Escape
Disclaimer
If this were original, it wouldn't be fanfiction, would it? ^o^
Author's Note
I haven't entirely figured out the system here yet. so if you think there's something wrong with my fic, please point it out, and how to correct it. Thank you!
Chapter 1
Closing the door softly behind him, he entered the small house, surveying the space inside. As usual, the place was a mess, the filth and stench of it unbearable. Likening the place to a pigsty would have been an insult to pigs. Filthy as it was, though, he was used to it, because for him, this was the place he called home.
And then he noticed the man standing in one corner of the room, looking at him through bloodshot eyes, which were very nearly hidden by his tangled and matted mass of dark hair. The old man had been waiting for him, he realized.
Pretending that he hadn't seen him, he tried to walk away, but the other man crossed the room quickly and grabbed him.
"'They' called again," he hissed, his face just inches away from Rukawa.
A look of disgust crossing his face, Rukawa pulled away. The old man had been drinking again.
"I've already told them 'no'."
"Why?"
Glaring at him, Rukawa spat out, "Why? Why should I do it in the first place? So that you can spend it all on alcohol?"
The other man grunted.
"I'm not going to do it anymore," Rukawa repeated.
"You have to. I already told them you would."
"Screw them and screw you."
The drunken man swung his fist at him, but the boy was faster and he stepped back, causing the old man to stumble. "You don't talk to me like that, I'm your father!" he shouted.
"You stopped being my father a long time ago," Rukawa said in a monotone.
Stepping past the man, he went into his room and slammed the door behind him.
Moments later the door rattled in its frame. Sighing softly as he leaned against the door of his room, he ignored his father's pounding fists against the hardwood.
He gazed fondly around his room. his refuge, his sanctuary. The only room in the entire house that was clean ad neat. Lying down on his bed he continued to let his gaze rest on the things he prized most. The NBA poster on his wall, the closed closet door which hid his brand-name sportswear, his Spalding basketball.
All of it bought with the money he had obtained from 'working' for Shiromi & Co. International. He was tired of his 'job', but he knew he couldn't escape it. As long as they had his father's permission, they could do as they liked with him. And his father was willing to do whatever they asked, as long as he had cash to blow on alcohol. And as long as he lived here, they knew where to find him.
Sitting bolt upright, he glanced at the clock on the wall directly facing him.
He wouldn't wait until tomorrow. He knew what he had to do, and he would do it without hesitation.
This was something he should have done a long time ago.
For The Reviewers:
What? Nobody reviewed? Wh-Why?? Is my ficcie that bad? T_T
Disclaimer
If this were original, it wouldn't be fanfiction, would it? ^o^
Author's Note
I haven't entirely figured out the system here yet. so if you think there's something wrong with my fic, please point it out, and how to correct it. Thank you!
Chapter 1
Closing the door softly behind him, he entered the small house, surveying the space inside. As usual, the place was a mess, the filth and stench of it unbearable. Likening the place to a pigsty would have been an insult to pigs. Filthy as it was, though, he was used to it, because for him, this was the place he called home.
And then he noticed the man standing in one corner of the room, looking at him through bloodshot eyes, which were very nearly hidden by his tangled and matted mass of dark hair. The old man had been waiting for him, he realized.
Pretending that he hadn't seen him, he tried to walk away, but the other man crossed the room quickly and grabbed him.
"'They' called again," he hissed, his face just inches away from Rukawa.
A look of disgust crossing his face, Rukawa pulled away. The old man had been drinking again.
"I've already told them 'no'."
"Why?"
Glaring at him, Rukawa spat out, "Why? Why should I do it in the first place? So that you can spend it all on alcohol?"
The other man grunted.
"I'm not going to do it anymore," Rukawa repeated.
"You have to. I already told them you would."
"Screw them and screw you."
The drunken man swung his fist at him, but the boy was faster and he stepped back, causing the old man to stumble. "You don't talk to me like that, I'm your father!" he shouted.
"You stopped being my father a long time ago," Rukawa said in a monotone.
Stepping past the man, he went into his room and slammed the door behind him.
Moments later the door rattled in its frame. Sighing softly as he leaned against the door of his room, he ignored his father's pounding fists against the hardwood.
He gazed fondly around his room. his refuge, his sanctuary. The only room in the entire house that was clean ad neat. Lying down on his bed he continued to let his gaze rest on the things he prized most. The NBA poster on his wall, the closed closet door which hid his brand-name sportswear, his Spalding basketball.
All of it bought with the money he had obtained from 'working' for Shiromi & Co. International. He was tired of his 'job', but he knew he couldn't escape it. As long as they had his father's permission, they could do as they liked with him. And his father was willing to do whatever they asked, as long as he had cash to blow on alcohol. And as long as he lived here, they knew where to find him.
Sitting bolt upright, he glanced at the clock on the wall directly facing him.
He wouldn't wait until tomorrow. He knew what he had to do, and he would do it without hesitation.
This was something he should have done a long time ago.
For The Reviewers:
What? Nobody reviewed? Wh-Why?? Is my ficcie that bad? T_T