"Fuck."
Blood was warm.
"You fucking idiot."
The touch of knife against skin was cool, until it pierced skin and drew warm blood.
"You fucking idiot."
He knew this because his little corner was filled with secrets he could not tell. It was more then a corner, it was a closet with his blankets, clothes and a pillow. It had a door, but even that was not enough to cover him from the darkness and lies that surrounded him. Each night, he watched the arrival of men, dressed in blue suits and dark glasses, go to Mara's room with cuts that needed to be bandaged and cleaned. Who these men were, he never asked. He learned to stop asking questions long before.
"Vincent!"
He hated his name. He hated his black hair and blue eyes, just so pretty, a face that never showed the trembling of his heart or the tears raging in his mind. Because he never showed them, these emotions that tore at his mind and made his ears ring with begging necessity -
"VINCENT!"
He wasn't so sure if he knew what he was feeling was real. But pain and blood was real.
Mara was the only one in this house who did not glare at him with hatred. She spoke tough, her mouth forever yelling and shouting out his name. But it did not matter, her hands never touched him. That was enough for him.
"Coming."
He dropped the knife he grasped between his fingers and pulled on his shirt. Pausing to let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, he opened the door with the back of his hand while the other wiped the drops of blood from his palm against the wall of his room. This was his reality.
Chapter One: The Child
When darkness fell, the valley seemed like an abyss. The lights of the city seemed as if part of a different world, a world that did not belong in such darkness. The people never ventured outside when darkness fell, because who knew what hatred would meet them outside in the streets? People were killed by others who didn't give a damn, money was hard to find, even more difficult to take away. Gangs ruled the corners, and women sold their bodies - it became a habit to stop praying and start carrying a gun.
This wasn't a place for children. The playground was littered with glass shards, ripped condoms and empty bullet cases - and this was the place that he ran to whenever life within the house was too much for him to handle. But tonight, when the shadows were even darker because of the full moon, he did not run as usual to his hiding spot beneath the slide. No, he had an errand to run for Mara.
In his hands, he held a package wrapped in brown paper, crisscrossed with strings and covered in tape. It was small, barely the width of his arm, and very light. He would have no trouble carrying it to Sothen St., 3rd Warehouse to the left. It was cold, a writhing breeze that shook his slender frame and bit his nose, ears and lips. He knew that if he ran, the shadows that watched him from afar would chase after him, but he was so cold.
He stood in front of the house for just one minute, warming up his hands with his breath, thinking. Who would give him a ride so late at night?
He didn't want to go and ask, but he never really liked the night anyway. He wouldn't get any sleep if he came back home late without delivering the package, nor would he be left alone.
Vincent grasped the package with his small hands and started walking to the Sugar District, his eyes carefully following the shadows that haunted each street corner. Nothing was safe in this town.
===
Vincent sat in a velvet chair, the tips of his feet barely touching the carpeted floor. He kept his eyes peeled forward, at the wall hung with nude pictures and flashing neon lights. Men and women walked by, heavy with alcohol or with lust, glazing half heatedly at the pretty, but bruised, child. His fingers were blue, and his nose was red, a manifestation of the few minutes he spent walking in such a bitter cold, but no one cared to ask if he wanted a drink - of which the House had plenty of - or a blanket - which each room in the House had.
Vincent hated it here. But he had to wait, because the woman with the red nails and silver hair told him to.
He started to sing a song he had in his mind, but never learned, to amuse himself as the customers wove themselves in and out of the lobby to their rooms, supported by half clad men and women. Vincent knew a few of these prostitutes - most of them were servants like him, who ran away only to end up here. All those who ran away either became a part of this House, or was killed.
--- But could death really be that bad? ---
"Vinny! My child! Love of my heart!"
Vincent looked up in time to see the glimmer of a gold cross catching the fluorescent light before he was smothered by oiled skin. Orion smelled like coconuts, a warm fruity smell that Vincent loved with all his heart.
"Give me a kiss, my boy."
Orion held Vincent's chin with his ringed fingers and kissed the boy's open mouth gently. Orion was the most beautiful thing that Vincent ever saw, all gold and smooth skin, straw hair that felt like waves of velvet against Vincent's own roughed skin. Orion was once too a servant like Vincent, but he became the object of fancy and fantasy. Orion was rich, Orion was in high demand from men and women alike. Orion was everything Vincent feared he would become. It made Vincent sad, in a dream like sort of way. If this was his future, at least he could die beautiful like Orion.
"What do you have there, Vinny?"
Orion's eyes were like liquid ink, deep and dark, holding a light that Vincent never understood. He squirmed away from Orion's glance and touch, drawing in his legs and arms around the package.
"Can you give me a ride? To Soothen St?"
"What are you doing there, Vinny?"
"I might die if I walk there. I don't want to die.
Yet."
The way he said yet was like a slap of mockery. -- You want to die, don't you? -- The voices in his head started to laugh, a laugh like Orion's own. The lithe man dropped onto his knees, wrapping up the child in his arms.
"Oh, Vinny boy. They'll throw you away when they're done with you. Get out while you can."
And when Vincent said nothing, Orion laughed again and kissed the boy's forehead.
"Fuck you to hell, Vinny boy. You know too don't you?"
"Fuck you and me to hell, Vinny boy."
===
The car smelled like oils, foreign and sultry oils that sent Vincent's mind to a different place. The radio was playing a soft love song, a song that Orion sang softly. The driver was a boyfriend of Orion's, one of the few who did not look at Vincent as if he was just another body to defile, another toy to claim.
--- Everything would look prettier, if it snowed. ---
But even Vincent's little wish would mean nothing because it never snowed here. Only once, when he was born, but Orion and Mara told him that story so many times, he wasn't sure if it was a real story anymore, and not just a made up fairy tale to make him fall asleep.
The streets seemed it was made by the same hand, unwilling to have even one different change to them, just like everyone's life story. He pressed his bare hand against the cold glass, watching the warmth of his body make a print against tinted glass. He breathed and a river of mist cut though the darkened glass. One finger started tracing designs, interlocking circles to amuse himself as the car rode swiftly though the waning night.
-- Was this how it felt? To wander into this city, and believing that everything will turn out okay? --
Vincent watched Orion. His face was sunken, but even then, he looked beautiful. The secret Orion held was too much for Vincent to believe in. Orion was dying.
--- You were so wrong, Mommy. ---
===
"Be good, Vinny"
The glare of the car's headlights made his eyes close. It was too dark for light of any kind. He heard Orion's gentle laugh and he squirmed, thinking what Orion had to do to have such an easy laugh. No one heard Vincent's laugh before, except for the laughter in his head, but that didn't count. The fog from the mountains and the machines that worked endlessly crept in around Vincent's slender body, cloaking him with misty acceptance. He hated the night, but out here, he felt almost alive. the wind bit into his open wounds, making his blood rush to his head. A slight ringing sound was heard in his ears, as if someone was talking about him, someone he couldn't hear.
--- Out with you, where are you hiding? ---
== Hello, little one. ==
Vincent looked up, and saw slender arms reaching down to embrace him with a touch as gentle as that of the fog, and as cold. Large sea blue eyes stared down at him, eyes filled with a light reminiscent of Orion's own. On her fingers was the mark of interlocking circles, the same pattern that he drew on the window. Her hair shone silver, real silver, like diamonds. She didn't look like anyone Vincent knew, with her long legs and catlike body. That was why Vincent trusted only her.
--- Why didn't you come sooner? ---
=== You should have called me sooner, then. ===
The fairy kissed him, never letting the little child out of her embrace. Vincent felt a gentle soothing wave washed over his trembling body, and felt a cold hand pressed against his hot head. Everything felt like a dream. It always felt this way when Mab was with him.
--- I want to sleep. ---
=== No, not yet. Not yet, my dear. ===
--- I want to go away, never to come back. ---
=== You can, if you want, but where will you go? ===
--- Anywhere but here. To find my mom. --
=== She wouldn't be found. ===
--- I know. I want to follow her. ---
=== Come, little one. Be strong. We will walk together. ===
====
Vincent pushed against the warehouse's door, and walked into a hell of raging red light. Someone grabbed him roughly by the neck, making Mab scowl at the offending man. A wind drifted in, sending astray bits of paper and empty soda cans. Vincent wasn't afraid. He kept his hand steady, keeping the package against his jutting hip. The warehouse was hot, and the change of cold air to hot made Vincent sweat, tiny beads of sweat that hugged the side of his face.
"Package for..."
His voice failed him and he coughed to clear it. There was nothing to fear. Mab was with him.
"Tseng, of Shinra Inc."
"Let him go, you fucker. He's just a kid."
Vincent's assailant dropped him, and as his feet slapped the warehouse's concrete floor, Vincent managed to nod yes. Mab shook her head, but with one last caress to his cheek, she disappear in a cloud of rose colored smoke. It might hurt her to know, but Vincent didn't need Mab as much as Mab needed him, It broke his heart, almost, to realize that his childish naivete was dying so fast.
"Are you Tseng?"
===
Too many hard nights. Too many hours spent drinking and fucking women off the streets. Occasionally, he spent the nights in care of the male prostitutes, bringing with him his secretary, to watch someone else get fucked. Because of this, Tseng saw very little that made him feel a wave of surprise. But the sight of the child messenger made his eyes open with a slight shock.
The child was shockingly white, beyond pale, making his dark stormy eyes appear too bright, too wise and too fierce. Slender hands wrapped themselves around jutting shoulders, in a gesture that made his youth that much obvious. But the expression ion the child's face, one that spoke nothing but accepted indifference, made Tseng realize how different the child was. Because he too had the same expression on his face, embedded into his soul and a part of his mind.
"I am. Thank you."
Tseng held out his hand to accept the package, which the child placed in his possession. He lightly stepped back, and the fluid grace of his moves recalled to Tseng's mind a bird. That child will grow up to be beautiful.
"By the way, before you leave, would you like something to eat?"
"No."
Tseng shook his head, not understanding how such a slender, almost treelike figure would deny food. Surely, as a servant, the child got feed less and beaten more. That was the way it was with servants and masters, especially the master of the house that the child served. Tseng didn't feel pity for him, but rather, admiration that at such a young age, he already knew that nothing could change.
"Before you go, what's your name."
"I don't have one."
Ah, so the child was a bastard as well. Tseng felt delicious amusement tickling against the side of his throat.
"What do they call you, then?"
"Vincent."
Tseng smiled, reaching out to touch the child's face. He let him, his eyes closing as if Tseng's fingers burnt his skin. So smooth, so young. Tseng smiled again.
"Well, then Vincent, I'll tell you what. If it gets to bad over there..."
The child's eyes snapped open, hungrily, as if Tseng fed him something he couldn't deny nor ignore. Tseng's voice dropped, lower, almost to a purr as the child shook again.
"You can always come here. We have a place for you."
He smiled again, and the child was his.
"I promise."
===
Vincent stood outside the house, being dropped off by Tseng's guards. The man was sweet, he was nice, nicer then Orion because Tseng never wanted to touch him. Could he trust Tseng? Vincent looked down at his hands, rubbed with lotion by Tseng's young teenage secretary, and the gentle smiling faces that surrounded him. But what was trust?
"VINCENT! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"
He would never know.
"I'm coming Mara."
Blood was warm.
"You fucking idiot."
The touch of knife against skin was cool, until it pierced skin and drew warm blood.
"You fucking idiot."
He knew this because his little corner was filled with secrets he could not tell. It was more then a corner, it was a closet with his blankets, clothes and a pillow. It had a door, but even that was not enough to cover him from the darkness and lies that surrounded him. Each night, he watched the arrival of men, dressed in blue suits and dark glasses, go to Mara's room with cuts that needed to be bandaged and cleaned. Who these men were, he never asked. He learned to stop asking questions long before.
"Vincent!"
He hated his name. He hated his black hair and blue eyes, just so pretty, a face that never showed the trembling of his heart or the tears raging in his mind. Because he never showed them, these emotions that tore at his mind and made his ears ring with begging necessity -
"VINCENT!"
He wasn't so sure if he knew what he was feeling was real. But pain and blood was real.
Mara was the only one in this house who did not glare at him with hatred. She spoke tough, her mouth forever yelling and shouting out his name. But it did not matter, her hands never touched him. That was enough for him.
"Coming."
He dropped the knife he grasped between his fingers and pulled on his shirt. Pausing to let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, he opened the door with the back of his hand while the other wiped the drops of blood from his palm against the wall of his room. This was his reality.
Chapter One: The Child
When darkness fell, the valley seemed like an abyss. The lights of the city seemed as if part of a different world, a world that did not belong in such darkness. The people never ventured outside when darkness fell, because who knew what hatred would meet them outside in the streets? People were killed by others who didn't give a damn, money was hard to find, even more difficult to take away. Gangs ruled the corners, and women sold their bodies - it became a habit to stop praying and start carrying a gun.
This wasn't a place for children. The playground was littered with glass shards, ripped condoms and empty bullet cases - and this was the place that he ran to whenever life within the house was too much for him to handle. But tonight, when the shadows were even darker because of the full moon, he did not run as usual to his hiding spot beneath the slide. No, he had an errand to run for Mara.
In his hands, he held a package wrapped in brown paper, crisscrossed with strings and covered in tape. It was small, barely the width of his arm, and very light. He would have no trouble carrying it to Sothen St., 3rd Warehouse to the left. It was cold, a writhing breeze that shook his slender frame and bit his nose, ears and lips. He knew that if he ran, the shadows that watched him from afar would chase after him, but he was so cold.
He stood in front of the house for just one minute, warming up his hands with his breath, thinking. Who would give him a ride so late at night?
He didn't want to go and ask, but he never really liked the night anyway. He wouldn't get any sleep if he came back home late without delivering the package, nor would he be left alone.
Vincent grasped the package with his small hands and started walking to the Sugar District, his eyes carefully following the shadows that haunted each street corner. Nothing was safe in this town.
===
Vincent sat in a velvet chair, the tips of his feet barely touching the carpeted floor. He kept his eyes peeled forward, at the wall hung with nude pictures and flashing neon lights. Men and women walked by, heavy with alcohol or with lust, glazing half heatedly at the pretty, but bruised, child. His fingers were blue, and his nose was red, a manifestation of the few minutes he spent walking in such a bitter cold, but no one cared to ask if he wanted a drink - of which the House had plenty of - or a blanket - which each room in the House had.
Vincent hated it here. But he had to wait, because the woman with the red nails and silver hair told him to.
He started to sing a song he had in his mind, but never learned, to amuse himself as the customers wove themselves in and out of the lobby to their rooms, supported by half clad men and women. Vincent knew a few of these prostitutes - most of them were servants like him, who ran away only to end up here. All those who ran away either became a part of this House, or was killed.
--- But could death really be that bad? ---
"Vinny! My child! Love of my heart!"
Vincent looked up in time to see the glimmer of a gold cross catching the fluorescent light before he was smothered by oiled skin. Orion smelled like coconuts, a warm fruity smell that Vincent loved with all his heart.
"Give me a kiss, my boy."
Orion held Vincent's chin with his ringed fingers and kissed the boy's open mouth gently. Orion was the most beautiful thing that Vincent ever saw, all gold and smooth skin, straw hair that felt like waves of velvet against Vincent's own roughed skin. Orion was once too a servant like Vincent, but he became the object of fancy and fantasy. Orion was rich, Orion was in high demand from men and women alike. Orion was everything Vincent feared he would become. It made Vincent sad, in a dream like sort of way. If this was his future, at least he could die beautiful like Orion.
"What do you have there, Vinny?"
Orion's eyes were like liquid ink, deep and dark, holding a light that Vincent never understood. He squirmed away from Orion's glance and touch, drawing in his legs and arms around the package.
"Can you give me a ride? To Soothen St?"
"What are you doing there, Vinny?"
"I might die if I walk there. I don't want to die.
Yet."
The way he said yet was like a slap of mockery. -- You want to die, don't you? -- The voices in his head started to laugh, a laugh like Orion's own. The lithe man dropped onto his knees, wrapping up the child in his arms.
"Oh, Vinny boy. They'll throw you away when they're done with you. Get out while you can."
And when Vincent said nothing, Orion laughed again and kissed the boy's forehead.
"Fuck you to hell, Vinny boy. You know too don't you?"
"Fuck you and me to hell, Vinny boy."
===
The car smelled like oils, foreign and sultry oils that sent Vincent's mind to a different place. The radio was playing a soft love song, a song that Orion sang softly. The driver was a boyfriend of Orion's, one of the few who did not look at Vincent as if he was just another body to defile, another toy to claim.
--- Everything would look prettier, if it snowed. ---
But even Vincent's little wish would mean nothing because it never snowed here. Only once, when he was born, but Orion and Mara told him that story so many times, he wasn't sure if it was a real story anymore, and not just a made up fairy tale to make him fall asleep.
The streets seemed it was made by the same hand, unwilling to have even one different change to them, just like everyone's life story. He pressed his bare hand against the cold glass, watching the warmth of his body make a print against tinted glass. He breathed and a river of mist cut though the darkened glass. One finger started tracing designs, interlocking circles to amuse himself as the car rode swiftly though the waning night.
-- Was this how it felt? To wander into this city, and believing that everything will turn out okay? --
Vincent watched Orion. His face was sunken, but even then, he looked beautiful. The secret Orion held was too much for Vincent to believe in. Orion was dying.
--- You were so wrong, Mommy. ---
===
"Be good, Vinny"
The glare of the car's headlights made his eyes close. It was too dark for light of any kind. He heard Orion's gentle laugh and he squirmed, thinking what Orion had to do to have such an easy laugh. No one heard Vincent's laugh before, except for the laughter in his head, but that didn't count. The fog from the mountains and the machines that worked endlessly crept in around Vincent's slender body, cloaking him with misty acceptance. He hated the night, but out here, he felt almost alive. the wind bit into his open wounds, making his blood rush to his head. A slight ringing sound was heard in his ears, as if someone was talking about him, someone he couldn't hear.
--- Out with you, where are you hiding? ---
== Hello, little one. ==
Vincent looked up, and saw slender arms reaching down to embrace him with a touch as gentle as that of the fog, and as cold. Large sea blue eyes stared down at him, eyes filled with a light reminiscent of Orion's own. On her fingers was the mark of interlocking circles, the same pattern that he drew on the window. Her hair shone silver, real silver, like diamonds. She didn't look like anyone Vincent knew, with her long legs and catlike body. That was why Vincent trusted only her.
--- Why didn't you come sooner? ---
=== You should have called me sooner, then. ===
The fairy kissed him, never letting the little child out of her embrace. Vincent felt a gentle soothing wave washed over his trembling body, and felt a cold hand pressed against his hot head. Everything felt like a dream. It always felt this way when Mab was with him.
--- I want to sleep. ---
=== No, not yet. Not yet, my dear. ===
--- I want to go away, never to come back. ---
=== You can, if you want, but where will you go? ===
--- Anywhere but here. To find my mom. --
=== She wouldn't be found. ===
--- I know. I want to follow her. ---
=== Come, little one. Be strong. We will walk together. ===
====
Vincent pushed against the warehouse's door, and walked into a hell of raging red light. Someone grabbed him roughly by the neck, making Mab scowl at the offending man. A wind drifted in, sending astray bits of paper and empty soda cans. Vincent wasn't afraid. He kept his hand steady, keeping the package against his jutting hip. The warehouse was hot, and the change of cold air to hot made Vincent sweat, tiny beads of sweat that hugged the side of his face.
"Package for..."
His voice failed him and he coughed to clear it. There was nothing to fear. Mab was with him.
"Tseng, of Shinra Inc."
"Let him go, you fucker. He's just a kid."
Vincent's assailant dropped him, and as his feet slapped the warehouse's concrete floor, Vincent managed to nod yes. Mab shook her head, but with one last caress to his cheek, she disappear in a cloud of rose colored smoke. It might hurt her to know, but Vincent didn't need Mab as much as Mab needed him, It broke his heart, almost, to realize that his childish naivete was dying so fast.
"Are you Tseng?"
===
Too many hard nights. Too many hours spent drinking and fucking women off the streets. Occasionally, he spent the nights in care of the male prostitutes, bringing with him his secretary, to watch someone else get fucked. Because of this, Tseng saw very little that made him feel a wave of surprise. But the sight of the child messenger made his eyes open with a slight shock.
The child was shockingly white, beyond pale, making his dark stormy eyes appear too bright, too wise and too fierce. Slender hands wrapped themselves around jutting shoulders, in a gesture that made his youth that much obvious. But the expression ion the child's face, one that spoke nothing but accepted indifference, made Tseng realize how different the child was. Because he too had the same expression on his face, embedded into his soul and a part of his mind.
"I am. Thank you."
Tseng held out his hand to accept the package, which the child placed in his possession. He lightly stepped back, and the fluid grace of his moves recalled to Tseng's mind a bird. That child will grow up to be beautiful.
"By the way, before you leave, would you like something to eat?"
"No."
Tseng shook his head, not understanding how such a slender, almost treelike figure would deny food. Surely, as a servant, the child got feed less and beaten more. That was the way it was with servants and masters, especially the master of the house that the child served. Tseng didn't feel pity for him, but rather, admiration that at such a young age, he already knew that nothing could change.
"Before you go, what's your name."
"I don't have one."
Ah, so the child was a bastard as well. Tseng felt delicious amusement tickling against the side of his throat.
"What do they call you, then?"
"Vincent."
Tseng smiled, reaching out to touch the child's face. He let him, his eyes closing as if Tseng's fingers burnt his skin. So smooth, so young. Tseng smiled again.
"Well, then Vincent, I'll tell you what. If it gets to bad over there..."
The child's eyes snapped open, hungrily, as if Tseng fed him something he couldn't deny nor ignore. Tseng's voice dropped, lower, almost to a purr as the child shook again.
"You can always come here. We have a place for you."
He smiled again, and the child was his.
"I promise."
===
Vincent stood outside the house, being dropped off by Tseng's guards. The man was sweet, he was nice, nicer then Orion because Tseng never wanted to touch him. Could he trust Tseng? Vincent looked down at his hands, rubbed with lotion by Tseng's young teenage secretary, and the gentle smiling faces that surrounded him. But what was trust?
"VINCENT! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"
He would never know.
"I'm coming Mara."
