Heero's eyes opened as he looked up at the slightly stained white ceiling. He heard commotion in his mother's bedroom but decided not to interfere, so many times his mother's boyfriend came home drunk with her, even more than her at times.

He had such a dead life, so far away from the world, underground at times where the sun couldn't reach him in his depressed state. Odin had trained him and he didn't care, life had been cruel to him.

"Boy!" The drunkard hollered to the smaller boy, not as defenseless as he, his mother's boyfriend, thought at first. "Get yer ass o'er here!" He slurred words together, laughing mirthlessly.

'Damn him.' Heero's mind said blankly, putting no thought or force behind the words. He laughed inside, not happiness behind his inner thoughts, or dark thoughts either. He didn't care, that's what made him laugh. Exactly what made him useful to Odin.

"Yes, father?" He stretched the word to a certain extent. It seems to psychologically twisted mind of his foster father prevailed to no avail to think of ways to make himself have more power, more control.

"I already told yer, sit yer ass down der!" He said, letting his loosely balled fists impact on the pale figure's body sharply, the alcohol still flowing rapidly through his system, intoxicating him.

He swept his hand down and grabbed an unopened can of beer and popped it open with slightly swaying body movement. He pushed the boy down onto the floor, the opened and scattered items on the floor seeming to swallow him, he quickly took his hands away from the mess of pills and needles scattered and no longer 'sterile' as the dealers claimed them to be.

He backed against the wall as he witnessed the harsh abuse of his mother before he blinked and drew himself deep into his mind, far away from this place. He did wonder what it would be like to be a victim of Odins, a quick and painless death. He had seen a knife thrown at someone's heart, a traitor of Odins and he saw the relief flood the victim's features as they crumbled into a pool of their own blood, a smile still on his face. He had wondered what it felt like…

He heard it again, the smashing of glass. This was the reason why his mother beat him sometimes, though it was coming more often. Abuse, it was like a disease that passed through his mother's boyfriend to him. It was triggered by emotions; he got rid of them. He didn't care. Not anymore, he wanted to be alone.

The shadow that stayed in his mind of his father, his real father before he left his drug-addicted mother, stayed with him bringing the sorrow of being abandoned with the soul embodying his mother.

Heero looked up with weary eyes to look at the crying figure of his mother. She was clutching her head; blood stringing like her hair which was tangled all around her like a tangled mass of straw, drenched in blood. She had torn some out of her scalp to try and ease the pain. His giant 'father' stood over her and held a smashed bottle of whiskey in his hand, glaring at her.

"How DARE you decide all the sudden to make meatloaf when today is Tuesday! What is Tuesday?!" He bellowed at her while lifting her by the hair.

She choked out an answer to him; "Tuesday is Salisbury steak night." She yelped as he dropped her, kicking her sharply in the side like he would to a lame hound.

He turned sharply on his heel away from her huddled form and then glared at Heero who was sitting rigid now since he first turned to look at the smaller boy.

He took out his lighter and lit up a cigarette. "Well, boy?" He growled as if a animal had stepped into his territory. Heero inhaled sharply, swallowing and fighting back the bile that was creeping into his esophagus. He shook his head sharply.

The man smiled, the darkness of the room making his face even more demented by the light of the burning tobacco as some tar slipped and stained the carpet. "Is that so?" He exhaled, smoke swirling around Heero's face as he blinked but dared not look away. He felt a hand grip his face.

He opened his eyes slowly and fearfully.

"Are you so sure of yourself?" The man questioned as the cigarettes lit end moved closer and closer to him. Heero pushed himself back into the plush cushions and looked into the man's cold eyes. He nodded again, slower and unsure of his answer. Yes if he was doomed and no if he was damned.

"Well," The burly man said to his child. He took it out of his mouth easily and edged closer to the boy, using his hands to hold the squirming boy still as the cigarettes end moved closer to his skin, making it tingle at first but sent his nerves screaming around as it burned into his flesh. Heero couldn't take it as the man pulled out a lighter and lit up another cigarette and pushed it onto his skin so that it actually stayed on his skin, burning his flesh. Two more were applied.

Heero couldn't take it as the man began to punch his form and took out his lighter and took his beer can that he had gotten after breaking the whiskey, dripping it slightly across his arms and lighting it on fire.

Laying crumbled and once again broken on the floor, Heero stared blankly at the ceiling, eyes dry from shedding too many tears before the tender age of even five years old. His dull and empty eyes stared at the ceiling and he lifted an arm lazily to look at the blood on his hand that dripped onto his face, following the creases on his face like a tear. It left a red trail instead of a shimmer feeling. He closed his eyes, letting his blood pretend to be tears from his broken body and soul.

He pulled himself up, like a robot and leaning hunched over his battered body. He looked at the stains his blood left on the cold carpet. He watched in slight amazement as the blood filled the carpet, saturating it like a sponge would water.

He pulled himself to his feet and dragged himself into the kitchen, his real father's words imprinted into his mind. "Be a good boy, be a good boy for your mother." He asked him, the last thing before ruffling his hair like always. Was he a good boy now? He did what they asked him to, right?

"Get dinner ready!" A muffled masculine voice was thrown from the living room over the blaring of the television, drowning out his mother's muffled screams. Not like she did anything to prevent it or anything.

Heero walked into the kitchen and got out a sharp knife and pulled out a vegetable to chop up and set it on a cutting board. His mind drifted but he blinked as a slight pain appeared in his body. He looked down, surprised as he saw small rivulets of blood from his finger which was in the line of the cutting range, a slight gash on it. He looked at the knife.

When that pain appeared, it filled him. Somehow he felt…real, something that he hadn't felt since his biological father left. Tom, yes, that was his mother's boyfriend's name he remembered vaugely. He took the knife and drew it slightly across his wrist, an area where his mother sometimes shot herself crazy with injections.

He blinked and felt a blank smile creep along his features when he felt a sensation fill this empty shell he called his body. He didn't cringe in pain, but he welcomed it with opened arms and closed eyes as he let the new sensation fill him.

He could just imagine his father scolding him, being only five and a half and slicing his virgin arms. He didn't care though; his father wasn't there for him. He never got to share his trip to hell with him. He felt something cold creep up his spine, the warm feeling gone as he snapped open his eyes and looked behind him in a seemingly frantic way underneath all the ice he chilled his soul with.

A grin hung on the face of Tom. He reached an arm forward and pulled the boys arm and turned it over to look at the light cuts that had already formed a healing layer of skin. He tore them away despite the tugs the child gave to get his arm back.

"Who am I?" He had to hear it, after she wouldn't say it for while, he had to hear it from this child. He had to control them, their life, and their money, everything down to the last breath. His lust for this made him almost insane in the eyes of some but he didn't care. If he saw her talking to another male, he would be dead, gunned down on the spot.

No, he didn't have a gun. If he did, he would imagine the little boy pulling it on himself. He growled at the thought. He looked down at the boy angrily. "Who said you could do this to you?" His possessiveness growing as his eye twitched at the lack of response.

Heero looked away while still trying between intervals to reclaim his limp which was being held onto tighter and tighter, red marks growing as finger marks imprinted onto his skin grew. He jerked the boy sharply, him tripping slightly and dropping the knife with a thud, some blood from his cuts smearing on the floor.

He pulled the boy, dragging him as he tried to regain his balance. He angrily threw open a door, any door didn't matter. He shoved the wide-eyed boy into the closet. "This will teach you a lesson!" He snarled through clenched unclean teeth. He slammed the door to the closet, hitting the boy slightly since it barely held him. The pounding on the door made him smile as he locked the door, walking away with a demented smile plastered on his face.

In the closet, Heero's throat grew hoarse and he stopped screaming to be let out, his nails worn away and red, bleeding even as he felt the ridges he made in the door's thick wood. He couldn't tell; it was too dark and he breathed lightly, the air barely circulating. He drew his knees up to his chest, shivering slightly in the cold. His mother didn't pay for heating since it all went to the best drugs available.

He wondered how long it would be until he was freed from his prison. There wasn't a door handle and the closet was bare, barely fitting even him. Odin would be coming in a week. A week of being in here, in the dark, without food, all alone. He silently thanked his mentor for all the training he received to be able to even live in these conditions. He had never survived a week, but he would just think of this as another test. He looked at the walls that seemed to be closing in on him and he blinked.

Author's note:

Well, what do y'all think? Here's a little insight as to what Heero's childhood was like. Sad, isn't it? Anyhow, I hope that people liked this and I made it extra long (it was originally gonna be about two pages, but I added one or two). Also, I'm not going to do an author's response for this chapter since I need to get typing on my other stories. I said that I try to update all my stories on the holidays, and here I am typing, after my sister FINALLY got off. sigh . Hopefully, the next chapter will be up soon if I'm strong-willed enough. Oo so...tired…almost fell asleep during 'The Simpson's' during Social Studies class. Okay, well…I love reviews and let me know if you liked it or not. Also, if you have heard of other ways that people abuse children/people it might be helpful, indeed it would be. As you can assume, Heero became a cutter in this chapter, and might become one again as he relives his childhood through abuse at home. I think that the partners for this will be Relena and Duo for the project, but I'm not quite sure. I have to finish the next chapter (another flashback and then to the present it goes). Anyhow, thank you everyone for the encouragement, it really helps motivate me! Danke Schone and reviews are loved!

Red Tail