Hey everyone! This is my first full fanfic! Hope y'all like it!!! And u c that lil purple button at the bottom? Don't forget to push it and write!!! I'm not exactly sure how long this story's going to be, but stay with me people! Don't forget I've got school, too!! I don't really have much else to say . . . I don't even think anyone is reading this . . . hehe ; )
Disclaimer: If I owned CCS, would I really be writing a fanfic? But in case anyone doesn't get it – I don't own CCS. Don't sue me.
Wrong number– Ch 1
"I wake up in the morning,
Put on my face.
The one that's gonna get me,
Through another day.
Doesn't really matter,
How I feel inside.
Life is like a game sometimes . . ."
Beep! Beep!
I groaned, rolled over, and shut my clock off. I didn't want to risk waking anyone up. Slowly, I eased off of my cot, trying not to hurt myself any more than needed. I cursed when I saw the gash that ran from my right shoulder to my elbow. I figured I was wearing another long-sleeved shirt. The night before had been especially hard. Sure there had been guests in the beginning, but that just meant that they were going to wait until they left before making me start my work, which ended up being harder than usual because of the mess all the drunk people had left. Meaning, of course, that I was, yet again, going to have to go to school after only five hours of sleep.
When I was done dressing, I surveyed myself in the mirror. Baggy black sweatshirt, baggy blue jeans. Hair down, hiding my neck. Nothing to draw attention to me, nothing that would get the only people keeping my brother alive in trouble. I was set.
I slipped quietly into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was nothing there that would feed three people. If I stretched it, it might barely feed two. I was going to go hungry. Again. I didn't care, though. I was finding it harder and harder to keep food down long anyway. I made them breakfast and was setting it on the table when I heard them stirring in their room. Long ago, I would have frozen in terror, but I have been through enough to know that the best thing to do is hurry up and get out of there as fast as possible, which I did. I made sure to grab the grocery list and money on my on the way out.
At least, what hadn't been spent on other "necessities".
I had to pull my hood up against the wind when I got outside. It was October and I was freezing. Then again, I had at least three miles to walk alone; I would warm up. I always did.
As always, when I caught sight of the school, I put a lazy smile on my face, knowing that I didn't have to worry about whether people would believe that my mask was really me. They always did.
"Hey Sakura!" My best friend, Tomoyo, bounded towards me, her dark hair rippling behind her. I have no idea how we became friends, but friends we are. Her violet eyes always seem to be sparkling with some hidden amusement, and her laugh is always ready, ready to make someone's day just a little brighter. She cares about what she wears, what she looks like.
I suppose I was like that once, but that's long gone. Now my green eyes are dull, unless I'm faking it, and my once silky auburn hair is just a mop of brown, but I don't care. As long as no one asks questions, I'm happy. I know how to act like everyone else, and everyone believes me. Sometimes, though, I wish that someone out there would realize that I'm just acting. That someone will take the time to see if I'm all right.
But who am I kidding? No one cares about me.
"How do you have so much energy in the morning?" I grumbled. I pretend that I'm not a morning person, it makes things easier when people know that I can be a crab in the morning. They stay away long enough for me to collect myself, then I can pretend to care about whatever they want for the rest of the day. That's just how it is.
She just rolled her eyes at me and started chatting away about God knows what. We walked into class together, and headed for our seats in the back. I immediately slumped into my chair, aware that my friends were trying to get my attention.
"If you really need to talk to me, you could get up and come to me," I suggested, looking up. I let a twinkle shine in my eye to let them know I wasn't really mad at them and I wouldn't try to kill them if they came closer. It was okay to let them come and ask questions. They hardly ever asked about my injuries, not since that day I'd had a brainstorm and told everyone that I frequently got into fights with various people that, conveniently (for me) did not go to our school. The only down side is that I accidently let it slip that I was fighting for a reason, and everyone decided that I was actually a hero that went around protecting people from the dangerous thugs in our town. Yeah, right.
First of all, there would have to be actual muggers in our town. But it makes them happy, so they leave me alone, and that makes me happy. It all works out.
So every day I sit there and pretend I'm pretending to scowl, so everyone can think I'm hiding behind it when they talk to me. But this only works in the morning. After lunch I am expected to actually socialize with people. So I pretend I'm having a good time with everyone, and sometimes, just for kicks, I'll start pretending to I'm pretending to feel something and doing a bad job of hiding it, because I'm really feeling something else, which is, of course, fake. I usually feeling either tired, or bored, never anything more.
Confusing, isn't it? You should try it. You see, I have this secret that no one can find out about. It's something that could destroy me. If some one found out, I would be ruined, and that's the one thing I am afraid of.
I know it's irrational. I would See it if someone found out. Wouldn't I?
"Sakura!" one of my friends (I should say, one of Tomoyo's friends) squealed when she reached my desk. Chiharu has never been one for subtleness. "Did you hear? There's been another kidnaping! And in the city right next to us!"
"Oh, don't scare her like that." Rika came up from behind and adjusted her book bag. "Nobody needs to hear something like that in the morning." I grunted my contribution to the conversation, then just sat back and allowed them to gossip their thoughts about the whole kidnaping business.
Quite frankly, I didn't care. Not that I didn't feel bad for the poor girls (who were probably dead by now, or worse), I really was worried, but I was simply too exhausted to do anything but look like I was half-dead. Which was how I felt.
Unfortunately, our teacher came in at that moment, and I was forced to sit up and look like I was paying attention.
I won't bore you with the details of class. It doesn't really matter- it's not like I ever listen or anything. Lunch was equally unimportant, the most exciting event was when Tomoyo tried to force me to eat something, just like everyday. I took the apple she offered just to shut her up. What really matters is what happened in P.E.
I was wearing the uniform sweats and my sweatshirt to make sure no one saw anything they shouldn't. We were playing dodge ball (which, in my opinion, is the stupidest game ever) when I was suddenly hit by one of those damn balls. As luck would have it, it had been thrown by a guy, and everyone knows how seriously they take the stupid game. Normally I would only end up with a red spot that would eventually go away, but my fabulous luck decided to come in and have the ball hit me in exactly the same place I had landed on when my so-called father had thrown me against our coffee table. The pain was making things go hazy, but I'm used to hiding pain from everyone else. I limped over to where the people that had gotten 'out' went. I never made it. No one noticed what was wrong with me, or maybe no one cared, but all I know is that one minute I was struggling to get to the other side of the field, and the next, the ground was rushing towards me at an alarming rate. I had time for one last conscious thought before I blacked out,
"I better not get any grass stains . . ."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
". . .don't know what happened . . ."
" . . .found just lying there . . ."
I knew those voices, but who were they? I found that I didn't really care. I was lying on something very soft and my leg no longer hurt. In fact, I could no longer feel it there. Why should I care?
" . . .tried calling her parents . . ."
That got my attention. My parents were dead, who were they talking about?
"Who?"
"Oh! Matsuki-san! You're awake! Good." Someone I recognized as the school nurse began bustling about, getting ice for my leg, and . . . a cookie? "Now, don't worry, we're getting you in touch with your parents as soon as we can." It suddenly dawned on me who they were talking about.
"NO!" I burst out, startling her, "I-I mean, I don't want to bother them. I can just go back to class." I smiled encouragingly, gritting my teeth against the pain that suddenly decided to make an appearance.
"Oh," she exclaimed, "but I'm sure they would want to know that we're going to have to take you to the hospital." Seeing my face, and completely misinterpreting it, she quickly added, "Don't worry, we'll explain everything later. You need to rest."
I could only stare dumbfounded at her. She was giving me a cookie, my leg felt like it was on fire, my "parents" were going to kill me when they found out that I had to go to the hospital, and she expected me lie back down and sleep?!?! It all seemed ridiculously funny, and I felt the strangest urge to burst out laughing. What was I going to say to the doctors? There was no way they would miss all my scars. I was pretty sure I had some minor fractures somewhere, too. Which reminded me. . .
What had happened to my leg, anyway?
I looked down. And nearly fainted again at what I saw. Somehow, when the ball hit my leg, it had opened a wound. Where I had been hit, in the thigh, my pant leg had been rolled up and many layers of gauze were wrapped around it. Already I could see traces of blood creeping their way through it all, but that wasn't the horrible part. My leg was bent in a way I was pretty sure wasn't healthy, considering the fact that bones aren't supposed to bend, and it was my femur that seemed to have gained some sort of a horrible new joint. My ankle was so swollen that it was roughly the size of my thigh. The thigh that was all bent out of shape.
So that's why it hurt so much.
As I was staring down at my disfigured leg, I reflected on what might have happened to me, had I not already been so close to death when that ball hit me. I was alone, I was comfortable, and I was probably brimming with pain killers. It was as good a time as any to take a very unwanted stroll down memory lane. This time, I didn't even need any water.
*~ 13 years ago*~
It was summer time, and the bright sun shone through the windows, warming everything it touched. It seemed like such a happy day, but it wasn't for one family. On a quiet street in Akita, Japan, a child was crying, her mother dying. The women, Nadeshiko was her name, was lying on her bed, her dark grey hair tumbling over the pillow. Her face was pale, her once-green eyes hidden behind her closed lids.
It was getting harder and harder for her to breathe, but she knew she must. It wouldn't do for her to die with only her three year old daughter in the house. Someone had to be there, so she could explain to them what Sakura had to do. What she had done.
But no one was there.
She was fading fast and she knew it, and in a desperate attempt to make sure that her child didn't have to go through what she did, she called Sakura to her side.
Immediately, a pair of inquisitive green eyes peered over the side of the bed, asking if anything was wrong.
" 'Kura, I want you . . . to . . . listen." Nadeshiko knew she could not waste any time. "Someday . . . people–" A shot rang out. She held her breath, fearing the worst. She looked down, expecting to see her daughter lying dead, but to her surprise, it had been she that the bullet had hit.
Sakura's eyes were wide at the sight of the flow of crimson coming from her mother's arm. Even more shocking was Nadeshiko's reaction.
She laughed.
"Come on." Suddenly, her voice was strong, fueled by her disgust. "I know you can do better than that. I thought I'd taught you better."
Looking around, three-year old Sakura was confused. No one was in the room. Who was she talking to?
Something inside of her tried to answer, but she pushed it away. At that moment, her mother was her top priority. There would be plenty of time later to figure it out. There would be people who could answer her questions.
She just had to make sure Nadeshiko Kinomoto would live.
She reached for her mother's hand, but something held her back. It seemed tangible, but nothing was there. She tried again. This time she was thrown against the wall. It seemed that whoever was keeping her away really meant it.
In the glass of water on her mother's bedside table, she saw something that horrified and fascinated her.
A head. He was handsome, terrifyingly so. He seemed so familiar . . . but she could not dwell upon it. Seeing him made her more afraid than she had ever been in her short life. She did the only thing she could do. With sudden determination, she ran forward, kissed her lifeless mother's forehead, and ran out of the room. When she passed the dresser, she hesitated, then snatched the pendant that Nadeshiko so cherished. She knew that man wanted it, and she knew he mustn't get it.
No matter what.
Clutching it in her tiny hand, she ran, now hearing maniacal laughter everywhere, mocking her. She burst out her front door, and sprinted as swiftly as she could down the street, which was pretty fast, considering her age.
Everywhere she turned, there was water. Children running through the sprinklers. Men washing their cars. Women watering their gardens. She longed to be laughing with them, but every time she glanced at them, she saw horrible things.
Images that would scar her for life.
She saw things that had happened so long ago that even the oldest of the oldest would not be able to recall even stories of the battles that she witnessed. They were so terrible that she nearly lost her footing many times, but the feeling that someone was after her pushed her on.
She knew not how long she ran, nor how far, all she knew was that she stumbled into the front yard of a grand estate, where she promptly collapsed, finally feeling safe.
*~*~*~*~
Four year old Sakura crying into her pillow because she still missed her family, even though she had been at the orphanage for many months.
*~*~*~*~
Five year old Sakura miserably bent over a toilet because that night's dinner had been especially bad and she couldn't stop throwing up.
*~*~*~*~
Six year old Sakura attempting to clean her many wounds with unsanitary water and cheap soap.
*~*~*~*~
Seven year old Sakura huddling in a broom closet, praying the older kids wouldn't find her there and begin their "fun".
*~*~*~*~
Eight year old Sakura scrubbing the floors on her knees with no protection from the strong detergent or the unforgiving floors.
*~*~*~*~
Nine year old Sakura learning that to survive is to defend yourself, maybe even to fight back.
*~*~*~*~
Ten year old Sakura trying to educate herself with the forbidden school books that had been smuggled in by a former "resident".
*~*~*~*~
Eleven year old Sakura defending the helpless children living beside her in that hell.
*~*~*~*~
Twelve year old Sakura lay on her bed, staring up at the crumbling ceiling, thinking about how much she hated the orphanage. Her "guardian", the food, the work, the older, bigger bullies, the building, the beds, everything. But she never cried. She didn't know how to cry anymore.
Her eyes softened at the thought of some of the younger children she had befriended to keep them out of harm's way.
Being their friend kept the bullies away from them, even if they came after her more. Knowing who the children were made it easier to take the Belt for them.
Sighing, she thought of the short months she had spent at the estate she had stumbled blindly into. The Hiiragizawa's had been kind, but they'd had a child of their own, and they had busy lives. They understood her in a way that was unfamiliar, but comforting. Most of their advice confused her, but she stored everything away in the depths her heart, knowing they never said anything without purpose.
Unfortunately, something had called them away to England and, because they'd never legally adopted her (when she'd asked why, they'd said that it wasn't meant to be), they were forced to leave her in an orphanage. Not just any orphanage, though. They had taken forever choosing the "right" one.
They hadn't informed her of this, though. She had seen it. Three times. Before it happened, while it happened, and after it had happened. She had refused to believe it until she was standing on the doorstep of her new "home".
At first, she had been hurt, but understood the reason, young as she was. But once the beatings started, once she was forced to work to earn her keep, she had hated them with a passion she didn't know she had.
After a while, she had forgiven them, remembering their kindness. One thing she still didn't understand, though, was why they had insisted on such a horrible orphanage. Deep down, she resented their lack of explanation, the absence of anything that proved they cared how she was doing.
And now she was going to be adopted. She had lit the fire that night, had seen them, had felt who they were. There was no avoiding it. She was leaving one hell for another, she suspected.
Getting up, she tip-toed to each of the beds in her wing, softly kissing "her" children on their foreheads, saying a soft good bye to each of them.
*~*~*~*~
Thirteen year old Sakura stared at the computer screen in shock. She knew it was forbidden to be on it, but she couldn't move. Her brother and father had- with a cry, she was thrown from her seat against the wall. She closed her eyes as the yelling started up again, the fist came down repeatedly, the foot kicked once more.
*~*~*~*~
Fourteen year old Sakura working in the garden, doing work that an older, stronger person should do. But she needed the money. Who knew what would happen to Touya if she stopped, she didn't know what would happen if she stopped earning her keep.
"Sakura!" Tomoyo stopped in front of her house, staring at her incredulously. "What are you doing?" For a second, she thought of telling her the truth, but she saw her "mother" glowering at her from the window.
Putting on a bright smile, she answered as cheerfully as she could, "Oh, I just felt like getting some fresh air and exercise. I figured that I might as well help my parents out while I was at it."
*~*~*~*~
Fifteen year old Sakura lay on the couch, staring at the fire. In it she saw, she felt, unbearable pain. The pain of betrayal. But she didn't need the fire to know that. Everyone she ever trusted had left her.
She gave up on whatever thoughts of love she'd ever had.
*~*~*~*~
I lay on the cot of my school's infirmary, shivering at the memories that pounded me ruthlessly. They were things I'd rather forget, but can't, thanks to my "gift". Unconsciously, I fingered the pendant I always wear. Wishing the world away, I closed my eyes, and a lone tear escaped, despite my efforts to banish them.
A/N: So? What d'ya think? Are you confused? I hope not. In case you are, here's basically what happened:
Sakura's mom was killed by a "mysterious force" ( can't tell what!), and she runs away from it. She stumbles upon the Hiiragizawa home, and they take her in (can't tell why!). They leave her at an orphanage where she is forced to work and is bullied. She isn't supposed to learn anything, but she finds a way. She gets adopted by people that force her to work and beat her. They pay her, but only a little bit.
I hope no one was confused by my change in POV, I thought it would be better if flashbacks were from a third person angle. Oh, and the part of the song at the beginning was from "Naked", by Avril Lavigne (I don't own that, either). Hope that helped! REVIEW!!!!!!! And please, no flames!