Scars
Chapter Three: I Know Your Secret
Okay, this is the next chapter. Sorry it's taken so long, but I was suffering from immense writer's block and couldn't think of how to write this. The lyrics to 'Never Again' belong to Nickelback and whatever record company owns them, NOT me.
Still don't own this.
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Sakura pounded up the stairs in the empty house, then shut herself into her room and locked the door.
This can't be happening. This absolutely can not be happening.
But it was.
Syaoran knew somehow that Ueno was beating her. He knew. He knew.
I don't know what to do! What—what do I—I don't know!
It was inevitable. The Erase wouldn't take the memories of people with magic; he had told her that long ago. So he'd confront Ueno.
Oh my god, I don't want Syaoran hurt—
But he would confront Ueno. After seven years of knowing him, she expected no less.
And someone would get hurt. Ueno was unpredictable; he could even—
Even try to kill Syaoran.
That can't happen!
I have a week and a half to solve this, she thought hurriedly. There's gotta be some way to keep anything from happening.
But what if there wasn't?
There has to be a way.
Holding back tears, she leaned against the door and slid down to the carpet, burying her face in her hands.
He tried to look for her. Five times, the doorbell rang. Five times, she waited, hidden in her room and hardly daring to breathe, until the ringing stopped. There was no way she could face Syaoran right now; he'd want to know why she hadn't talked to him, why she hadn't broken up with Ueno, how long it had been going on.
But she wasn't ready to talk about it. After twelve months—three hundred and sixty-five days—of silence, she wasn't ready.
So instead, she hid.
The phone rang. She ignored it. It rang again, then again and again. Each time the caller hung up when the answering machine came on. Then, while she was listening idly and wondering how many times he'd try to call her, the answering machine came on and he didn't hang up.
"Hello, you've reached the Kinomoto residence. We aren't here right now, but you can leave a message after the beep."
Beep.
He isn't hanging up yet?
"Sakura, I know you're hearing this, because you're in your house right now."
She blinked and straightened.
"Please, Sakura," Tomoyo asked. "We want to talk to you."
For more than a minute, she was tempted to pick up the phone.
"We can help you, Sakura! What Ueno's doing to you is wrong and needs to stop!"
There was silence as her hand moved toward the receiver. A few inches away from it, it halted, then fell limply back to the couch where Sakura was curled up. I won't drag them in. This is my problem.
She sighed. "Sakura, talk to me!" When no response came, there was a click, and quiet.
Sakura erased the message and went back to her room.
Wham!
Syaoran pounded the punching bag, trying to work out some of his anger.
The problem was, he was getting angrier by the minute.
The more he thought about it, the more infuriated he got. And the more sense it made.
Sakura's been stressed and scared lately because of that—that—
He couldn't think of a name dirty enough to refer to Ueno.
And she wasn't talking to me or any of the other guys because Ueno would say she was flirting—
Wham!
And she couldn't be with her friends because he'd say she was avoiding him—
Wham!
And he—he's hurt her like I saw—
WHAM!
At that thought, the punching bag flew off its line and into a wall. The very notion of that son of a bitch hitting Sakura made him angrier than anything. The fact that Ueno had actually done it didn't help his temper either.
Why won't she talk to us?
She's been hiding this for god-knows-how-long, the rational part of his mind said. If I were her, I'd be scared.
But still
This can't keep going on.
If Ueno gets within fifty feet of her I swear I'll kill him.
His fist tightened as he stared out the window grimly, eyes narrowed.
Sakura waited nervously for the bus heading to the library. Even if her secret was out, she still had assignments to take care of over winter break. I need to write that Chemistry paper on Carbon bonding, and then in History there's the essay on Charlemagne
The bus pulled up and she got on, sitting in an empty sit and staring blankly out the window.
Music was coming from someone's headphones, turned up too loud.
He's drunk again, it's time to fight
She must have done something wrong tonight
The living room becomes a boxing ring
It's time to run when you see him
Clenching his hands
She's just a woman
Never Again
Sakura took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to ignore it.
I hear her scream, from down the hall
Amazing she can even talk at all
She cries to me
Go back to bed
I'm terrified that she'll wind up
Dead in his hands, She's just a woman
Never Again
Been there before, but not like this
Seen it before, but not like this
Never before have I ever
Seen it this bad
She's just a woman
Never Again
The song was so—so—
So real.
It was happening to her.
Just tell the nurse, you slipped and fell
It starts to sting as it starts to swell
She looks at you, she wants the truth
It's right out there in the waiting room
With those hands
Lookin just as sweet as he can
Never Again
Her eyes widened—how could it be happening? How could a song know everything like this? How could it know that she lied, all those times, and Ueno, looking so innocent and yet so not—
The bus came to a halt and she stumbled off, unable to take another minute. The music was too much.
It all was too much, too fast.
Blindly, she made her way down the sidewalk, desperately trying to hold on to the one last thing in her life that remained the same. She would have school at the end of Winter break, and her homework needed to be done.
The library. I need to get to the library
Red brick loomed into view, and she pushed a door open, slipping inside like a shadow—a shadow of what she had once been.
Soon, she was seated by a window, trying to think about the way Carbon bonds formed and failing. The world seemed to be spinning wildly out of control, and the homework was her only anchor—the only thing that never changed. But today, and for a long time, she could not concentrate on it.
The page blurred and wavered in her vision, her weak grasp on reality slipping. Life, deathwere they just the same thing? There seemed to be no difference for her.
"Hey."
The single word shattered the walls of illusion around her, and she snapped to attention. Looking up, she saw the one thing she least wanted to see then.
"U-Ueno!"
His eyes glinted coldly, as hard and frigid as ice. "Came back early. Heard you missed me."
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
"Come on." He grabbed her roughly by the elbow and hauled her to her feet. "Let's talk outside."
She numbly went along, making her feet move somehow. The walls of books disappeared, replaced by the dank, cold walls of the back of the library. Her breath steamed in the icy air, as did his, and his fingernails dug into her arm. No one could see them here.
"So," he hissed, "the minute I leave, you're off, flirting with every other person possible."
"What?!" she gasped, knowing what was coming. She tried to break free, but his iron hold tightened.
"You whore," he accused. "You're just a slut, going after anyone."
"No—"
"Don't you dare lie to me!" he screamed. "I've seen the way you look at Li! I turn my back for three days and you're practically screwing the son of a bitch!"
"No!" she insisted, terrified.
"Play time's over, bitch." He struck her across the face—then grabbed her shirt. "You're mine."
His—oh my god, he can't mean—
"Don't—Ueno, please—"
Tears rolled down her face as she thrashed, unable to get free.
"Please—no—"
He's going to rape me—oh my god—
"Stop moving!" he yelled, his eyes crazy. There was a click, and a metallic glint, and then something was set against her temple.
It was a gun.
"Don't you move," he said, his voice harsh. "Don't you say a word."
A salty drop fell and froze onto the sidewalk.
Anger started to build in her. This was not the way she was going to die. If he was going to kill her, it was not going to be this way.
She spit in his face.
He struck her across the face again, and this time, she fell back, rolling over on the cold pavement and hitting a wall. She closed her eyes, listening to the wet thwap of his soles hitting the slush-covered pavement. A hand seized her wrist and dragged her to her feet again, and the barrel of the gun was set by her eye once more.
There was a rush and something tackled Ueno. A clatter marked the fall of the gun; it spun into the wall and stopped moving, lying a few feet from where Sakura had collapsed.
"Didn't someone ever tell you it's wrong to hit a lady?" Syaoran growled, jamming Ueno's face into the wall.
Father's a name you haven't earned yet
You're just a child with a temper
Haven't you heard "Don't hit a lady"?
Kickin' your ass would be a pleasure
[AN: Don't kill me, I suck at fight scenes]
Ueno threw his head back and there was a crack. Startled, Syaoran let go, but then he shoved Ueno into a pile of trash and there was a rattle as the lid fell of a can.
Syaoran's eyes traveled to where Sakura was watching, white-faced. A bruise was already starting to spread across her face, and she was speechless, unable to say a single word.
There was a sickening crash as Ueno hit Syaoran in the back with a trash can, his eyes crazy. Syaoran staggered back. Picking up a bottle, Ueno hurled it at him, but it missed. Shards rained down from where it had struck the wall; the minute Syaoran straightened, Ueno flung dirty snow into his eyes.
Sakura watched, horrified and completely motionless.
The object Ueno pulled from his pocket was about six inches long and black. With a flick of his thumb, the blade flashed out, dim light glancing off the steel.
Still blinded, Syaoran took a step back, unsure of what was happening.
Ueno drew nearer, advancing towards him, the insane grin of a murderer on his face.
Crack!
The gunshot echoed down the alley, through the streets, reverberating in every fiber of Sakura's body. Her tormentor fell, motionless, onto the street; her shadow fell across him.
He's drunk again, it's time to fight
Same old shit, just on a different night
She grabs the gun, she's had enough
Tonight she'll find out how f-------
Tough is this man
Pulls the trigger just as fast as she can
Never Again
She was unable to move, still holding the gun up, her arms and hands shaking violently. Her breath steamed; her eyes were blank. The stance she held was the only key to what had been going through her head—her feet were part, her shoulders back, her grip firm.
Ueno had destroyed her life long enough. He had ripped apart her innocence; he had taken her strength and pride; he had tormented and held her down long enough. She had taken it as long as she could. It was partially her fault.
But there was no way in hell he was going to hurt someone else.
The gun fell to the ground as Syaoran took in the scene. Sakura, standing weakly, her arms falling limply to her sides and her knees collapsing. Ueno, lying on the pavement, bleeding. Trash scattered all around the alley.
I shot someone, I shot someone. Sakura covered her face with her hands, the words screaming in her mind as she rocked back and forth in the cold alleyway. Her tears had never stopped—not once. She was crying for her lost innocence; for the time she'd lost in her life, too scared to do anything; for coming so close to losing Syaoran; for those things and more.
Syaoran knelt in front of her, holding her close and letting her cry on his shoulder. "It's over," he murmured. "It's all over."
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Ueno didn't die. He survived, was tried and found guilty of Assault, Attempted Rape, and Attempted Murder, and sentenced to thirty years in prison. It wasn't long enough for either Sakura or Syaoran, but the important thing was that he was in prison, where he couldn't hurt anyone.
Three years later, Syaoran proposed to Sakura. They were married six months later (Tomoyo designed everything).
Four years after getting married, Sakura had a daughter. They named her Nadeshiko.
Twelve years passed in happiness since Ueno had vanished. Nadeshiko was six when things changed.
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"Ueno Tsuruyama, the man found guilty of assault, attempted murder, and attempted rape, escaped from a prison. Citizens are warned to be on high alert and to report anyone who appears suspicious. He is 6'1", black-haired, blue-eyed, and considered extremely dangerous. He was last seen two days ago."
The bags of groceries fell from my arms, but I didn't even care.
Syaoran walked in behind me. His eyes widened, and I could see the words coming from the television registering. He didn't say anything, staring only at the screen.
"Mommy?"
Shiko tugged at my shirt, her brown eyes wide. "Not now, honey," I said distractedly.
"But Mommy—"
"Not now."
"But there's writing on the mirror, and it's all red!"
I whirled around and dashed down the hall, hearing Syaoran's footsteps behind me. The lights were on in the bathroom; I stared, horrified, at the letters on the mirror.
This isn't over.
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