Silver Side Up

By YashamonMaster

Inspired by Nickelback

Chapter One: Never Again

DISCLAIMER: Digimon is owned by Toei and Bandai, and whoever else owns it at this point. Silver Side Up and all song titles are property of Nickelback. Nickelback is property of Roadrunner Records.

A/N: This is my darkest work ever, I think, and deals with issues like murder, spousal abuse, rape, and other very nasty things. It contains strong language, violence, adult content, and sexual situations. It is also anti-Sorato, anti-Yamato/Matt, and contains negative representations of Sora. If you are opposed to or cannot read any of this material, do not read this fic. Thank you.

Yamato Ishida stumbled into his home, drunk and angry. Ever since the Mars project (why the Hell did Toei have Yamato become an Astronaut?) had ended, he had been mostly without work and spent most of his time in a bar.

Once handsome, the former teen-dream rock-star was now an unshaven, slightly overweight man in his late forties. His blonde hair was now short, and was streaked with veins of gray. He was clad in a checkered shirt, unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves. His pants were stained blue jeans, worn from wear.

"Sora!" he yelled, words slurred by alcohol. "Sora, where are ya?"

Sora Takenouch-Ishida stepped cautiously out of the kitchen, where she had been cleaning dishes. She was wearing a faded blue dress, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. Lines creased her pretty face, showing age and worry. Once vibrant and fiery, her eyes were dull and had lost their luster.

"Yes, Yamato?" she asked, voice soft and nervous.

"Where'sh my dinner," he slurred. He glared with blood-shot eyes.

"I...I'm sorry, Yamato," she stammered. "But I've already cleaned up..."

"Whaddaya mean!" he bellowed.

Instantly, he had approached upon her. One large, calloused hand gripped the front of her dress, pulling her so close she could smell the acrid stench of cheep booze on his breath.

"I...I'm sorry...I didn't know how late you'd be out and-"

Her words were cut off by a sharp slap. Yamato's hand had flown out and smacked her cheek, backhanding her.

"You know what happens when dis happens, dontcha, Sora?" Yamato growled. "You know I hate havin ta do dis, but ya leave me no choice."

The first time he hit her, Sora's eyes filled with tears. Now, she remained calm and dry-eyed, having learned that crying only made it worse.

"Now, what are ya gonna do tomorrow night?" he hissed.

"Leave dinner out for you," she mumbled.

"What?" Yamato barked.

"I said, leave dinner out for you." She had raised her voice so he could hear.

"Good. Now, how do I know you'll remember?" said Yamato, an ugly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I...I don't know," Sora stammered.

"I know how," Yamato said.

His tone was warm, and he patted her gently on the cheek a few times. Then he pulled his hand back and plowed his fist into her cheek, letting go of her dress. She crumpled to the floor. The drunk leaned down and picked her up, making her look at him. Bloodshot blue met dull crimson.

"Now, make sure dat never happens again, alright?" growled Yamato.

Sora nodded weakly, desperately trying not to cry.

"Good," Yamato said. He grinned, showing yellow, ugly teeth. "Now give your hubby a welcome home kiss."

Sora managed to hide her disgust and pecked Yamato on the lips. Before she could pull away, the drunk had gripped the back of her head and forced her lips apart, opening her mouth. His wet mouth moved hungrily against hers. She tried pushing him away, but he put his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer. He stopped assaulting her jaws long enough to whisper in her ear.

"You can't get away that easily, dear. It's time for a fuck."

"Yamato, no," she moaned.

"You're supposed to say yes, you stupid bitch," he spat.

Letting her go quickly, he backhanded her again, causing her to stumble against the stained old couch in the living room.

"Now take it like the slut you are," he snarled.

In one quick, harsh motion he grabbed her collar again. This time, however, he tore down, ripping the dress open, revealing Sora's chest.

"Yamato stop!" she screamed.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Yamato bellowed in response.

For the fourth time that night, the drunk struck her, smashing her in the chin with his hammy fist. As she fell to the ground, her dress rode up, revealing Yamato the tantalizing view of her underwear.

"Now I'll try to make this as good for you as it is for me," he said, taking on a soft, dangerous tone.

Sora could only sob as she was violated by the man she called husband.

A/N: God, I made myself kind of sick writing that. Please, Yamato fans, don't hate me. I had to do it for the story. And Sora fans, don't hate me either.