Author's note: What can I say…I feel compelled, and guilty about not updating all weekend and not really typing anything else for my stories so I'll try and make this one a little longer than my other updates and since I know that y'all like this story, I'm trying to make it a little special for all you reviewers as a thank you for reaching 160+ reviews:huggles readers:
Reviewer response(s):
Twitchyfingers: Ah, yes…I'm terribly sorry about that. I'm trying to find the flashback chapters so that I can fix 'em up and name them interlude so if you find the chapter number, can you tell me in a review or something so I can fix that? I reread it a while ago and mentally noted to fix it but it got lost in all the work I had to do for school. Glad you like the story!
Heero-Yuui: Ah, yes…the heroine…hehhe….snickers… . UPDATE YOUR STORY! I wanna read the sequel :sniffles: when you do update it, tell me! even though I have you on my watch-list thingy I still wanna know :glomps: I loved your first story!
Charliechaz: Woot! I have a fan :huggles:
PureAngelEnchantress: Yep, I thought so too and I hope that this one was a little longer, I felt sad that I haven't been making long chapters so I'll try to make them a little longer since I know how it feels to read something and haveit cut off short :ahem: Looks at Heero-Yuui:
Ketsueki-Ken: Thank you so much :huggles:
And now…I'm too lazy to write more responses…blah…
Love, Red Tail
Innocence Taken
By: Lost-Remembrance (Red Tail)
Some people were the types that couldn't take the silence—Sakura was one of them. She had been raised in silence, the opening of a mouth and flow of words from her tongue earning her a harsh slap and rather rough beating. She was lucky she received counseling, despite the fact that loosing her virginity to her own father still forever scared her.
Perhaps like this young boy, Heero.
Blinking back the tears that tried to surface in her eyes, she shook her head and brushed away some loose strands. The bubbling of emotions long buried beneath her were resurfacing with an unexplainable intensity. Perhaps it was the case that was bringing up such things? Usually she dealt with people having self-inflicting problems or disorders of some sort. But this case, this case struck closer to home with her.
She looked down at her clipboard.
'Heero Yuy, age seventeen. Self-infliction problem'…The list went on, stating the many problems with the troubled but withdrawn teen. 'Former soldier, harsh upbringing and until recently under abusive household. Both mother and father.' That much was a shock, that small sentence.
'A very rare case,' she mentally added to herself, 'but there are more than one ways a parent can be abusive.' But perhaps it wasn't the fact that both her abusive, but it was the fact that they were foster parents.
Just who in their right mind would send a teen already scarred into that of an abusive lifestyle?
She shivered when she looked at the many tallies on the suicidal count. More than five times he had tried to kill himself. And the report didn't end there.
The medical examination given by a doctor named Sally Po, with the help of a Karnagy or something. The name was scribbled in with haste obviously. She didn't even read the medical report, already knowing enough of the gruesome facts.
The brunette youth was obviously out of control and almost so far deep in depression that nothing could save him from his next suicidal attempt. Not even herself or his friends who had done all this to him.
The records showed the increase of erratic behavior and withdrawal from humans and even contact with another person after he was slowly removed from one facility and placed in another over and over again. And each time he was removed, he seemed farther from help and farther from the light shining in the darkness of his world.
She lifted her hand and rubbed her face, sliding it down as an exasperated sigh heaved from her. She looked at Heero over the tip of her clipboard and the teen was staring at the whitewashed wall. Probably lost in some memory judging by the distant look on his face. And if only those harmful and painful memories weren't there to begin with.
She felt at loss for what sort of trauma could possibly inflict such a deep scar and wound on one so young. And she shuddered to think of the possibilities.
The white walls struck a chord in him, reminding him that he could never be free of the memories that suppressed him and threatened to drag him under, never be able to breathe or live again. It was suffocating and the feeling wouldn't go away, there was always a pressure in his head or his chest that reminded him it wasn't a dream.
A pinch wasn't needed to wake him up. All he had to do was look at his wrists, feel the emotional scarring and the feeling of hands slithering over his body and harsh words whispered in his ear, swearing to secrecy and promises of never telling people.
The room was dark—perhaps that was to be expected. There wasn't a chill in the air, the temperature moderate and neither cold nor warm. Heero shivered despite himself when the door creaked close behind him by one of the silent attendants that walked him here. The people here obviously didn't trust him. He glared at the bed, his gaze strong and so intense it could have burned the sheets.
And he looked up to feel a small draft of air coming from a shaft above him head…reinforced with Gundanium no less. His eyes went a duller shade of prussian. His friends didn't trust him. Tears that weren't coming to his eyes blurred his vision and even though he kept his stony face inwardly, the feeling of pain and rejection welled up inside of him. It added to his even more inner turmoil. They had left him here, all alone by himself in a place farther from the people he at least felt a little safe around. People that he could put names to.
The small duffel bag full of his meager belongings fell with a muffled thump onto the thinly carpeted floor. The room was scarce. There was a bed, simple and not elegant. There was a bedside table that basically resembled a block of wood and then there was a lamp hanging from the ceiling. No other objects. Not even a window. It was just a small, small…He felt dizzy and tried to breath, resting his hand against the wall as he tried to get a hold of his surroundings. The walls closed around him.
The door creaked open and he looked up, head jerking in a sudden motion as he was caught unaware. And a person walked in, the door closing with a resounding click and the lock being set in place. The person was his doctor, dressed in the standard white garments that somehow reminded him of the lab coats from people in his nightmares.
Why did he have such a bad feeling about this…?
Heero snapped his head up; thoughts getting sorted once more as they cleared and he stared at Sakura, looking back at him expectantly.
He continued to stare at her and she to him.
She looked at him and lowered her head, shaking it a couple of times and then looking up once more, pen poised above her notepad, "I just want to know what the facilities did to you."
He looked away, fighting back the chill slowly ebbing down his spine as his hand shook a little. He clenched it into a fist to stop the uncontrollable quivering and hid all emotions that tried to surface in him. He remained quiet and his silence spoke volumes to her.
It told her he was never going to tell.
Clenching the poor pen that happened to be in her grasp, the woman cursed the damned souls that did this to someone so young and tender. They should forever burn in hell. Her gaze was strong enough to burn a hole into the papers jotted with notes here and there in freehand.
Damn them, damn them all.
"Heero?" She questioned, clenching her teeth and hissing out breath to try and pretend it was a release to her anger and frustration.
He glanced in her direction, otherwise showing no interest in her or what she had to say. It was irrevalent to him either way, whether she spoke and tried to "help" him and "cure" him, or to simple pretend like a actor and collect the money Quatre was giving out to people.
His expression darkened, if not only his eyes. He was a waste to society, used and old. He was unwanted and Quatre shouldn't have wasted his money to place him in facilities that reminded him of everthing from the doctors touching him and their cold stares that screamed at him silently.
"I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened."
What happened?
What…happened… He lared at her words and closed his eyes, trying to calm and control his breath and stop the unwanted visions and images striking at him like a baseball bat to a ball.
The night was warm, surprisingly enough. His "mother" was gone, off to drink alcohol and wine with her friends while playing card games and gambling amongst themselves and speaking of their woes in life.
He snorted, like she had any woes to being with.
So that left him with his foster father. Alone. And that itself was not a very good equation or mix between the two. Like fire and gasoline…and well, you get the picture.
So it only started out with a couple of his old college friends, his dad's that is. And some alcohol, until it turned into more. Beer cans littered the floor and table.
The rest of the night was blurry, one of his father's friends insisting, then forcing the depressant into his system. It bruned down his throat and he gagged reflexively as more and more was forced down.
He had a hangover the next morning…but it was the first time he felt emotion even relating to fear. He was naked, in his father's bed with bruises and red marks on his neck and some parts of his body. His lower back and body was sore and a arm wa spossesively wrapped around his abdomen.
Then he turned over and heaved over the side of the bed, the realization sinking it like dead weight in his mind.
"Heero," Sakura tried once more with pleading eyes, "I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened." She tried once more but nothing would work. He woudn't be swayed or faltered from his descision. Her words weren't helping at all and it only seemed to affect him more, unearthing more and more unwanted memories.
He brought his knees up, wrapping his arms around them as he laid his head down on them, tensing his body as he tried to will away the haunting that causedhim nightmares in his waking and his dreaming.
He gripped his head, struggling to bite back the feeling and meories washing over him and clenched his eyes and teeth together. His breathing came in pants and gasps.
Hands slid over his body, brushing in unwanted places and doing things that they weren't supposed to. His eyes were wide and his breathing irregular, head tilted to the side as his body was sprawled weakly on the bed, chest heaving up and down.
The click of a belt being snapped back into place reached his ears and he thanked whatever god that could hear his silent pleas that it was finally over. He shivered inwardly as his mind replayed what happened.
"We can all be friends with each other as long as you don't tell anyone." And with those words, the door was closed, the light's turned off and shadowing the room in darkness and dull shades of gray and a dead black color.
A lone tear trickled down his cheek as he tried to curl up into a ball on the ruffled bedsheet and fight back the pain consuming his body and his soul.
He gave up fighting a long time ago.
Arms restrained him and he jerked his head the other way as a mouth tried to plant a rough kiss on his own lips. They landed on his neck instead and he gasped in pain as teeth bit into his skin, breaking the flesh and causing a small trail of blood to trickle down. His shirt laid discarded on the floor, torn from his flesh in an even more rough manner.
Lips slammed against his, a tongue plundering into his mouth and made him gag, trying to pull back as the faint tinges of bile crept up in his throat. 'Oh god..oh god!' His mind screamed, flashes of the night of the "party" and the alcohol smashing against his mind.
He tried to scream but the mouth against his prevented it. Tears spilled from his eyes. And he thought he couldn't cry anymore…ironic, isn't it?
And he tried to tell himself he wouldn't cry anymore because Duo had told him a long time ago that boy's didn't cry. But...no matter what happened, it seemed that nothing ever got better and more and more tears fell until they stopped coming.
Because, he was already dead to the world and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
TBC
Author's note: Wow. Did I write that? -.-' Gee, I'm turning into an even more morbid person.
Okay, here's a note to all of you people. I want you to let you know that if anyone is suffering from abuse, either sexual, physical, or verbal TELL SOMEONE! No one has to put up with that crap and know that you aren't the only one and it's NOT your fault at all! Also, if you self-inflict pain upon yourself, get help. The world loves you and it's not a better place without you.
Love, Red Tail