Disclaimer: Don't own YYH. And you might be wondering where this ever gets to YYH anyway. Well, I mention something in this chapter, but how they all meet I don't know meself, but I'll try to introduce it by chapter 5 or so. And my original idea was to make Yusuke her long lost brother, but I didn't want to overuse the idea. So, thanks to all my signed and unsigned reviewers! And want to hear a totally random fact? Kara looks exactly like me, except my hair is shorter and not tipped green.
Chapter 3: My Daddy DearestI swear time stops for me to process this horrifying moment – that awful screech of the metal leaving plaster.
In a kind of detached reality, I slowly take in the broken knob. Then I look at the door with its new hole.
How can this HAPPEN? Damn it, I KNEW that was going to happen, and I was too damn headstrong and stupid and rushed to remember!
And now it's damn too late.
Think.
Think.
I won't get the door open without a knob. It just won't happen. Even though there is a hole in the door now, the door is jammed. The only way that it could be open would be for someone stronger than me to bash it down.
But…and yet…it has to work. It is my only chance. I have no windows, except for the small window near the door that I was looking out of earlier, and there's no way I'll fit through there.
But I have more pressing matters to deal with. Because that ripping of the doorknob – so simple and effortless – has tripped off the hearing-sensitive alcohol berserker. In short – I'm dead unless I think of something fast.
Time unfreezes, and I fully accept my death. What can I do?
The bitter word hits me.
Nothing. The most awful word ever to be heard in a crisis like this.
My dad looks around, confused about the loud screech. Where did it come from, anyway? What made that loud noise? Should I kill it?
His red eyes, once blue, are rolling disgustingly, and a dribble of drool is sliding down his face. He continues to search for the noise.
My heart leaps. Maybe he just can't see me, and his ears don't allow him to hear properly!
I hear him snort, confused, like a horse.
It would make sense! I have better night vision than the average human, and of course all the liquors have probably dulled his senses. Why not? It's a hope, right?
Now all I have to do is avoid him until I think of an idea. I can hear him coming closer; that's my cue to move.
Bending down quietly, I place the detached doorknob on the floor, creating a noise that not even a mouse could hear.
Then, I start to edge around where I can hear his labored breathing.
A thousand thoughts chase through my mind.
Maybe I could just hide in a closet or something.
But what closet? Where can you hide in a trailer?
The bathroom?
NO! That would be trapping yourself if he barges in there.
No other rooms…
But that would mean that my only option is going outside! Which I can't do!
No. No. Think. There must be another way out.
No. I have no door!
Think outside the box!
No windows. No basement. No attic.
I hear the TV get smashed. It must be the TV, because that is the only sharp glass thing I own.
THINK! THINK! THINKTHINKTHINKTHINKTHINKTHINK…Now my pace is matching my thinking space. I'm flying through the trailer.
Nowindowsnobasementnoatticnohidingspotnowayout.
No way out…
Am I dead? Am I dead? Am I…wait.
Is taking the life of my attacker out the only option?
But…no. I can't handle hurting someone. I may be a fugitive, and a thief, a common criminal, as they say, but I cannot hurt things. I guess it's one of my weaknesses. I am too compassionate. I am not your typical hardened criminal, at least in my eyes.
But what other choice do I have?
It is my choice.
I set my mind grimly on ATTACK rather than ESCAPE mode. If it's my only option…
My conscience nags at me for the first time in a long time, actually this is the first time since the first time I started to steal, at eight years old. Do you really have a right to do this? Drunken bum or not, he is your father. Doesn't he have as much right to live as you do? Are you going to become a true murderer tonight?
"Shut up," I growl to myself. This proves to be a big mistake on my part. Dad hears it and moves closer in my general direction.
Am I really willing to do this to the only member of my family I have left, jerk he may be?
I hear the snorting come closer, and my thoughts are cut off. I have to move again. STOP THINKING, MORE MOVING!
I hear the snorting come literally right next to me. I jump away out of fear, and set off an instant chain reaction.
I trip over some of those dirty clothes that litter my floor, and with a slight screech fall backwards. My foot hits something soft, probably my dad's leg or something. When I hit, the force of my fall sends the floor of the trailer rolling and shaking, and it totally pinpoints where I am, not to mention the slight scream. Not even my dad could miss the opportunity.
I try to stand up, my mind running through options in frenzy-like speed, but my feet are way too entangled in this shirt. It's a spaghetti strap shirt, naturally, and the straps are like ropes. There's no way I can get up in time.
I'm so dead it's not even funny.
With a mad scuffling noise, my dad is upon me. More like he falls sideways and trips on yet another shirt, landing on top of me. He knocks all of the wind out of me, and I am temporarily left to suffocate.
But I guess it's a good thing that I have bony stick-out hips, and they drive into him like knives. He yells vaguely and sits up. I get a bubble of hope. Will he just run away? You can't predict how alcoholics will react.
The bubble bursts with my lungs as he whirls, flops, and holds me down with the crushing weight of his bulky body. He is now on his stomach, laying on top of little me. He starts to hit with fists with the strength of rage and confusion, and he hits everywhere. I seriously feel like all my bones are being cracked all at once.
I struggle pitifully. For me, it's really sad, the amount of damage I can cause.
Damn, he's strong. There's no way I'll be able to lug him off me. Even with my added adrenalin, which makes my muscles build up, I'm just too weak. If I was a martial arts master, then maybe, but as I am not…
Crack.
DAMN, THAT F-ING HURT! Did he seriously break my arm?
He's beating on me with every inch of beer in his bloodstream. He's trying to kill me.
My own father trying to kill me, imagine that.
He's really going to kill me. And the worst part is that he'll succeed.
Can I hurt him back?
Do I have the strength?
Do I have the guts?
Strength, definitely not. He's two hundred pounds heavier than me, and I am only 105. Dad was always pretty heavyset.
But do I…
Do I have the courage to defend myself?
I can feel a bruise blossoming on my arm, and probably more on my legs. I have never felt so beaten in my life.
My dad abruptly picks me up by the front of my shirt, like in the movies, and swings me up against the wall so that my feet leave the ground. I hear a bell ring as soon as I am slammed up. I hit my head and my shoulder blades hard.
Blinking stars and other spots out of my blue eyes, I realize vaguely that that was the doorbell ringing.
The doorbell…the thing in the door…
He is startled by the noise, and momentarily confused, but quickly recovers.
Now he's starting to choke me, holding me up against the wall. I can't really breathe at all.
I gasp and fight his killer grip.
But the doorbell…so near the door…so near freedom…and yet so far…I can feel the summer breeze blowing in on my undoubtedly mangled body…
But that breeze – the breeze reminds that I am still alive, and I get my battle spirit back. I kick him in the place that hurts most for men and he recoils, swinging around to slam his whole body on the broken door, doubled over.
Of course, he doesn't bust down the door, it only shakes and trembles under his weight. I hate my luck.
But the most important thing is that he has let go of my throat, and I can breathe again. I slide down the wall, gasping for my much-needed breath of air, and feel around on the ground, trying to ignore the pain of my right arm as it moves. It's my last weapon.
Yusuke In Spirit World:
"Are you absolutely, positively sure that this is the special one?" Asks Yusuke for the thousandth time, giving a derogatory look in Kara's direction.
"Yes," replies Koenma exasperatedly, signing papers at his desk.
Yusuke stares into the ball. It is a ball of ice that was made by Yukina, to watch any part of the world at any one time.
"It's just that…it's really dark in there…and I can already tell she fights like an barnacle with a brain tumor."
Kara:
My dad is quickly recovering. Now angry as well as intoxicated, I'm practically dead.
There it is! I can feel it!
I close my fingers around the cold hard metal object, feeling slight relief. If I can move my fingers, the arm isn't broken. But by the time my dad gets through with me, it probably will be.
My dad pounces on me again, trapping both my arms with his huge hands. So, I end up having to use my legs in a jiu-jitsu method that I learned from street fighting. You basically loop your legs around your opponent's waist, lock him, and pitch him over your head. With flimsy opponents, it can even snap necks. This technique was invented to work only when you are underneath your enemy, which, fortunately, is exactly what has happened here.
I perform the move. As he goes over, he grunts as his head hits the floor, but it doesn't affect him significantly. I weasel out from under the rest of him and stand over him. I don't have a second to lose. Any second he could snap right back up and beat me again.
I feel for his shoulder. It's a good thing he's kind of dazed. I have time to find the head.
I move my aching fingers up.
I feel that sparse hair. I grab onto the back of his neck like I would handle a rattlesnake, and push his face into the ground very hard, so that it hurts. If he can't see me, it'll slow him down and confuse him. These are the ingredients to a successful fight. Never give your opponent a chance. Always keep him off balance and reeling.
Now is my chance.
I raise my throbbing arm, gritting my teeth hard, both out of pain and mind-war.
Well?
What is wrong with you?
Do it.
I can feel him starting to struggle.
This asshole deserves it. It's him or you.
But can I really do this?
Yes, you can. Do it. DO IT!
"Argh."
That's the only sound I make. It's a little exhale. Nothing more.
I raise my arm higher without any further hesitation, and bring the doorknob I grabbed a second ago crashing down on his skull.
Once again, the world slows down.
Have I truly down the right thing?
Was this the right decision?
Should I have merely looked for ways to escape?
Back to regular motion…
I…I can hear something snap. Something that is not mine.
Is he…?
No. That's not right. He can't be dead. Right? Right? Right?
This isn't fair. No…
How could I have been so stupid?????
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A/N Review please! And she's gone to a whole new level. Bad, bad Kara. Now even trying murder! I won't say whether he lives or not. You'll just have to wait. And I don't know what's going to happen either. So don't ask.