Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, or locations in this story, nor
od I own the song "And One" by Linkin Park (in the days before they were
Linkin Park) off the rare Hybrid Theory EP.
A/N: Well, I loved this song when I first heard, just a couple of weeks ago, and it seems fitting, no? In addition to the songfic, at the bottom I also included a little peice of work I did, unrelated to the story, but I thought it was pretty good, so it's there.
Where do I start
Disjointed heart
I've got no commitment
To my own flesh and blood
She stared out at the city streets, watching the people walk past, free and laughing. They each had their own destination in mind, and trudged down the road endlessly, never once glancing up at the watchful girl above.
She'd been sitting in that room for hours now, with nothing to do but watch the pedestrains. The door to her room was locked, as usual, and her windows were barred of course. Every now and then he would come to the door and ask her if she changed her mind, and each time she would ignore him, directing her gaze to the window once more.
This time, however, there was no subtle knock. Instead, he barged into the room, his wrinkled face cold and emotionless as he told her that he'd let her sit there and rot for the rest of her life if she didn't change her mind, if she didn't agree with him.
"Do you know how much you shame me?" he asked. "You're absolutely awful! It's time you stop this foolishness. You're too young to be trying to run away, as it is! How would it look to everyone for my daughter to be acting this way? Don't you care in the least about how I feel?"
The tears welled up in her eyes, an unstoppable force that could not be withheld now that the dam of her self-control had broke. But even as he continued to rant and yell, even while fresh streaks of liquid silver made their way down her twelve-year old cheeks, she continued to stare out the window, determined not to have her pride broken.
Left all alone
Far from my home
No one to hear me
To heal my ill heart, I...
Keep it locked up inside
It had been this way since her mother had died, when she was only five years old. Her father was once a loving, caring person, happy to be with is family. But he needed a scape-goat for his misery now, and she was the most convenient thing. She didn't know what it was to have a family, to have someone she could trust, or rely on. No, she had only herself, and the reflection that haunted her in the mirror.
Every morning she would awake and gaze into the reflective glass only to find her image a little more distorted than it use to be. Another peice of her soul was visibly missing, and everyone that saw her knew it, but the person that took it the worst was the one who had to face the disturbing image everyday. Everyday she would hear him yelling, and another part of her giving it's last cry before death. Everyday she would see his hellish glare drilling holes through her small form while she saw another part of that innocent look on her face fade away, and be replaced by premature age. Everyday she would feel the scorching sensation that defied both the physical and the emotional. It was on a plane somewhere between, burning her at both ends, so there was no where to run. There was no where she could run to get away from herself.
Can I express
To the point I've regressed
If anger's a gift
Then I guess I've been blessed, I...
Keep it locked up, inside
Keep my distance from you lies
White light rained down through crystal pillars, in a shower of expensive extravagence as the present military personel and their dates raised their glasses in toast to the man of the hour, none other than the man that her life tightly in his hand, refusing to let go.
They only saw what they wanted to see, a great leader, a brave general, an all around good guy. It was amazing the things that people were willing to over-look in exchange for the power that his strategic brilliance gave them. Beneath the glimmering chandeliers, the tortured soul behind the brave facade was exposed for any who chose to open their eyes and see. Her cover was blown wide-open, as she couldn't hide her eternally reddened eyes, and tear-stained cheeks from the ever watchful public eye. But their eyes were not on her, but on him instead. They cheered for him, celebrated him... and all the while, she could only sit quietly, anger bubbling underneath her calm exterior.
Her soft brown eyes, reflecting the broken person she was growing up to be, witnessed as he walked closer to her, a group of people in tow. It was time for the infamous formalities to begin, for the snide remarks to be exchanged while the rich men and women would laugh as if it were all a big joke, nothing more than a game.
This particular night, however, was different. As she noticed them coming her way, she stood from her seat and started to walk away, a feeling of rebelliousness rising within her that could not be quelled. He caught up with her, as she expected, and introduced her to his guests.
"Where were you going?" he asked her nicely. "It's not you bed time, yet."
"To my room. You must like me to stay there, since you lock me in there so often," she replied with mock-innocence.
He laughed, turning to his visitors. "She has such a sense of humor. You can see why I love having her around so much." While the others laughed he bent down close ot her. "If you ever pull something like that again, I will lock you in your room for weeks!" he hissed. Upon her cringe, he sighed. "Why do you always make me punish you like this? It hurts me more than you."
She could almost physically feel her last bit of patients snap, while she was flooded with a primal, scalding rage that she could no longer contain. "I hate you!" she yelled suddenly, giving the table a shove so hard that it tipped, and everything went crashing to the floor. He raised a hand to her, but by that time, she was gone. She had run away to her room, both her salvation, and her hell.
It's too late
To love me now
You have never shown me
It's too late
To love me know
You don't even know me
Fists clenched, breathing unsteady, her dark corner was the only haven that could shelter her from the pain that ceaslessly plagued her spirit. It was one thing for him to be angry with her for acting out against him, or for her public out-cries that opposed his political veiw, but now he had crossed the line. She was fifteen now, whatever growing she had done thus far had been of her own accord. Yet he locked her away in her room, yet again, for something as simple as staying out past curfew. He was trying to be a father, asserting an authority over her that he had no right, by this time, to possess.
"I am your father. I worry about you when you don't make it home on time," he had said earlier.
"You're not my father," she had replied.
A heavy sigh had filled the room for a moment, before he said at last, "I know I've made some mistakes in the past, but I am still your father! You are to respect me as such. I am just as much your parent as you mother was."
"You are nowhere near what Mom was!" she shouted standing from her seat. "How dare you neglect me for ten years then expect me to worship the ground you walk on!"
"I'm not asking for that, I'm just asking-"
"I don't care what you're asking! You can just go to hell! You missed your chance to be a father to me. You don't even know me!"
Breaking a part of my heart to find release
Taking you out of my blood to bring me peace
Keep it locked up inside
Keep my distance from your lies
The sound of a train whistle shook her from her memories bringing her attention back to the present. She had just turned sixteen, and now she was on her way to Timber, to fight for a cause she really believed in. Her father couldn't hold her back anymore. She had finally found her small bit of freedom.
She watched the surrounding land rush past at impossible speeds, while behind her, the outline of Deling City was quickly fading away. For the first time in what might've been years, she smiled, whole-heartedly. She felt a change in herself, in her attitude. Maybe her wounds were finally healing, though it would take time before the sting faded away.
As the train moved further and further away from her home, she felt more and more burden being lifted off of her shoulders. She was alone now, yes, but in a good way. She was Rinoa Heartilly, one person, happy, independent, and free...
******************************************************************* Bonus
A/N: This is a little peice I wrote for a writing contest. I liked it (even though you may not) so I thought I'd add it on here so more people could read it. It's called "Reflection of Secrets" and was entered into a contest about fear.
Staring at yourself in the mirror is a daily occurrence, something you never think much about. Unless you're me.
Glaring into the smooth, glass surface of the mirror, I don't really see myself. Instead, I see my faults, my flaws, and the tainted soul that lies beyond this sheltering layer of skin. Behind the facade that they see lies something dark, almost sinister that I fear I can no longer control. What's happened to me?
Looking back on what I once was brings nothing but pain, and an unquenchable thirst for answers. This hollow shell of a human being that I hide behind can't protect them from what rages underneath. Festering wounds writhe beneath the surface, eating away at what's left of me like some treacherous illness, burning from the inside out, scarring invisible flesh for eternity.
The longer I contain it, the more deadly, the more venomous this disease becomes. It's too late, however. It's been too long, it's grown too much. An explosion is inevitable, now. And all I can think of is the fear.
Perhaps what scares me the most, is the fact that I've grown scared of myself. I use to fear nothing, but now I can't contain this thriving apprehension that makes my heart pound, not quickly but more slowly than before, as if I'm on the verge of death, while my stomach roars, acid sizzling as the nausea creeps up my throat.
What scares me the most, is the fear itself as I battle the darkness ablaze at my core. I fear the reflection in the mirror, and the secrets it always seems to hold.
A/N: Well, I loved this song when I first heard, just a couple of weeks ago, and it seems fitting, no? In addition to the songfic, at the bottom I also included a little peice of work I did, unrelated to the story, but I thought it was pretty good, so it's there.
Where do I start
Disjointed heart
I've got no commitment
To my own flesh and blood
She stared out at the city streets, watching the people walk past, free and laughing. They each had their own destination in mind, and trudged down the road endlessly, never once glancing up at the watchful girl above.
She'd been sitting in that room for hours now, with nothing to do but watch the pedestrains. The door to her room was locked, as usual, and her windows were barred of course. Every now and then he would come to the door and ask her if she changed her mind, and each time she would ignore him, directing her gaze to the window once more.
This time, however, there was no subtle knock. Instead, he barged into the room, his wrinkled face cold and emotionless as he told her that he'd let her sit there and rot for the rest of her life if she didn't change her mind, if she didn't agree with him.
"Do you know how much you shame me?" he asked. "You're absolutely awful! It's time you stop this foolishness. You're too young to be trying to run away, as it is! How would it look to everyone for my daughter to be acting this way? Don't you care in the least about how I feel?"
The tears welled up in her eyes, an unstoppable force that could not be withheld now that the dam of her self-control had broke. But even as he continued to rant and yell, even while fresh streaks of liquid silver made their way down her twelve-year old cheeks, she continued to stare out the window, determined not to have her pride broken.
Left all alone
Far from my home
No one to hear me
To heal my ill heart, I...
Keep it locked up inside
It had been this way since her mother had died, when she was only five years old. Her father was once a loving, caring person, happy to be with is family. But he needed a scape-goat for his misery now, and she was the most convenient thing. She didn't know what it was to have a family, to have someone she could trust, or rely on. No, she had only herself, and the reflection that haunted her in the mirror.
Every morning she would awake and gaze into the reflective glass only to find her image a little more distorted than it use to be. Another peice of her soul was visibly missing, and everyone that saw her knew it, but the person that took it the worst was the one who had to face the disturbing image everyday. Everyday she would hear him yelling, and another part of her giving it's last cry before death. Everyday she would see his hellish glare drilling holes through her small form while she saw another part of that innocent look on her face fade away, and be replaced by premature age. Everyday she would feel the scorching sensation that defied both the physical and the emotional. It was on a plane somewhere between, burning her at both ends, so there was no where to run. There was no where she could run to get away from herself.
Can I express
To the point I've regressed
If anger's a gift
Then I guess I've been blessed, I...
Keep it locked up, inside
Keep my distance from you lies
White light rained down through crystal pillars, in a shower of expensive extravagence as the present military personel and their dates raised their glasses in toast to the man of the hour, none other than the man that her life tightly in his hand, refusing to let go.
They only saw what they wanted to see, a great leader, a brave general, an all around good guy. It was amazing the things that people were willing to over-look in exchange for the power that his strategic brilliance gave them. Beneath the glimmering chandeliers, the tortured soul behind the brave facade was exposed for any who chose to open their eyes and see. Her cover was blown wide-open, as she couldn't hide her eternally reddened eyes, and tear-stained cheeks from the ever watchful public eye. But their eyes were not on her, but on him instead. They cheered for him, celebrated him... and all the while, she could only sit quietly, anger bubbling underneath her calm exterior.
Her soft brown eyes, reflecting the broken person she was growing up to be, witnessed as he walked closer to her, a group of people in tow. It was time for the infamous formalities to begin, for the snide remarks to be exchanged while the rich men and women would laugh as if it were all a big joke, nothing more than a game.
This particular night, however, was different. As she noticed them coming her way, she stood from her seat and started to walk away, a feeling of rebelliousness rising within her that could not be quelled. He caught up with her, as she expected, and introduced her to his guests.
"Where were you going?" he asked her nicely. "It's not you bed time, yet."
"To my room. You must like me to stay there, since you lock me in there so often," she replied with mock-innocence.
He laughed, turning to his visitors. "She has such a sense of humor. You can see why I love having her around so much." While the others laughed he bent down close ot her. "If you ever pull something like that again, I will lock you in your room for weeks!" he hissed. Upon her cringe, he sighed. "Why do you always make me punish you like this? It hurts me more than you."
She could almost physically feel her last bit of patients snap, while she was flooded with a primal, scalding rage that she could no longer contain. "I hate you!" she yelled suddenly, giving the table a shove so hard that it tipped, and everything went crashing to the floor. He raised a hand to her, but by that time, she was gone. She had run away to her room, both her salvation, and her hell.
It's too late
To love me now
You have never shown me
It's too late
To love me know
You don't even know me
Fists clenched, breathing unsteady, her dark corner was the only haven that could shelter her from the pain that ceaslessly plagued her spirit. It was one thing for him to be angry with her for acting out against him, or for her public out-cries that opposed his political veiw, but now he had crossed the line. She was fifteen now, whatever growing she had done thus far had been of her own accord. Yet he locked her away in her room, yet again, for something as simple as staying out past curfew. He was trying to be a father, asserting an authority over her that he had no right, by this time, to possess.
"I am your father. I worry about you when you don't make it home on time," he had said earlier.
"You're not my father," she had replied.
A heavy sigh had filled the room for a moment, before he said at last, "I know I've made some mistakes in the past, but I am still your father! You are to respect me as such. I am just as much your parent as you mother was."
"You are nowhere near what Mom was!" she shouted standing from her seat. "How dare you neglect me for ten years then expect me to worship the ground you walk on!"
"I'm not asking for that, I'm just asking-"
"I don't care what you're asking! You can just go to hell! You missed your chance to be a father to me. You don't even know me!"
Breaking a part of my heart to find release
Taking you out of my blood to bring me peace
Keep it locked up inside
Keep my distance from your lies
The sound of a train whistle shook her from her memories bringing her attention back to the present. She had just turned sixteen, and now she was on her way to Timber, to fight for a cause she really believed in. Her father couldn't hold her back anymore. She had finally found her small bit of freedom.
She watched the surrounding land rush past at impossible speeds, while behind her, the outline of Deling City was quickly fading away. For the first time in what might've been years, she smiled, whole-heartedly. She felt a change in herself, in her attitude. Maybe her wounds were finally healing, though it would take time before the sting faded away.
As the train moved further and further away from her home, she felt more and more burden being lifted off of her shoulders. She was alone now, yes, but in a good way. She was Rinoa Heartilly, one person, happy, independent, and free...
******************************************************************* Bonus
A/N: This is a little peice I wrote for a writing contest. I liked it (even though you may not) so I thought I'd add it on here so more people could read it. It's called "Reflection of Secrets" and was entered into a contest about fear.
Staring at yourself in the mirror is a daily occurrence, something you never think much about. Unless you're me.
Glaring into the smooth, glass surface of the mirror, I don't really see myself. Instead, I see my faults, my flaws, and the tainted soul that lies beyond this sheltering layer of skin. Behind the facade that they see lies something dark, almost sinister that I fear I can no longer control. What's happened to me?
Looking back on what I once was brings nothing but pain, and an unquenchable thirst for answers. This hollow shell of a human being that I hide behind can't protect them from what rages underneath. Festering wounds writhe beneath the surface, eating away at what's left of me like some treacherous illness, burning from the inside out, scarring invisible flesh for eternity.
The longer I contain it, the more deadly, the more venomous this disease becomes. It's too late, however. It's been too long, it's grown too much. An explosion is inevitable, now. And all I can think of is the fear.
Perhaps what scares me the most, is the fact that I've grown scared of myself. I use to fear nothing, but now I can't contain this thriving apprehension that makes my heart pound, not quickly but more slowly than before, as if I'm on the verge of death, while my stomach roars, acid sizzling as the nausea creeps up my throat.
What scares me the most, is the fear itself as I battle the darkness ablaze at my core. I fear the reflection in the mirror, and the secrets it always seems to hold.