This is a super-special extra long chapter so I could get in all the ideas I wanted. Enjoy.
Chapter 2
The stars shone dimly above Domino City, and far below, nestled among the lights of apartment buildings and all-night coffee houses and executive work-a-holic companies, there was a small house, the garden walk neatly trimmed, the streetlamps glowing softly, the shades drawn and the windows quiet. But deep inside, in the bedroom on the left landing, under the soft yellow desk lamp, sat Fear, wide awake, and refusing to let its victim sleep.
Late that night, after every one had gone home, even a protesting Kaiba, Toria went through her old photo albums. The photo albums she had had as a kid, in New York City when she was Cassandra Shinatashi, Japanese-English American girl. She had been a normal girl, fresh from England, where she had spent the first five years of life. She had gone to the best private school in town, St. Angelica's, dressing in her sailor uniform of blue and gold that matched her friends' and clashed horribly with her hair. She flipped through a page to her first day of school picture. She was five years old, cute and tiny, in her sailor suit, clutching Marley's predecessor, a black cat named Tabitha, with a huge gold and blue striped bow rammed on her head. A finger nipped into the corner of the picture, blocking a portion of lens.
The finger on the lens. That was how her parents always appeared in photographs. A fragmented elbow, a blurred hairstyle, or the thumb blocking out a painting on the wall. Her mother, Lillith Shinatashi, an English girl with big dreams, a small wallet, and a cheating mind married her father, Cole Shinatashi, a first generation Japanese-American man with ambition, a small fortune, and the perfect scheme.
They had never been around much. The few photos that she did have weren't usually taken by either Mr. or Mrs. They were usually taken by the sympathetic neighbor, the strange aunt, or more than likely, her friends' mothers. The first day of school picture was one of the pictures Lillith has actually taken. Her mother had expected her to enter into the 'Little Miss' pageant with the photo.
Still, it wasn't that bad in New York. They had a classy apartment in a good neighborhood, she had a few close friends, and she was close to being happy. That was, until she turned seven.
She turned to a picture of Lillith and Cole, looking pleased with themselves. Her mother was small and petite as well, with maliciously conniving green eyes and short, fashion-model blonde hair. Her father, Cole, was exactly the opposite, tall and imposing, with a gigantic neck and legs like tree trunks. He had a short Hitler mustache, heavy eyebrows, and a come-over he tried to disguise with spray-on. He laughed vigorously, as though trying to shake the earth, but it was always fake. And when he grinned, you could see his capped teeth, too white to be anything but plastic.
Her father. She shivered, and closed the book with a dull thud. Marley glared at her from her pleasant spot on the computer chair, shooting green- eyed daggers. Toria ignored her and pulled her knees to her chest, leaning her back against her twin bed's headboard. She closed her eyes tightly and wished the Goddess hadn't made humans with memories.
Her father had been arrested for embezzling large amounts of money from his friend's company when she was almost eight years old. But the worst thing he had ever done was never really known. She had never told anyone, not a diary, not her adopted father, not Kaiba, not even Marley. But for almost year, she had been living in a private hell, forever trying to defend herself as much as her small mind and smaller muscles had allowed.
Her mother had been on vacation in England, visiting her ten-year prep school reunion, a place called Holy Sisters of Jesus. Her father, miraculously, had been home, working, as usual, with what he called 'Daddy's homework.' (She didn't find out until later this was his way of hacking into his friend's system to steal his money, cent by cent.) After playing tea-party with her dolls and Tabitha, and then crept into bed and turned out the light.
She awoke, rather groggily, a few hours later. It was dark, but the bed was unusually warm. She heard the springs jangle. And then it began.
She pretended to be asleep while her father did things that felt hideous and made her feel like vomiting. Thick, sticky substances spewed into the bed. Her heart hammered as she tried to breathe quietly. And after an hour, he left.
She wished that was the end. She wished that this had never happened. But for almost a year, while her mother went on extended vacations and her father embezzled millions of dollars, it got worse.
Soon he no longer hid what he did. Every day, after school, first alone. Then with a photographer. And then with three or four friends. Blood, sperm, and tears smeared all over his face as cold, drunken laughter filled her ears.
"If you ever tell, I'll kill Tabitha and spill her blood on your grave."
His laughed echoed in her ears as she jerked her mind out of the archives, out of files she had sworn to lock with an unknown password. She looked down to see her hands shaking rapidly, her heart pounding, sweat beading on her forehead.
She stumbled downstairs, hoping for a glass of water, trying to repeat to herself that it was all over. Her hands shook as she tried to turn on the tap, as she dropped the wet mug in the sink with a clatter of ceramic on metal.
Looking for both a safe hiding place and trying to run at the same time, she staggered into the cool night air, reaching for her leather jacket and helmet. Only barely seeing past her purple Plexiglas visor into the dark night, she revved the engine, a scream of her own past haunting her. And with as much ferocity as she could muster, she sped into the streets, trying to drive away from the screams that were always with her.
Kaiba looked over at his clock. Two in the morning. He sipped his coffee, ignoring all ideas of sleep. Unless he finished this company statement by tomorrow, DuelDiscs would have to wait another three months before being released. He swallowed the hot burning ash, trying to keep his mind on his work.
It was impossible. How could he work when his girlfriend, the girl he loved most in the world, was home alone, locked in with her fears, from a father she had hoped to be rid of forever? What had Shinatashi done to Toria, all those years before, that would still make her freeze, cold as an ice statue, lost in a world where Fear reigned? Maybe if he could see what kind of dirt there was on Toria's real father...He dragged his cursor to the search engine on his laptop, typing 'Cole Shinatashi.' Enter.
The page with his search results was loading when he heard the muted roar of a motorcycle and bang of the mansion's front double doors. Instantly, he rose from his leather executive's chair and strode to the stairs, leaving the computer blinking ominously:
'Cole Shinatashi, arrested October 24, 1994, for embezzlement from Industrial Illusions Inc.'
Chapter 2
The stars shone dimly above Domino City, and far below, nestled among the lights of apartment buildings and all-night coffee houses and executive work-a-holic companies, there was a small house, the garden walk neatly trimmed, the streetlamps glowing softly, the shades drawn and the windows quiet. But deep inside, in the bedroom on the left landing, under the soft yellow desk lamp, sat Fear, wide awake, and refusing to let its victim sleep.
Late that night, after every one had gone home, even a protesting Kaiba, Toria went through her old photo albums. The photo albums she had had as a kid, in New York City when she was Cassandra Shinatashi, Japanese-English American girl. She had been a normal girl, fresh from England, where she had spent the first five years of life. She had gone to the best private school in town, St. Angelica's, dressing in her sailor uniform of blue and gold that matched her friends' and clashed horribly with her hair. She flipped through a page to her first day of school picture. She was five years old, cute and tiny, in her sailor suit, clutching Marley's predecessor, a black cat named Tabitha, with a huge gold and blue striped bow rammed on her head. A finger nipped into the corner of the picture, blocking a portion of lens.
The finger on the lens. That was how her parents always appeared in photographs. A fragmented elbow, a blurred hairstyle, or the thumb blocking out a painting on the wall. Her mother, Lillith Shinatashi, an English girl with big dreams, a small wallet, and a cheating mind married her father, Cole Shinatashi, a first generation Japanese-American man with ambition, a small fortune, and the perfect scheme.
They had never been around much. The few photos that she did have weren't usually taken by either Mr. or Mrs. They were usually taken by the sympathetic neighbor, the strange aunt, or more than likely, her friends' mothers. The first day of school picture was one of the pictures Lillith has actually taken. Her mother had expected her to enter into the 'Little Miss' pageant with the photo.
Still, it wasn't that bad in New York. They had a classy apartment in a good neighborhood, she had a few close friends, and she was close to being happy. That was, until she turned seven.
She turned to a picture of Lillith and Cole, looking pleased with themselves. Her mother was small and petite as well, with maliciously conniving green eyes and short, fashion-model blonde hair. Her father, Cole, was exactly the opposite, tall and imposing, with a gigantic neck and legs like tree trunks. He had a short Hitler mustache, heavy eyebrows, and a come-over he tried to disguise with spray-on. He laughed vigorously, as though trying to shake the earth, but it was always fake. And when he grinned, you could see his capped teeth, too white to be anything but plastic.
Her father. She shivered, and closed the book with a dull thud. Marley glared at her from her pleasant spot on the computer chair, shooting green- eyed daggers. Toria ignored her and pulled her knees to her chest, leaning her back against her twin bed's headboard. She closed her eyes tightly and wished the Goddess hadn't made humans with memories.
Her father had been arrested for embezzling large amounts of money from his friend's company when she was almost eight years old. But the worst thing he had ever done was never really known. She had never told anyone, not a diary, not her adopted father, not Kaiba, not even Marley. But for almost year, she had been living in a private hell, forever trying to defend herself as much as her small mind and smaller muscles had allowed.
Her mother had been on vacation in England, visiting her ten-year prep school reunion, a place called Holy Sisters of Jesus. Her father, miraculously, had been home, working, as usual, with what he called 'Daddy's homework.' (She didn't find out until later this was his way of hacking into his friend's system to steal his money, cent by cent.) After playing tea-party with her dolls and Tabitha, and then crept into bed and turned out the light.
She awoke, rather groggily, a few hours later. It was dark, but the bed was unusually warm. She heard the springs jangle. And then it began.
She pretended to be asleep while her father did things that felt hideous and made her feel like vomiting. Thick, sticky substances spewed into the bed. Her heart hammered as she tried to breathe quietly. And after an hour, he left.
She wished that was the end. She wished that this had never happened. But for almost a year, while her mother went on extended vacations and her father embezzled millions of dollars, it got worse.
Soon he no longer hid what he did. Every day, after school, first alone. Then with a photographer. And then with three or four friends. Blood, sperm, and tears smeared all over his face as cold, drunken laughter filled her ears.
"If you ever tell, I'll kill Tabitha and spill her blood on your grave."
His laughed echoed in her ears as she jerked her mind out of the archives, out of files she had sworn to lock with an unknown password. She looked down to see her hands shaking rapidly, her heart pounding, sweat beading on her forehead.
She stumbled downstairs, hoping for a glass of water, trying to repeat to herself that it was all over. Her hands shook as she tried to turn on the tap, as she dropped the wet mug in the sink with a clatter of ceramic on metal.
Looking for both a safe hiding place and trying to run at the same time, she staggered into the cool night air, reaching for her leather jacket and helmet. Only barely seeing past her purple Plexiglas visor into the dark night, she revved the engine, a scream of her own past haunting her. And with as much ferocity as she could muster, she sped into the streets, trying to drive away from the screams that were always with her.
Kaiba looked over at his clock. Two in the morning. He sipped his coffee, ignoring all ideas of sleep. Unless he finished this company statement by tomorrow, DuelDiscs would have to wait another three months before being released. He swallowed the hot burning ash, trying to keep his mind on his work.
It was impossible. How could he work when his girlfriend, the girl he loved most in the world, was home alone, locked in with her fears, from a father she had hoped to be rid of forever? What had Shinatashi done to Toria, all those years before, that would still make her freeze, cold as an ice statue, lost in a world where Fear reigned? Maybe if he could see what kind of dirt there was on Toria's real father...He dragged his cursor to the search engine on his laptop, typing 'Cole Shinatashi.' Enter.
The page with his search results was loading when he heard the muted roar of a motorcycle and bang of the mansion's front double doors. Instantly, he rose from his leather executive's chair and strode to the stairs, leaving the computer blinking ominously:
'Cole Shinatashi, arrested October 24, 1994, for embezzlement from Industrial Illusions Inc.'