Disclaimer: Rukata (http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=211502&hal=authors#bot) who wrote Worse than Death (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1044037) graciously let me borrow her ideas (because I couldn't make up my own :(). Read her fic, my stomach's still knotted. And the ever wonderful L J Smith.
Warning: Child abuse of the rape and beating variety, and rape later on. Hence the rating. Not detailed but it's there...
Summary: There are worse things than death. You don't even have to be a Nightworlder to realise that. But when Bittern gets that offer into freedom, all his torturers are going to pay.
AN: Yes, Flame's in this one too. I happen to like the name and I'm to name lazy to think up another character. His job description's pretty cliqued anyway...
Bittern
The rain was pouring, as if it could do nothing else. A lone huddled up figure sat on the bench in only tee shirt and jeans. His hair was plastered to his scalp and his skinny frame was shaking violently. Please don't let them find me. Maybe so that didn't happen he should hide…
He screamed a frail terrified sound as the back of his shirt was grabbed.
"Here you are! Running away again whore. Did you think you could escape your parents? That's triple for you tonight."
Triple...Bitterns mind froze in fear and the memory of pain. They where just waiting for a reason. Any reason. And he had just given it to them. His parents.
They would have found one anyway.
That night, tied to his parents' bed, the belt biting cruelly into his aching arms he stared at the ceiling, beyond feeling. His blood ran with their body fluids on the bed. Red on white. Soaked cotton beneath his belly. That sickening smell. The eternal pain. It stayed with him night and day. After the deep flesh wounds had healed. But maybe that was what he was there for. He didn't give a fuck anymore. He didn't know what innocence meant. His makers had seen to that.
They would grunt and groan softly above him, his punishment for being born. His hell to endure. Maybe if he pleased them they would go away faster. If they went away faster he would not have to endure the 'accidental' cuts over his already scared body tonight... but the hope is a weak one. As weak as his body.
When morning comes, he is still crying. His face is stone, his eyes red and he's screaming as loud as he can inside. But as ever, there is no one there to hear.
His parents had a way with words. "Shhh, just enjoy it. Shhh, it'll be alright." Their slimy tongues travelling his body, in anyplace they can get. A special birthday present. Fifteen years in this life.
In the shower there is no razor there anymore. His parents are afraid that he'd go to the doctors with his self-inflicted wounds, the only peace he ever had. His nails did just as well, if not as deep. But the slow pick, pick of his bitten down nails was endless pain to silence within.
At school they notice that he falls asleep in all his lessons. They know that he doesn't give a fuck about his work. They see the cuts and scars, the bruises and his hate. But all they do is phone his parents and stir the pot well.
Another two years of repeated classes, ever failing grades. But what does that matter? It's all Bitterns fault anyway. At seventeen he's short and pale, almost rake thin and a temper he doesn't bother to control. His lank greasy hair falls into his naught, blue eyes.
Girls whisper about him on the corners, like he was deaf, like he wasn't there.
"...I heard he killed someone..."
"...He's so ugly..."
"...His parent's are hard on him..."
"...Who would want to be friends with him?"
"...He's like a whipped dog..."
And that was the last straw. He was a victim.
"I refuse to be a victim anymore." The only bit of determination he had. They, his makers laughed at him. "Your not a victim sweetie, you're lucky..." And the anger, for a long time dormant, blazed.
When left alone, in his bed to hide under the covers, bleeding and weeping the tears do not come. They hide inside, behind something new and something much better. He refused to be a victim. But that was hidden behind the fear.
Seline ran like the devil was behind her. In an awful way he was. A devil that was angelic, with blonde hair and ice blue eyes. An Angel of Death that had fallen and fallen deep. Beautiful he was and expert at this game Seline did not know. He had herded her expertly far from the crowds, her mind guiding her completely astray, and now she was paying the price for her stupidity.
In a deserted area that Seline had never meant to visit she stopped and doubled over, bile rising as she wobbled, fear like a copper in her mouth, a taste, a physical sense. Her chest heaved dangerously in her low cut top.
"What's this? Given up already..." The mockingly gentle voice chided her, tsking away.
She screamed and stumbled on, the man right behind. He laughed as he heard the girl, his dinner cry out in relief. "You're human!" And he laughed even harder when he heard her screams as she was raped.
Bittern couldn't believe his luck. He'd runaway successfully. He was five hundred miles away from his parents. A totally alien town. They'd never do anything to him again. He'd die before he went back. Not even the hospital had been his heaven. The men in black suits had seen what his parents had done, and tried to live up to their standards. It had hurt even worse. These people where not his makers, but when it was said and done did it matter who or what fucked him? Worthless him...
And ahead of him was a girl. A beautiful girl in the polluted air of the city, running precariously in high heels. Bittern shook his head. She should have known better than to come to this part of town. She had known at least to run away towards the light.
He felt a sudden anger at this perfect girl, in her rich and luxurious cloth. She wasn't scared for life. She was running for her life though...! Bittern laughed brittlely. What fun, she was making her ever-slower progress down his alley. In fact he could be the one to have fun...
As she saw him, and seemed to sag in relief he pulled her closer, and told her what his parents had told him.
"Shhh, It's alright."
He ripped her ridiculous outfit off. It was the middle of winter.
He held her as she struggled. "Shhh, just enjoy it whore."
He pressed her to the glass littered floor. The broken shards digging into her one smooth back. Her whimpers did something to him. Gave him satisfaction that he'd never dreamed of before. He was in control. He was not the victim and never again, after he'd tasted this power would he be.
"Mum, dad, I thank you." He spat to the graffiti smothered wall, her bruised and bleeding body, and the filthy alley with closed in walls. He wanted to kill them. At the same time the fear was ever present.
He turned and gasped as he saw the figure standing there, casually pulling on a cigarette. "That was... amusing. It's amazing what humans will do to each other. However, you just fucked my dinner."
Bittern stared as the fangs came out. A new kind of pain in his neck. Death was the only release. It was a welcome release. He started laughing, and couldn't stop. The vampire stepped back and stared at him, seemingly perplexed to Bitterns blackening vision.
And you're even more fucked up inside.
It would be quite a game in fact, setting this boy on the world. Flame Azure started to change him there, letting some of his blood into the humans system. Soon, the boy, Bittern his name was, would be a Nightworlder. Flame laughed as he left the dank alley, his night made.
A while later Bittern staggered away, his knees weak, his heart beating and his breath ragged. He couldn't quite make sense of it, but it had happened. He was stronger like never before. The words of the vampire where ringing in his mind. You'll be immortal, strong and fast. Nothing can harm you and vermin will be your prey.
Vermin. An apt description.
He left the girl sobbing hoarsely, naked under the frosty rain.
Please review. Constructive criticism welcome. Saying you liked would be even better. :)