A/N First off, I would like to recognize NekoRyuuKo for their wonderfully detailed and kind review of this story and the Guest who requested the last chapter (a Norway one). Seriously guys, reviews are one of the things that keeps me motivated the most. I really am here for you guys, so if there's ever anything (critiques, requests, whatever) that you want to say, I'm all for criticism and listening to you guys. Alright, so, sappiness aside, I decided to challenge myself with this chapter, so pardon if it isn't all that good, but Wy doesn't get enough love.
Her brush dipped into the splatter of purple paint on the stained palette, the bristles transferring the color to her canvas. Alone in her room sat a young girl of the age twelve, the youngest of a large family born to not-so-wealthy Australian parents. Wendy pulled the down the end of her khaki shorts, which were riding up while she was sitting on the paint tainted stool placed in the corner of her small room, shared with two of her sisters, near her art supplies. It was one of the few times she was happy, when she was creating.
She was in control when she drew or painted, and could create anything she wanted. A world where she was noticed and known. Fantasy, reality. The girl smiled, balancing the paintbrush on the edge of the easel and admiring her work. It wasn't the best painting in the world, she knew, but she was quite excellent when compared to her peers, especially for her young age. Maybe not a prodigy, but above the rest was fine with her.
The front door opened and the middle-school aged girl sighed, setting her paintbrush down and hiding the art she had created in her little chest that only she knew how to open properly, besides, of course, her mother who had gifted her with the only means of keeping her items unharmed. It was only moments later that the girl's peacefulness was interrupted by two older girls barging into the room, followed by a boy only a couple years her senior. The boy's resemblance to her was striking, and the two children were often mistaken for twins due to his short stature and her unwavering maturity. She sat on the decorative chest protectively, her nimble fingers absent-mindedly tracing the swirls and curves of the leaves, tree, and comforting words. It was the one thing that the girls who shared her room would never dare vandalize, as it was technically their mother's.
Noah, her older brother, approached her, while his fellow high schoolers hung back, Sidney texting something on her mobile and Olivia pulling out her homework to begin working on the problems she would no doubt ultimately force Wendy to complete.
"Hey dork," Noah grinned, wrestling her into a chokehold and rubbing her scalp painfully with his knuckle.
She whined and thrashed about, but knew she could not overpower the high school Freshman, so opted for going limp until he ceased his grip on her and she dropped to the ground. Wendy stayed silent.
"You're boring," Noah complained, kicking at her stomach and rolling his eyes.
"Wendy, come help me," Olivia demanded, glaring at her homework as if it were sentient.
"I don't want to," Wendy growled, picking herself off of the floor and running to the door to hopefully avoid the repercussions of her words.
But the room was set up against her. Olivia's bed was right near the only door and Sidney had been leaning against the wall next to it anyway. Both girls grabbed her arms and forced her back, the eldest kicking the door shut and grinning maliciously at the younger girl. Wendy knew the types of things that would happen. She had been through this basically as long as she could remember, always written off as "kids being kids" and that they would "outgrow it", but that never happened. Wendy closed her eyes and bit down on her lip, praying for her mother to be home with Connor soon.
/
She was alone. Wendy was always alone. A house full of four siblings and two parents, but she was alone. The youngest child, the baby of the family, was not supposed to be treated this way. Wasn't she supposed to get all the attention? Weren't her older brothers and sisters supposed to take care of her, and protect her, and love her? Wasn't she supposed to get away with everything and be adored? She had never known such a feeling.
One of the few places she had learned to hide out while her parents were busy was under the counter in the living room with the curtains concealing her. It separated the family room from the dining room turned brothers' room on one side, but the entrance to Connor and Noah's room was through the kitchen. If there's one thing she learned from living in a house full of bullies, it was survival skills. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her chin resting upon them with her arms wrapped around her legs as she tried to cry as quietly as possible, aching all over and wishing she could just leave.
Her father, Jack, would be home soon, and Ava, her mother, would begin supper and she would be required to come out and hope that her siblings didn't see where she had crawled out of. No one seemed to realize that the shelving unit was still big enough for her to stay in if she ducked her head. Currently, Noah was watching television in the living room. She would need to wait for him to leave, praying that nobody else came in, before she left. Footsteps. Dang it. Wendy opened a small slit in the royal blue curtains to see her other brother, a fellow middle schooler, walking into view with a sour expression upon his face.
"Have you seen Wendy?" he muttered bitterly to Noah, "Little brat freaking killed my phone."
Noah looked from his younger brother to the water damaged phone and bit back an amused smirk, but shook his head, "No, haven't seen her since I got home."
Connor sighed and walked passed the curtain, looking out the window to see if their father was home yet, but the driveway was empty of his car. Wendy tensed as she saw the shadow of her brother go passed her again, holding her breath, though the tears still leaked from her eyes. Frustrated, the boy kicked his soccer ball in her general direction, unknowingly, and little Wendy got a face full of the ball. She let out a soft yelp and Connor perked up with a sly grin on his face as he approached and drew the curtains back, revealing his very terrified little sister.
Wendy glanced to the side where she saw Noah standing. Even though she knew it was a lost cause, she scrambled to her knees and tried to dash off, but Connor grabbed her by the hood of her oversized pink jacket. He yanked her to her feet and laughed in her face, spitting words at her while she focused on trying to pull away.
"Hey girls," Noah called, also getting a good grip on the youngest, "We found little Wendy here hiding!"
The twelve year old wriggled in the grips of her brothers, turning a pleading glance to the girls who only greeted her with a smile and short laugh.
"Hold her for me," Connor requested.
Normally, the boy wouldn't have been so bold to order his elder brother around, but his mind was more concerned with vengeance, and he was beginning to get used to being on a similar level as his older siblings. Besides, he was quite positive that Noah would have no issue restraining the littlest member of the female.
Wendy struggled and whimpered slightly, kicking her feet backward to hopefully get at the shin of her brother, but all it did was piss Noah off and he twisted her arm painfully behind her back until she cried out. Sidney laughed again and came to flick the little girl in the head, saying something that Wendy wasn't paying attention to. Her eyes, once closed, widened in painful shock as Connor kicked her in the stomach, shouting at her. He then threw his now useless phone at her head, hitting her in the forehead, leaving an angry red mark on her fair skin. The screen shattered and bits of glass sprinkled down her shirt.
Sidney, noticing this, began to pull up her shirt with the claimed intentions of getting the glass out, but Wendy knew it was to humiliate her. She managed to pull one of her arms free from the grasp of her brother and covered herself, face flushing, but her free hand was soon grabbed by Olivia, who stood faithfully next to her older sister. Noah pushed her forward so her face was on the ground and rested one of his feet on her back, adding more and more weight until she was sure her back would break. The others were laughing above her, making fun of her, and Wendy buried her face into the carpet, sobbing quietly.
"Aw, don't be like that," Noah mocked her, grabbing her by the back of her hair and pulling her into a sitting position. Her white belly-shirt floated down to its normal position, "We're just having fun."
"Yeah," Connor agreed, "A little family-bonding time."
Wendy really wished her mother had taken her to the store with her, and hoped desperately that her father would be home soon, but she had a feeling she would be waiting for a while. The personality inside of her, the one that had been buried deep into her subconscious and suppressed with all the abuse and bullying she suffered, told her not to go down, instructed her to fight, but she wasn't sure she was able. She knew she couldn't win, but she didn't need to sit here and take it. With an infuriated shout, she lashed out, punching and thrashing and screeching at the older children, tears streaming down her reddened face.
"What a brat," the eighteen year old said, "She's throwing a temper tantrum."
Olivia, at sixteen, smirked at the oldest child. Connor kicked his foot up again, nailing Wendy under the chin and the smaller middle schooler was sure her head would pop off. She threw her fist out and caught the boy in the ankle. He cried out in pain and hopped up and down a few times.
Noah glared at his younger sister and brought his fist down on the top of her head. "Little bitch!" he snarled.
The eldest boy released Wendy and the others soon became bored and left, leaving the girl there on the floor to sob. She turned bitterly to their direction and shouted, "I hate you! I hope you die!"
Thankfully, it did not spur a repeat session of what she had just endured, but only induced laughter from her siblings. Wendy stayed there, staring numbly at the ground, until she heard the click of the front door opening and furiously wiped any leftover moisture from her eyes and forced a smile onto her lips. Her father was home.
/
The front door opened, but her back was to it, and she did not plan on turning away, no matter who stood there.
"What…are you doing?"
Connor. She spun around and glared hatefully at her brother.
"I'm leaving! I am tired of everything here. I will sell my paintings for a living and get through high school on my own so tell Mum and Dad when they wake up but you aren't stopping me," she spat and turned back toward the gravelly driveway, slipping her feet into her sandals and running down the slope to the where the road stood. Wendy did not hear what Connor had said, but she never heard footsteps running after her, nor did she hear the door shut again.
She had emptied her backpack while her sisters were sleeping and packed her canvases, paints, and brushes along with clothes and some food and bottled water. Mentally, the girl cursed herself for forgetting some of her favorite paintings, but they would be no use to her now and she needed to conserve space, so it didn't matter much, now did it?
Wendy kept her head down, thinking about the logic of this plan. She had always been a very down to Earth child, if not a bit strong-willed and maybe slightly impulsive, but she was beginning to doubt herself at this moment. It was a matter of enduring the abuse at home, or facing whatever lay ahead, bring that way what may.
"Hey brat!" a familiar voice rang out.
She growled and dashed forward, more sure than ever that she was making the right choice, until she heard the screech of her eldest sister.
"WENDY!"
She had failed to notice the car driving down the road she had decided to run out into, away from her home, from her parents and siblings, until she was laying in the same street with a pool of blood surrounding her. The sound of an opening door and frantic shouting of her sister and a confused, distressed man.
/
"Well, if that's the case, then I'll just become my own nation," Wy stated stubbornly.
Australia sighed, staring at his "little sister" in slight frustration until she dropped her gaze and walked out. The young girl, despite the odds, made good on her threat, and found herself in the bizarre situation with a boy her physical age, Sealand, and an older boy who called himself Seborga. Wy sighed to herself while the boys were…um…she didn't quite know what was happening anymore.
"I wonder," she muttered to herself, "Will people start lumping me with these knuckle-heads just because I'm new?"
A/N Because Wy is a micronation that separated from Australia, I thought I would play with the idea of her running away (hence, separating from her family) and because "land transport accidents" are one of the leading causes of death for ages 1-14 in Australia, I thought I would play with that instead of having her get eaten by something. And the house she lives in is entirely based on my grandmother's old trailer for no reason in particular. I also wanted her personality to be almost opposite of what it is in the anime, but sort of like this is what her personality is, but it has been suppressed because of the bullying and depression, so that's why she's super timid and just takes it until the very end where her true personality comes out more. Side note, this one did make me cry a little. The bullying part struck a little too close to home, in the fact that it was heavily based on things that happened to me when she's being beaten up by all the others.