Don't ask. Just… please don't ask.
The glow from the computer screen on one side of the narrow room cast an eerie glow across the floor and opposite wall, making the white plaster gleam in the near-suffocating darkness. The luminous stretch of carpet was bare, save a few pens and wads of paper. In the far corner, untouched by the dim light, two young children huddled together, their fear hanging in the air like the coppery scent of blood.
Although the room itself was silent, there was noise elsewhere; things crashed to the floor, something heavy slammed into the wall, and someone cursed nearby. As the sounds grew louder, the children shrank further into the dubious shelter of the shadows. The smaller of the two whimpered quietly, and the other tried his best to soothe her without speaking.
The door handle jiggled, but did not turn; the boy had locked it when he'd closed the door to their illusionary refuge. After a moment, the sound of splintering wood filled the night as a foot slammed into the door again and again, battering it down.
The girl screamed when the tortured plank hit the floor, and the boy made no attempt to quiet her now; the giant silhouette filling the door had robbed him of the ability to move.
"There you are, you friggin brats!" The silhouette growled, lurching into the room and reaching for the girl.
She drew back for him, taking shelter behind the boy.
"Don't think that coward'll protect you, you little bitch." The silhouette moved further into the room, becoming a man with the same brown hair as the girl and the little boy's bright aqua eyes. "I'll rip him apart, too."
"P-please..." the boy whispered tremulously. "Please, Daddy, don't-"
The man backhanded the boy hard enough to knock him into the much-diminished light cast by the computer. The obstacle removed and now unimportant in his twisted mind, the man again reached for the girl, grabbing her small arm in a painfully tight grip and lifting her off the ground.
"Just like her..." He growled, breathing whiskey-laden breath on the terrified child. "Just like that slut..." He continued, slamming her against the wall and placing his other hand against her neck. "Got her eyes... her damned eyes..."
The boy, stunned momentarily, sat up as light from the hallway flashed on something in his father's hand; a kitchen knife.
"Stop looking at me!" The man bellowed, taking a wild swing at his daughter's face; at that range and angle, he couldn't have possibly missed.
Oblivious to the pain-riddled shrieks of the child in front of him and the sirens outside, he shifted his grip on the knife and lifted it above his head, positioned to thrust downward into her tiny body and tear through it.
From somewhere deep within him, the little boy found the strength to stand. Taking a running start, he launched himself at the man he'd loved all his short life, somehow attaching himself to the arm supporting the knife, and bit down with the ferocity of a wild animal.
The man's scream of rage and pain was accompanied by the sound of running feet on the stairs.
"- Mr. Bloom was found guilty of murder in the first degree, attempted murder in the first degree, aggravated assault, and assault with a deadly weapon. Interestingly enough, he was found not guilty of child abuse. Colony authorities here on X27-NL8 are pushing for the maximum sentence of life without possibility of parole. In local news-"
The pretty news lady flashed out of sight as the television went dark, and the group of young children clustered in front of the screen turned to Sister Helen, questions written all over their small faces.
"Sister Helen, why would that man want to kill his wife?" One of the boys asked quietly. "Aren't husbands supposed to love their wifes?"
"Wives, Jason," Sister Helen corrected him gently, kneeling and wrapping her arms around him. "wives. And that man had something wrong with his mind. He stopped loving his wife, I guess."
"Like my momma and daddy stopped loving me?" One of the girls piped up, wiggling under Sister Helen's arm and hugging the thin woman.
"Yes," Sister Helen agreed. "Almost exactly like that."
"What does 'life without poss'bility of parole' mean?" Another boy asked, trying his best to repeat what the news lady had said.
"That's enough questions, young ones." Father Maxwell, the old priest who ran the orphanage, said softly from the doorway. "It's almost time for evening Mass."
"Yes, Father!" The children chorused, scampering off to clean up or finish their daily chores.
"Father?" One of the smaller boys, one with a long chestnut braid and violet eyes, asked tentively, hesitating in the doorway.
"Yes, Duo?" Father Maxwell asked, readying himself to answer a difficult question. Duo was much, much older than any six-year-old had a right to be, and the questions he asked reflected it.
"Father, what's gonna happen to that man's kids? Will they go to an orphanage like this one?"
"I don't know, Duo." Father Maxwell said, looking down to avoid Duo's candid, penetrating gaze. "They may, or they might have relatives who will take them in,"
"I hope so," Duo said with a sigh. "Bein' an orphan's not very nice, even here."
"Duo!" A childish wail sounded from back near the bathrooms. "Jason won't let me use the sink!"
"Jason!" Duo yelled in exasperation, turning and running off to settle things down.
"No wonder the last couple sent him back." Sister Helen commented, a curious little smile playing across her lips. "He's so very wise..."
"Yes, he is." Father Maxwell agreed. "Perhaps too wise. Children his age are usually snatched up, but no one will take him in."
"I suppose," Sister Helen conceded, sighing. "But at least here, his wisdom and intellect are recognized and encouraged,"
"There is that."
"Careful, Cathy." Quatre warned, gently steering his younger sister away from the table she'd been about to walk into. "Your room's over here."
"Tanks." Cathy said, smiling in Quatre's general direction. At only five, Cathy still had trouble saying 'th' and 'sh,' pronouncing them 't' and 's.'
"It's okay." Quatre, at a mature six and a half, had no such trouble speaking clearly, if only because he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up, and doctors had to be able to talk clearly. "Here's the door." He took Cathy's tiny hand and guided it to the warm oak panels, then up to the brass doorknob.
Cathy turned the knob on her own and pushed the door inward. Step by careful step, she entered her new room, feeling the change from hardwood floor to carpeting through her socks.
"Did tey pick a good color?" She asked, keeping hold of Quatre with one hand and feeling the air in front of her with the other.
"They made it white and shiny yellow," Quatre told her truthfully, glad that their uncle had picked colors Cathy would like, even if she couldn't see them. "And there're unicorns all over it." He added.
"Unicorns?" Cathy repeated excitedly, perking up visibly. "Any stuffed ones? " She demanded.
"Lots!" Quatre said, leading her over to the giant white bed and handing her the biggest stuffed unicorn there. "And they're white and yellow, too!"
"His name's Mark." Cathy said decisively, hugging toy tight to her chest with one arm. "Mark Amos."
"There you two are!" A voice behind the two exclaimed, and noth children turned to look at the doorway, where their uncle stood.
Quatre liked Uncle Zechs. Uncle Zechs knew magic tricks, told funny stories, and could pick up Quatre and his sister with one arm each.
But Daddy could do that, too. He reminded himself, his elation at his new home dwindling.
"Hi, Uncle Sex!" Cathy exclaimed, smiling at a spot two feet or so off center, and Quatre's heart contracted painfully.
But Daddy hurt Cathy, and Uncle Zechs would never do that!
"Zechs, Catherine-dear." Uncle Zechs said with a laugh. "Not sex, Zechs. Zzzzechs."
"Zzzzechs." Cathy repeated brightly. "Zzechs."
"Right!" Zechs said, picking up both children. "And to celebrate, let's go eat lunch, shall we?"
"Yay!" Quatre shouted with Cathy, although his heart still hurt because he knew what Cathy looked like without the bandages over her eyes.
Daddy can't hurt Cathy again, though. Quatre thought firmly. Uncle Zechs and Aunt Lucy'll make sure he can't.
After only two months in a maximum-security prison, Arthur Bloom managed a daring escape. Eluding authorities for nearly a week, he made his way to his former brother-in-law's house, where he had discovered his children were living.
There, he killed his brother-in-law's wife, Lucrezia Noine-Merquise, and several guests at a dinner party they were hosting; Zechs Merquise himself was grievously wounded and survived only long enough to give his statement to the police and confirm that his niece and nephew were alive. By the time the police were able to subdue Bloom, he'd destroyed what little repair had been managed on his daughter's eyes and broken his son's arm.
Following his recapture, Bloom was incarcerated at a secure facility on XH7-36T in the L5 colony cluster. Shortly thereafter, he was killed in a brawl by his fellow inmate. Despite his death, however, his dark legacy stayed with his children, and it wasn't long before the only home they could find was the Maxwell Church.
Quatre looked up at the imposing face of the stone church, trying not to let it intimidate him. It wouldn't be the first orphanage he and his sister had stayed in, but it was the first one in a church.
Five homes since Uncle Zechs in as many months; in that short time, Quatre had become seven going on thirty. He had become very protective of his sister, and wouldn't hesitate to punch anyone who made fun of or bullied her because she couldn't see. In fact, that was why they kept being sent back to orphanages; someone always made fun of Cathy or made rude comments about her, and Quatre invariably beat them up.
"C'mon, Cathy," He said finally, guiding her towards the steps. "They've got wide stairs, so be careful, okay?"
Wide, curious eyes peeked out at the two from windows and doorways and from behind columns on the small porch; Quatre could feel them watching as Cathy worked her way slowly up the stairs.
When the two reached the porch, a nun and priest were there to greet them.
"You must be Catherine and Quatre," The nun said, kneeling in front of them and covering their hands with hers. "I'm Sister Helen, and this is Father Maxwell."
"Hello, Sister Helen," Cathy said with her usual warm smile. "Hello, Father Maxwell."
Quatre just looked at the two adults, not saying a word. They seemed okay from where he stood, but looks weren't everything.
Finally, he nodded a curt greeting, deciding he would give this place a chance.
It didn't take long for Quatre to get their meager belongings stored in the small room he'd be sharing with his sister; they only had a single suitcase each, not counting Mark Amos, Cathy's white and gold stuffed unicorn.
Quatre helped Cathy put sheets on her bed and settle Mark Amos, then they went down to the church proper to meet the other children.
There were only seven of them, three girls and four boys. The girls were named Janice, Chi, and Violette; the boys were Jason, Ash, Benjiman, and Duo.
Cathy smiled and introduced herself to each of the children in turn while Quatre stood behind her and glared at everyone.
"You do know you're looking at my shoulder, right?" Benjiman commented snidely, watching Quatre out of the corner of his eye. Benjiman had a few inches on the blond, and probably thought he could take Quatre.
Quatre accepted the implied invitation, growling and starting for the taller boy, but someone else beat him to it.
Duo, the boy with long brown hair, punched Benjiman square in the jaw, knocking the redhead off his feet with one hit.
"You- you hit me!" Benjiman exclaimed, feeling his face. "That hurt!"
"I bet it hurt Cathy, too, when you were making fun of her," Duo retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now apologize to her, or I'll hit you again!"
"I-I'm telling Father Maxwell!" Benjiman threatened, scrambling to his feet with one hand still on his bleeding jaw.
"I'll tell him myself if you don't apologize!"
"Tell who what?" Father Maxwell asked, appearing in a doorway as if by magic.
"Father Maxwell, Duo hit me!" Benjiman accused, running over to the priest and showing him the blood dripping down his chin. "He made me bleed!"
"Duo?"
"I hit him." Duo conceded defiantly, not in the least sorry or ashamed. "But only because he was making fun of Cathy!"
"Violence isn't always the answer, Duo," Father Maxwell said, sounding as if he only did so because it had become routine to him.
"Well, if I hadn't hit him, Quatre would've, and Ben might've hurt him. Either way, Ben was gonna get hit, so I figured I'd do it so Quatre wouldn't get in trouble." Duo explained rationally. "And I was gonna go give myself up as soon as he said he was sorry." He added defensively.
"Kitchen duty for a week, Duo," Father Maxwell sighed. "Benjiman, you have yard duty for the same."
"But-"
"I don't want to hear it, Benjiman. We do not belittle the misfortune of others; it is a sin, and will be punished as one. Are we clear?"
"Yes, Father Maxwell," Benjiman said sullenly, looking down at the floor.
"Good. Now it's time for lunch, so let us all go eat, shall we?"
Cathy's world was built almost entirely on sound. After more than half a year of complete darkness, she was finally adjusting. Her ears seemed to be taking up the majority of the slack left by her eyes, and not a mouse ran through the walls that she wasn't aware of.
So the conversation in the hallway that night was clear as a bell to her.
"-I'm just worried, is all," The sweet, musical voice of Sister Helen said softly. "After everything the poor boy has been through, it wouldn't surprise me in the least to see him lash out at others."
"So your head tells you, Helen, but listen to your heart." Father Maxwell's firm, comforting voice countered gently. "He only wants to protect his sister. If I were him, I would react the same. It's really Benjiman's fault; I'm almost positive he was trying to provoke Quatre."
"Still, Father, I'm uncomfortable with this. It's like we're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks. I feel as if the whole situation could blow up in our faces at any moment."
"Things are ever thus with young boys," Father Maxwell said, and the two moved beyond her hearing, their voices blending into a soft lullaby that pulled her down into sleep.
Duo was wandering the churchyard, absently kicking a rubber ball in front of him and chasing it, when a small sound caught his ear.
Leavingthe ball where it was, he followed the sound to a sizable clump of bushes growing up against the church itself. Someone was curled up in the hollow, crying. Duo wiggled his way inside to discover it was the new kid, Quatre.
"Hey, you okay?" Duo asked, patting the blond on the shoulder.
"G'way." Quatre ordered, sniffing.
"Why?"
"Cause I wanna be alone."
"Why?"
"Cause I'm cursed."
"How?"
"Why d'you care?"
"Cause I wanna be friends,"
"Y-you do?" Quatre asked, blinking owlishly around his tears at Duo.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"
"B-because I'm cursed. Everyone who's nice to me dies, so Sister Helen and Father Maxwell are gonna die, and probably you too, since you wanna be friends."
"Well, I'm gonna take my chances, cause God's nice to people who are nice to others." Duo informed him. "At least, that's what Father Maxwell says."
"Then why did God let Daddy kill Mommy?" Quatre demanded. "And Uncle Zechs, and Aunt Lucy, and Uncle Trieze, and Lady Une, and all the other people at the party?"
"I don't know," Duo answered solemnly, looking Quatre right in the eye. "God does what God does, and we shouldn't try to figure out why. He knows what He's doing, and that's supposed to be good enough for us."
"But..." Quatre protested, trailing off when he could think of nothing to say. "I guess that makes sense..."
"Yeah. So, you wanna be friends?" Duo asked, extending his hand with an impish grin
"O-okay." Quatre agreed, offering his own hand.
The two shook on it, then crawled out of the bushes and went off in search of something to do.
And that's a wrap, folks! Take a break, leave a review, and we'll move on to the next chapter! No reviews, no chapter, and I mean it this time! Rawr!