A/N: Ever heard the song 'God Hurts Those He Loves'? It's a Weiss Kreuz song…
Angel's Pain
Written by Sakki-san
Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me. Like the window.
Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. Like Ken. (No! Down, Zelly! He's not yours, either!)
We get back to the flower shop around ten. I stalk into my room and fling my goggles onto a nearby chair. They land with perfect precision on the edge of the chair, swirl, and sit still, hanging from the corner. Thank you, thank you. I know I'm good.
My claws end up on the seat of the chair, and I chuck the rest of my clothes onto the floor. I pull my nightclothes on and flump onto the bed. 'Flump' shouldn't be a noun, but it is in this case. It means I fall backwards onto my bed and lie there, staring at the ceiling.
I recover the moments of the day when Farfarello was fighting me, when he was whispering into my ear. I don't remember what he was whispering, mostly because I wasn't listening. I look at my right wrist. It's a little bruised. Was he holding on that tight? He really didn't want me to get away.
It's getting warm in here, and it's getting late; I get up, walk over to my window, and open it. Curtains pulled to the sides, inner window up. A cool breeze passes over my face. There's no screen; I took it out a week ago because all the bugs were starting to die and I could leave it open without worry.
A few more steps and I'm back to my bed. I curl up under one sheet and drift into a state of half sleep, half awake.
I'm like that for about an hour when I hear a scratching near my window. I shake it off as a bug or a mouse or something small and outside and enjoying the heat coming from my room. Another ten minutes, and I'm blasted into consciousness by a shuffling in the corner of my room. A loud shuffling. My head shoots up, my elbows holding me up.
"Is somebody there?" Yeah, like that's going to do anything. Of course they're not going to answer if there is someone there. I look around for a few more seconds, then hear another shuffling this one near my door. My gaze moves over there, but I can't see anybody. It's dark in my room.
Slowly, I stand up, and walk over to my window. I look around outside for a minute, then shut my window. Another shuffling, closer to my door again. I glare at the door. Now I walk over to it and open it, look around in the hall. Anybody there? Nope. I shut it and turn around.
Before I can start walking back to my bed, an arm slides around my waist and locks both my arms to my sides. A second hand clamps firmly over my mouth, and I'm pressed back against someone who's standing behind me. I fight out of shock. There is someone in my room!
I freeze when I recognize the soft chuckling behind me, too close to my ear for comfort. My eyes are wide, focused on the air in front of me.
"What's the kitten doing up so late?" Farfarello murmurs into my ear. I can hardly breathe. Why is Farfarello in my room?! How did he know it was my room? Why did he follow us back?
And why did the rest of Schwartz let him do it?
I can't respond because of the hand over my mouth. Usually, I'd bite his hand, but he can't feel pain, so what's the use? I try to reach up to pull him off my mouth, but his other arm is keeping my arms locked to my sides. I didn't know he was this strong.
I try to pull away from him with my entire body. He pulls back, and there's a searing pain in my stomach. I grimace and stop fighting.
"I asked you before…have you ever thought of it…the feeling of a knife…?" His left hand moves, I look over, and see that there's a knife in his hand. Where it came from, I don't know. He lines the blade up with my side, the flat edge against my arm, the sharp edge resting on my shirt. I freeze. I don't to be cut.
The knife doesn't move. I don't move. He doesn't move. That doesn't last long. He pulls his hand from my mouth. How does he know I'm not going to yell? Because he can slit my throat in an instant, that's why. He pulls another knife out and places it on the back of my neck again. My breath comes out in hisses and gasps.
The knife moves down the back of my neck. I wince, because it's cutting into my skin. My shirt is cut open, down to my waist. The shirt itself goes down to my knees. Freezing air rushes onto my skin.
I'm not ready for the sudden pain in my back. I gasp and almost cry out, but the arm that was keeping my body still has moved and that hand is now clamped over my mouth. I reach up to try and pull the hand away, but it's in vain. He's unnaturally strong. The knife touches the base of my neck, and digs in. A whimper slides from my throat. My back is cut open, from my neck down to my waist.
I loose my strong grip on his hand, but manage to keep holding on. He laughs again, and pushes me to the floor. I collapse on my side. My back hurts, I'm freezing. Farfarello stands over me, smirking.
"It hurts God to carve a cross in the back of someone who kills his children."
Only then do I realize that the two sharp, searing pains in my back form a cross. One from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, the other from neck to waist. I don't look up at him, but I hear him open and climb out the window.
I manage to stagger to my bed a few minutes after he leaves, and I lay there silently, trying to ignore the pain racing through my back.
~~~
When I wake up the next morning, my first thought is: Farfarello. My second is my back. I pull myself off the bed and gasp painfully. My back was literally ripped off the bed because it was melded there by the blood, which hardened overnight.
I look at my sheets. They're stained red. Damn. I wonder how I'll get those changed. Without another thought I go into the bathroom and pull a tall mirror out of the closet. Resting that mirror against the back wall, I pull off my shirt and stand in front of one mirror and look at myself in the other.
The cross is vivid on my back. Blood is everywhere on my back. I'll need to take a shower. Do I have time? I check the clock. Yes, I do. I pull my sheets off the bed and throw away my shirt. It was cut open; it's useless now.
Into the bathroom I go. I wash off my back, ignore the stinging pain coming from my wounds, and eventually bandage myself. I pull on my usual outfit and head out into the kitchen.
Omi's there, and surprisingly, Yohji, too. They both greet me as I come in. I reach for the box of mini-waffles, like the ones we ate yesterday, and find it empty. There's another box in the freezer; I eat those. Three in the toaster. I'm not that hungry. Farfarello's still hanging on the back of my mind.
I finish quickly and go to open the shop. Aya's already out there, and everything's set up. I blink.
"Oh…thanks, Aya." He nods, I grab a watering can, and start watering flowers. When the first customers start on their way in, I try to forget about most of last night. But I can't forget it because of the feeling that scar on my back makes every time I move my body.