Disclaimer: Roses are red, blood is too. If you don't shut up I will kill you. (^_^; Stolen from Silver Draggon.)



Chapter 3:





Why must all of this happen to me anyway?' Inuyasha thought bitterly after his most recent beating. Because you're a fucking dumbass, that's why.' His father had gotten drunk, and came home in a rage, where he proceeded to beat the living hell out of Inuyasha. He had walked in the door calmly, almost as if he had just woken up from an afternoon nap, but as soon as he saw Inuyasha pitifully attempting to scrub his blood off the walls from the previous beating before his father saw him, he flew into a wild rage, picking up a large glass beer bottle (still half full of beer), and proceeding to strike Inuyasha over his head with it repeatedly, adding pain, bruises, and more color to the walls. The horrible beating continued for nearly an hour and a half. None of the neighbors could hear Inuyasha's screams of agony, as it was nearly 2:00 A.M. when his father had gotten home.

His father finished beating Inuyasha with the beer bottle, which was now reduced to shards of broken glass. The beer which was contained in the beer bottle was soaking Inuyasha's hair, along with the teenager's blood. Sneering at the broken bottle, Inuyasha's father tossed it over his shoulder at the wall. Inuyasha, who had been on his knees over the dark blue carpet of the room, flinched as the glass shattered into more tiny pieces, all waiting for him to pick them all up.

Inuyasha's father shouted. Remember who the fuck is taking care of your pitiful excuse for a life form! Hazaki Falong(1)! You best remember that.

Spitting on his silver-haired son as a dirty replacement for the words good night, Hazaki sauntered out of the blood-stained room, gagging out a discusted behind his back as he went.

Blacking out had always been Inuyasha's rare respite, but Hazaki had never been a merciful father. He once attached a giant slab of ice to Inuyasha's back, giving him frostbite and keeping him awake the whole beating, which was all about fire. Or he swung him round in circles until Inuyasha's mind was too dizzy to think. Or he hung up the teenager by his hair, hanging from the ceiling by a very thick, itchy rope.

Hazaki Falong had always been rather creative.

Anyway, this, once again, was not one of those rare, beautiful times. Even though the beating was relatively it was still bundled in pain, harshness, and giftwrapped in cleaning, with a pretty blood bow on top.

Sighing, Inuyasha slowly raised his hand with long fingernails. One thing people were jealous of on him was his gourgeous nails (OMG! How do you even manage to get those that long and keep them that way?! Squeal.). Gently weaving his nimble fingers into his silver locks of hair, Inuyasha felt many marred places in his scalp and on his neck, bleeding freely. The flesh had been ripped from its stitchings, and dead skin that failed to disconnect itself from the body was mixing with the fresh, wet blood; the beginnings of a scab. His silver hair was stained a pinkish color, turning a deeper hue of red every minute. When Inuyasha withdrew his hand after inspecting his damaged skull, he noticed an odd design on his palm. Two strands of his silvery hair had come loose, twirling themselves about his fingers with the sticky blood attatched to it, following its trail like wolfhounds tracking a fox.

It was an eye. Not a circle, not a square, but a sharp oval shape, with no pupil; sketchy in appearence.

Knowing bad luck when he saw it, Inuyasha's eyes widened as he remembered one of the very few fond memeories of his.

Inuyasha? Inuyasha, where are you?

A silver-haired youth poked his head out from underneath a prickly bush. Golden eyes flashed playfully at the flying birds and the chittering squirrels looking at him in curiousity. Yes, Grams? he called.

Time to go!

Pouting slightly with a furrowed brow, Inuyasha jumped out from the bush, the leaves clinging to his soft hair as he went. He waved to the animals of the small forest, who, strangely, waved back. Inuyasha sprinted the small way to his grandmother, who stood there like a magestic queen in a gray silk dress, cut plainly and simply at her ankles.



Jumping into a hug, Inuyasha grinned at his gaurdian. His parents were as declared by the police force of New York City, where he used to live. His mother and father were at the scene of a shooting in the Bronx's backstreets. No one knows who had the gun, or who shot it. In any case, Inuyasha was sent to live with his grandmother, over 100 leages away in England.

Smiling at her grandson's antics, Anastasia Tait(2) curled her thin arms around the smaller form that was her charge, and squeezed him. I love you, my little wolf, she said, nuzzling his hair with her cheek.

Love you, too, Grams, Inuyasha replied, nuzzling the junction where the neck met shoulder.

Noticing the black mark on the top of her grandson's foot, Anastasia quickly set Inuyasha down and inspected it. The black mark was made by two twigs, almost looking like paintbrushes, into a pupil-less, sharp oval. An eye.

Quickly, my love, she said. It's a bad omen. Put your hands together, she folded back all of her fingers except her index finger and her thumb, like this. Inuyasha did so.

Now, place them together-- that's right!-- and let me say the chant. Inuyasha, with his index and thumbs pressed together into the shape of a teardrop, looked up at her curiously.

Evil is like a slug, so it can hop your pockets and mug. Chop the finger; don't let it linger, and mop up the teardrop (3).

And with that, Anastasia thrusted her hand vertically through Inuyasha's teardropped shaped fingers, breaking the small curse.

she exclaimed. Much better. Now, Love, you ready to go home?

Inuyasha folded his arms accross his small chest, biting his lower lip and scrunching up his eyebrows. He hated to displease his grandmother, since she was the only family he had ever known.

Anastasia looked dubiously at her grandson. You don't have to lie, silly. We can still stay, y'know. It's not the end of the world if we eat outside, looking at the sunset... Oh! That's it-- we're staying. An evening picnic... Lovely.

Inuyasha, in his youth, had an incredible smile. He could brighten the lonliest man in the world's day simply by smiling. His cheery attitude brightened the atmoshpere, no matter how dank and dark it may have been. It was one of his best traits.

He gave one of these said smiles to Anastasia.

Gor! You rascal. Nobody can elude those smiles of yours! Anastasia exclaimed. It's like rubies are melded into your lips; the finest jem in the world!

Aww, Grams, you know the best sparkly in the world's sapphire! Inuyasha argued.

Shush, you, and go play, before I change my mind.

Inuyasha quieted, though reluctantly. He hated making his Grams angry, but he hated to lose, too. And he didn't want to go. He jumped up into the treetops, settling himself comfortably on a large, fat branch, before turning to his grandmother to wave.

She waved back to the enthusiastic Inuyasha, smiling softly at his antics of hopping on the tree in excitement. He bounded off into the deeper part of the small forest they were staying in.

Anastasia shook her head. The youth is so wasted on the young...

 Two wet droplets escaped his golden, shimmering eyes. They trailed down his cheeks, leaving small rivers in their wake. Inuyasha clenched his eyes, drawing them tightly closed with the memory of his grandmother.

Because that's what it was: a memory. She was dead; died long ago. And with her passing, Inuyasha died. Anastasia was his life. She was the only being he'd ever loved. Ever.

Getting a hold on himself, Inuyasha angrilly wiped the two tears away. He had work to do. And he never cried.

Hoisting himself up with a quiet grunt, Inuyasha glanced around, his once ruby-lined lips turning into a deep frown. The walls were crimson; they were origionally white. His head throbbed more than usual, and the glass table-top was snapped in half.

Damn.'

Knowing that the walls and the table were first, Inuyasha slowly made his way to the cubbard under the sink, where the superglue was housed.

Fucking pig. Sits on the table, surprised it didn't shatter into pieces like the beer bottle did under his fat ass.'

Inuyasha's thoughts trailed off as he noticed the time, and as he remembered the broken bottle of booze he still had to clean up.

It was 5:48 A.M..

Inuyasha stood there, his mouth open slightly, hating the irony of it all. He'd never get everything done in time and get himself cleaned up for school. If he stayed home, his father would most likely send him to white-walled bliss (hospital).

Like hell he was staying home. He'd enjoy his last day in life... at school.

He snorted as he gathered his school bag and all of his heavy books softly, silently, thinking if his Grams had never died he never woud've ever thought that school would be considered a blessing. Now, it was his heaven; his Heaven away from his Hell.

And his Hell was his life.

~*~

(1) - Inuyasha's father. Hey, we had to give him some kinda name, ne? Oh! And this father IS--NOT the one portraed in the real story. Yeah. Like this guy would give him a sword, right?
(2) - TAIT(S) brisk, cheery Olde English name and its meaning.
(3) - Yes, I (Silver Draggon) made that up. Sucks, huh? I tried to make it rhyme but... I dunno. What do you guys think?

 I, again, must apologize for the incredible shortness. I was honestly going to make this about ten or twelve pages long, but I had a writer's block. Fuzzy wasn't really helping, either (I mean, with Ooble, I'm gonna kick so much ass. I mean, he's gonna be so friggin fast!) Le sigh.

^_^ Please review. We authors and authoresses live for the critisism and love, and if anyone out there is an author/authoress, you should know how we feel.