Ok, this is my first angsty fic people not to mention my first Yu-Gi-Oh!
story submitted on ff.net! So go easy on me!
Summary: Everyone knows Seto's childhood was unhappy, and this is how I portray it only in my version he meets a little girl locked away in the mansion's attic.. Rated for angsty-ness!
The Girl in the Attic
"I won't leave you, Mokuba . . . I promise."
Those words spun around in Seto's head and echoed through the shadowy halls of his mind as pain stained in crimson trickled down his chest, spawning blotches of its matching colour on his neat, white, buttoned-up shirt.
The salt water surging from the 11 year old's eyes, that wasn't him crying. No. They were tears but not tears of sorrow, nor were they tears of pain or regret. They were tears of exhaustion. Tears of anger. Of determination. He wouldn't betray his brother like his parents had, no. He would keep to his word to the very end.
The sound of metal clashing with a wooden surface almost burned young Seto's eyes as he tried to resist wincing from the fright it gave him. Gozaburo's hand clutched the knife tightly but kept the bloodstained blade of it pressed on the wooden, varnished table.
Seto's hand trailed up towards his collar bone where just below was an opening from where the blood was distilling down his infantile body.
"Now spell establishment properly," a cold, dispiriting voice declared putting emphasis on the word 'properly'.
With a shaky bottom lip and closed eyes, the youth uttered the first few letters correctly before briefly breaking to allow thought to pursue his loss of concentration.
"B-L..I-S-H-M.." His presumptions ceased for a moment or two at where his earlier mistake had been voiced, "E-N-T."
A glacial nod told him his second try was errorless, much like what his former life was before he and Mokuba were wretchedly betrayed by their father. Memories floated back to him . . .
"Is mom okay?"
". . ."
"Papa?"
"Seto, I'm afraid your mother. . has gone to a better place."
"Where?"
"Somewhere far from here."
"What better place? Is she coming back?"
". . ."
"Papa!?"
"Son, your mother's dead."
". .So she left me. .Us. .Mokuba. ."
"She didn't want to, Seto, it's just that these things happen."
"What things, papa!? Will you leave us too!?"
"No. I'll never leave you."
"Promise?"
"I promise, Seto."
He did leave them. After he promised he wouldn't, he did. Why!? Did he want to leave them for their mother!?
His head and chest ached whenever his thoughts were interrupted by grievous memories. But withstanding them was his pledged obligation to Mokuba and he could not and would not betray him like their father did to them.
"Learn the meaning and spelling of these off by heart by writing them down 500 times each and then you may go to bed," the cold-blooded man that was Gozaburo Kaiba near-bargained while handing a stack of ten papers, which were written on front and back, to the fragile 11 year old.
The youth bowed to his callous step-father despite the ever growing hatred buried internally within the depths of his mind and proceeded towards the door and up the all too familiar, winding staircase that lead upstairs.
There, a concerned, raven-haired 7 year old stood gripping the banister gazing at Seto intently. Those amethyst eyes haunted his mental corridors yet echoed innocently throughout the stairways of his mind. He was the reason he would survive this.
"What did he do to you, Seto?" He finally asked after minutes of staring as his amethyst eyes met Seto's cerulean ones.
"Nothing you should worry about, Mokuba," he heard himself say as he felt his cheeks burn into a smile.
As if not wanting to seem persistent yet still showing heavy uneasiness for his beloved brother, Mokuba stayed silence but continued to pierce him with that attentive stare.
Seto's paces then echoed on the marble floor as he walked past his brother towards the tormenting solitude that awaited him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
His eyes stung as often-resisted tears forced themselves past cerulean and down pale cheeks blotted with red. His achy fingers caused pain to shoot up and down his right arm. His teary eyesight made it difficult for him to make out the reading on his digital clock but after as much concentration as he could muster, Seto made it out to be 3:45am. Sleep called to him but he still had well over 950 sentences to go.
The self-pity wallowing inside of him was interrupted by faint sobbing. Normally, he would've assumed it to be Mokuba but these sobs were more feminine and they were coming from above him rather than the walls either side of him.
Overcome by his curiosity he ventured out of his room and searched for an extra staircase leading upwards to an attic maybe. . .
That's the first chapter so far! Now come on people, give me a reason to continue this story!
Summary: Everyone knows Seto's childhood was unhappy, and this is how I portray it only in my version he meets a little girl locked away in the mansion's attic.. Rated for angsty-ness!
The Girl in the Attic
"I won't leave you, Mokuba . . . I promise."
Those words spun around in Seto's head and echoed through the shadowy halls of his mind as pain stained in crimson trickled down his chest, spawning blotches of its matching colour on his neat, white, buttoned-up shirt.
The salt water surging from the 11 year old's eyes, that wasn't him crying. No. They were tears but not tears of sorrow, nor were they tears of pain or regret. They were tears of exhaustion. Tears of anger. Of determination. He wouldn't betray his brother like his parents had, no. He would keep to his word to the very end.
The sound of metal clashing with a wooden surface almost burned young Seto's eyes as he tried to resist wincing from the fright it gave him. Gozaburo's hand clutched the knife tightly but kept the bloodstained blade of it pressed on the wooden, varnished table.
Seto's hand trailed up towards his collar bone where just below was an opening from where the blood was distilling down his infantile body.
"Now spell establishment properly," a cold, dispiriting voice declared putting emphasis on the word 'properly'.
With a shaky bottom lip and closed eyes, the youth uttered the first few letters correctly before briefly breaking to allow thought to pursue his loss of concentration.
"B-L..I-S-H-M.." His presumptions ceased for a moment or two at where his earlier mistake had been voiced, "E-N-T."
A glacial nod told him his second try was errorless, much like what his former life was before he and Mokuba were wretchedly betrayed by their father. Memories floated back to him . . .
"Is mom okay?"
". . ."
"Papa?"
"Seto, I'm afraid your mother. . has gone to a better place."
"Where?"
"Somewhere far from here."
"What better place? Is she coming back?"
". . ."
"Papa!?"
"Son, your mother's dead."
". .So she left me. .Us. .Mokuba. ."
"She didn't want to, Seto, it's just that these things happen."
"What things, papa!? Will you leave us too!?"
"No. I'll never leave you."
"Promise?"
"I promise, Seto."
He did leave them. After he promised he wouldn't, he did. Why!? Did he want to leave them for their mother!?
His head and chest ached whenever his thoughts were interrupted by grievous memories. But withstanding them was his pledged obligation to Mokuba and he could not and would not betray him like their father did to them.
"Learn the meaning and spelling of these off by heart by writing them down 500 times each and then you may go to bed," the cold-blooded man that was Gozaburo Kaiba near-bargained while handing a stack of ten papers, which were written on front and back, to the fragile 11 year old.
The youth bowed to his callous step-father despite the ever growing hatred buried internally within the depths of his mind and proceeded towards the door and up the all too familiar, winding staircase that lead upstairs.
There, a concerned, raven-haired 7 year old stood gripping the banister gazing at Seto intently. Those amethyst eyes haunted his mental corridors yet echoed innocently throughout the stairways of his mind. He was the reason he would survive this.
"What did he do to you, Seto?" He finally asked after minutes of staring as his amethyst eyes met Seto's cerulean ones.
"Nothing you should worry about, Mokuba," he heard himself say as he felt his cheeks burn into a smile.
As if not wanting to seem persistent yet still showing heavy uneasiness for his beloved brother, Mokuba stayed silence but continued to pierce him with that attentive stare.
Seto's paces then echoed on the marble floor as he walked past his brother towards the tormenting solitude that awaited him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
His eyes stung as often-resisted tears forced themselves past cerulean and down pale cheeks blotted with red. His achy fingers caused pain to shoot up and down his right arm. His teary eyesight made it difficult for him to make out the reading on his digital clock but after as much concentration as he could muster, Seto made it out to be 3:45am. Sleep called to him but he still had well over 950 sentences to go.
The self-pity wallowing inside of him was interrupted by faint sobbing. Normally, he would've assumed it to be Mokuba but these sobs were more feminine and they were coming from above him rather than the walls either side of him.
Overcome by his curiosity he ventured out of his room and searched for an extra staircase leading upwards to an attic maybe. . .
That's the first chapter so far! Now come on people, give me a reason to continue this story!