Ronentorseia Kortuneio
(Unshed Tears)
Prologue:
Authors Warning: Yuri, lemon, Angst
It's one of those days when you happen to be lagging behind everyone else. Your name is called... and for some reason you don't hear it. I'd been through days like this far too often. I'm sure if my mother were here she'd hold me and soothe my demons away. Somehow I know it won't happen.
Kamui's fixing supper, the smell is intoxicating... yet I barely notice. He looks up at me and smiles. "How you doing?" he asks simply.
I shrug, not really caring to even think on it. Everything is the same lately. After awhile I get up and leave. Kamui doesn't bother to follow. He's said before I need my space and privacy. At first that struck me as odd. I was supposed to be his pick-me-up thrill for the night... or how ever long he had paid for me.
My body aches, pain surging through the most sensitive of areas. Kamui said the first time injured my body. That it only requires time to heal. I know he wants me out. Yet, I'm not really sure I want that. I'm scared. I assume he might know that already. He's kinda like my big brother. Still fear is one thing I've had to learn to live with. It's never about dealing with it... for me I take it one night at a time. Even a customer at a time. Or I did.
Making my way through the long stone halls searching for my bedroom, I allow a whimper to escape past my lips. I hurt more then I ever thought possible. Emotionally more then anything else. When people do that, turn a child into a mere toy for sexual pleasure it destroys them. After a week or so of regular use... a child will believe it's there only purpose. I know this because I think that a lot. I know the moves to make any men hungry with lustful visuals.
My mind registers a blank for the millionth time today. I locate my room and slip in hoping no one else sees. One minute then another passes with no indication of my being noticed. Looking towards the satin comforter on my bed, I slip my hands beneath my shirt and pull it off. Then, while holding in the urge to scream, I unlace the waistband of my skirt.
I stare down at the bruises and red welts. Maybe I should be crying. I can't, I haven't been able to allow tears to form for nearly two months now. Everyone says that it's important I allow myself to grieve. Grieve for what exactly I wonder. Certainly tears won't change anything... nor will they end this living nightmare. Bringing my hand to one of the darkest bruises, I hold back a scream as my fingers brush across the broken flesh.
'I hate her,' I think as I caress each welt I was given. "I hate her..." I whisper as I remember each and every welt I was given for not doing my job right... for being shy... for crying. "I hate her..." I'm glance down at my naked form and my eyes glaze over. I wish I could hurt her.... like she's hurt me, that I could make her feel as empty.
The sight of my body sickens me. 'How can I be loved by anyone?' I think as I glance at my reflection. My midnight orbs stare back at me... my reminder that she couldn't keep my thoughts from my mother. The only thing I have that hasn't been taken from me.
(Unshed Tears)
Prologue:
Authors Warning: Yuri, lemon, Angst
It's one of those days when you happen to be lagging behind everyone else. Your name is called... and for some reason you don't hear it. I'd been through days like this far too often. I'm sure if my mother were here she'd hold me and soothe my demons away. Somehow I know it won't happen.
Kamui's fixing supper, the smell is intoxicating... yet I barely notice. He looks up at me and smiles. "How you doing?" he asks simply.
I shrug, not really caring to even think on it. Everything is the same lately. After awhile I get up and leave. Kamui doesn't bother to follow. He's said before I need my space and privacy. At first that struck me as odd. I was supposed to be his pick-me-up thrill for the night... or how ever long he had paid for me.
My body aches, pain surging through the most sensitive of areas. Kamui said the first time injured my body. That it only requires time to heal. I know he wants me out. Yet, I'm not really sure I want that. I'm scared. I assume he might know that already. He's kinda like my big brother. Still fear is one thing I've had to learn to live with. It's never about dealing with it... for me I take it one night at a time. Even a customer at a time. Or I did.
Making my way through the long stone halls searching for my bedroom, I allow a whimper to escape past my lips. I hurt more then I ever thought possible. Emotionally more then anything else. When people do that, turn a child into a mere toy for sexual pleasure it destroys them. After a week or so of regular use... a child will believe it's there only purpose. I know this because I think that a lot. I know the moves to make any men hungry with lustful visuals.
My mind registers a blank for the millionth time today. I locate my room and slip in hoping no one else sees. One minute then another passes with no indication of my being noticed. Looking towards the satin comforter on my bed, I slip my hands beneath my shirt and pull it off. Then, while holding in the urge to scream, I unlace the waistband of my skirt.
I stare down at the bruises and red welts. Maybe I should be crying. I can't, I haven't been able to allow tears to form for nearly two months now. Everyone says that it's important I allow myself to grieve. Grieve for what exactly I wonder. Certainly tears won't change anything... nor will they end this living nightmare. Bringing my hand to one of the darkest bruises, I hold back a scream as my fingers brush across the broken flesh.
'I hate her,' I think as I caress each welt I was given. "I hate her..." I whisper as I remember each and every welt I was given for not doing my job right... for being shy... for crying. "I hate her..." I'm glance down at my naked form and my eyes glaze over. I wish I could hurt her.... like she's hurt me, that I could make her feel as empty.
The sight of my body sickens me. 'How can I be loved by anyone?' I think as I glance at my reflection. My midnight orbs stare back at me... my reminder that she couldn't keep my thoughts from my mother. The only thing I have that hasn't been taken from me.