he left me, walking through the old depraved house toward the shop, the shop of our family.
Even in the shop, the walls are made from wood, along with the floor and shelves where we have our second hand goods which according to my father, they should sell.
And because of an inexplicable miracle, people still buy from here, but just because my father gives them discounts and because they are all his friends, and my enemies.
"'Morning my boy, help your father more often, would you? He's old but he works more than you do."
This old man before me with white hair and who has wrinkles all over his face, and also owns the most annoying accent possible because 'My' it's like a 'Ma', and 'you' it's 'ya' and all of his smiles and words are fake, a lie.
This man is more than old, he was young when my mother owned this shop, from what I know, he has liked her, enough to want to marry her, but she refused because she was in love with my father.
And that's why now he is the best friend of my father and my first enemy, he is the one that has 'assumed' that I disrespect the old ones or something like that, and he has told his opinion to my father, who has beaten me so bad that I arrived at the hospital.
He wouldn't allow me, 'cause I am nobody, to dirty the white page of our family, our respect and reputation. Which in my opinion is already black.
But the truth is that I still don't know what the old man has told my father, what I know is that I hate him with my whole being. He knew my mother, he knows the truth about this family and he is the only one who knows it, but he just wants to push us deeper into the mud.
The first time when I wanted to help my father was when I told him about his 'best friend', but of course that he would never believe me, his own son.
"Good morning, how may I help you Mr. Yasuhiro?" My voice is inexpressive as is my face, so he can't complain; a frown appears all over his face before he speaks with a voice somehow distant:
"One pack of sugar." This is all that he said and his accent didn't even make its usual appearance but I don't want to know why he doesn't look at me or if even his accent it's fake.
I immediately brought a pack of sugar and I told him the price, at this, he looked me in the eyes and said without any trace of his usual accent:
"I know." He said as he put the money on the counter, took the pack of sugar and put it in his old bag and then, he left without looking back and without talking with anybody else that is in the shop, which has never happened before.
I robotically served at the shop all day long, and all I could think of were his words.
'I know the price for the sugar, or I know about something else?' He didn't even bother to smile his ironic smile. And his accent was completely gone.
At the end of the day, some students came and bought some beer with real joy all over their faces.
And so, while I walked back to my room, I couldn't help but think:
'I should be in high school now, but instead; I spend my entire day at the shop, because my father thinks that education is futile.'
This has also been a reason for the constant fights, and also, this has been the worse subject for me.
I study but I hide this fact, I love to read and to paint, I think I really have talent even if I wouldn't know because I can't show it to anyone. I really would like to know more about everything. I like biology, history and romance novels are my favorite. But I will never use what I know but still, this is my only pleasure.
As I said, the makeup table still has some drawers, some of them still have keys even if they no longer have handles, the makeup table is the only thing I have left from my mother and the only thing my father won't touch. No matter what, so all my books and notebooks, hardly obtained, are all in there.
Her bed has been used as wood for fire some winters ago, I slept on the floor for several months, almost one year until Mr. Yasuhiro wanted to give me a present for my birthday, and he gave me the bed that I have right now. Mr. Yasuhiro is the best friend of my father so he often comes to our house, not just at the shop so he didn't throw the bed so the people won't be suspicious.
The mystery is how he found out that I don't have a bed and more, this bed is actually good, big and comfy. Which only makes everything worse.
'Wood for fire' were my father's words when he walked into my room some years ago to make an inspection, not just to beat me and he saw the big wooden closet of my mother, which actually had some beautiful design, it had a beautiful wood if that is even possible, and it also burned so beautifully in the fireplace.
I think the big closet annoyed him from when I was even younger because it was my favorite and almost the only hiding place I ever had.
Now, my clothes are in the corner of the room, where the closet once has been, but now I use that corner and the floor as a closet.
'Not that I have many clothes anyway.' I thought as I closed my eyes, and collapsed on the bed, ignoring my hunger until I gave up.
'I can't sleep…again.'
As if the whole world is against me, the house is no different, the floor squeaks with my every step, it's not like I am fat, quite the opposite, I barely even eat, my hunger is the one that doesn't let me sleep, and it's nothing new about it, but like every day when he has beat me, I can live without food, he thinks.
And so, here I am, in the middle of the night in a dark old house on the stairs that lead to my room, and that also lead to a medium size hall.
I walk slowly so I won't make any sound. And when I finally reach the last step, I stop.
I look at my right where the big dining room is or living room, at my left is the kitchen. However, at this hour, someone is in the dining room 'cause the light is on and now that I reached the last step, I can listen to the voices so I will know who is in there and not to my panicked mood.
"I can't believe this..." I heard a voice saying, outraged. I immediately recognized it.
'Mr. Yasuhiro, why is he here at this hour?'
I thought quietly but in the same time, firmly.
"You can't believe many things, my friend."
The other voice is also of a man, my father and I also know that certain tone, he's drunk and Mr. Yasuhiro is not.
He probably brought some wine for him and my father to 'taste' it. But my father being the alcoholic that he is, has drank so much that he is drunk, and the old man couldn't possibly pass the chance to ask my father some personal questions.
But I don't want to know.
I silently continued to walk, until I reached the kitchen and took half of a slice of bread, I immediately begun to devour it like it was the best food I have ever tasted. And it is.
I made some sounds of pleasure just from the bread until something moved some plates on the table in behind me and a bit at my right, right beside the door.
'Not that rat!'
The rat that owns our kitchen or any place where we have food eats better than we do, or at least than I do.
'I think that even a stray dog eats better than me.'
After I took one last bite, I let myself slip against the old wall to the ground, at my left the door stays closed, I stood there in silence for several minutes until a plate fell and shattered, smashed by the sandstone, the rat being the obvious reason.
Petrified in my place, I stood, I even refused to breathe, I couldn't think, the fear took control of me.
"W...who's in the...there?"
I heard a voice saying right after the door of the kitchen, and I already knew that my father has never caught me stealing food until now even if I barely eat a bite, he will think that the food that was eaten by the rat has been eaten by me.
In his drunken state...
'God take me now...' I thought while I closed my eyes and in the same time, the kitchen door was opened with such force that it hit the other wall.
I didn't look but I realized that the weak light was on, and I could hear that they are both in the kitchen at my left.
"You fifthly rat!" I heard my dad saying and I knew that he wasn't talking to the real rat but with me.
I opened my eyes to see my father with a bottle of wine in his right hand and with red cheeks. Mr. Yasuhiro stands behind him with a both confused and worried face, and then he began to talk to my father:
"William, calm down, he was probably just..." He said but my father cut him off with his screams but I understood every word that he said.
And I don't think I'll ever be able to forget.
All this has happened in seconds or maybe because my heart was beating so fast, it all looked terrifying.
"This is the last time you'll steal from me!" He yelled, his voice, perfectly clear.
And then, I saw red and black, I knew 'cause I could see everything for a while, the bottle smashed by my head, the one that has smashed it, my own father.
But after that, my father left as if nothing had happened but Mr. Yasuhiro kneeled in front of me and put both of his hands on my cheeks, covering them with blood.
I saw his lips moving, I knew that he said something but I couldn't hear, I could just see and I couldn't understand.
My ears howl so much that I couldn't hear anything and soon, I couldn't see anything but black.
I lost my conscious.
When I woke up it was with a severe headache, my eyelids too heavy to lift, my body too heavy to move, and the reality seemed just unbearable.
However, after staying unmoved for more than I could estimate and after falling asleep and waking up without moving for too many times, I finally decided that I should know where I am.
Being completely without any clue but didn't really want to know either. What I knew without opening my eyes was that I am on a bed, the only thing I could realize. It's too soft to be the floor.
And just when I decided that I will never open my eyes again, I heard a voice of a man talking to me:
"Wake up already!"
I didn't know from where it came, but what I knew is that it wasn't a voice of someone that I knew and the tone was annoyed and without patience.
After staying many minutes in silence, I opened my heavy eyelids to look at a completely white ceiling.
'I am in a hospital? Again?' I thought quietly and a sigh wanted to come out but I stopped it.
'It hurts to breathe...' I thought and I closed my eyes again.
"Don't dare to fucking fall asleep again!" I heard someone screaming and without knowing why, I opened my eyes.
I realized that the voice came from my right.
When I almost completely twisted my neck with much difficulty on the white pillow, I succeeded enough to stay like that and to stay with my eyes open, and it was only to meet dark brown eyes, black hair, pale face with a scar on its left cheek and thin lips.
'Another patient?' I thought but I said nothing.
"How the hell can you sleep so much?"
He asked me, and I didn't know how to react, it was like it didn't matter who I am or that I never saw him in my entire life, still, he swears but he's also concerned about me, it's like... he's so...warm.
"...how much..." I asked with a broken voice and it hurt just to look at him but I somehow kept my eyes open just so he won't yell again.
"Three fucking days." He said like he's making the most obvious statement, but still a bit ironic.
"Who the hell brought you in this state?" He asked with a frown on his face.
And it all rushed back to my tired mind:
'All this happened in seconds or maybe because my heart was beating so fast, it all looked terrifying.
"This is the last time you'll steal from me!" He yelled, his voice, perfectly clear.
And then, I saw red and black, I knew 'cause I could see everything for a while, the bottle smashed to my head, the one that has thrown it, my own father.
But after, my father left as if nothing had happened but Mr. Yasuhiro kneeled in front of me and put both of his hands on my cheeks, covering them with blood.
I saw his lips moving, I knew that he said something but I couldn't hear, I could just see, but just couldn't understand.
My ears howl so much that I soon couldn't hear anything and soon, I couldn't see anything but black. I lost my conscious. '
I wanted to cry but just when the memory stopped playing in my mind, I heard him talking once again:
"I'll kill the guy! So tell me who he is!" He said, with a demanding voice.
My eyes were staring so wide, that it hurt me, at him with confusion and shock.
I continued to stare at him and he continued to stare at me, right in my eyes, exploring.
And even if it hurt, I smiled.
"Why the fuck are you smiling? Are you a masochist or what?" He said and I continued to smile, I almost begun laughing, he also smiled back and just then after so many years, I smiled for real and laughed for real.
It didn't hurt.
To be continued…
AN2: You arrived at AN2 and as I said in AN1, there is some sad news. Things happen very fast for me lately, and there is a lot of things going on and my head is all occupied with all the things I need to learn…so, I don't think there will be a new chapter on Sunday. Sorry though. It's kinda almost done but my beta has to be sure it's readable, so, see you next week. Hope this doesn't disappoint any of you, I might not even be home Sunday so yeah…I'm really sorry but I'll make up.
Oh, and Yasuhiro means: 1) calm and leisurely; 2) most calm; 3) most respectful and 4) abundant tranquility. Just so you won't have to search for it because it's annoying to find, I wanted to name him like truth but I thought that he is very calm and all that, anyway, you will know more.
I know it's a bother for both you and me for another 2 or 3 chapters with part 1 and part 2, etc but I just can't do it differently.
See ya next time, thank you for reading.