Summery: Yesterday it was a bad dream. Today it's a nightmare. Tomorrow is any ones guess. Sweet dreams children; let you have sweet dreams. Let you utter not a sound. Wakeup with happy thoughts as you kiss your mothers good morning. Smile and be happy. For some little children can't wake from their dreams, can't cling to their mothers for help. For some little children dream only nightmares and no one can save them. (Rated for abuse: ¾ paring)
Scars
By: WeakenedHeartz
Chapter 2: Don't Say a Word
One of the earliest memories I have of my mother is of her songs. As a child I often had a hard time falling asleep at night. I would call out my mothers name and she would come sing me a song. Always she would sing to me, every night the same song her voice so soft almost a whisper, a quiet plea for silence.
Hush, little baby, don't say a word
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird
If that mockingbird don't sing
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring
If that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass
If that looking glass gets broke
Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat
If that billy goat don't pull,
Mama's gonna buy you a cart and mule
If that cart and mule turn over
Mama's gonna buy you a dog named Rover
If that dog named Rover won't bark
Mama's gonna buy you a horse and cart
If that Horse and Cart fall down,
Then you'll be the sweetest little baby in town
Sunday September, 15
Tree house
Hospital Wing
10:26 a.m.
I awoke in the hospital wing of the tree house the crisp white sheets that adorned my bed were pulled up to my chin. I sighed and looked up at the plane white ceiling.
I feel…
empty.
Void of all emotion. It takes too much effort to cry, and getting mad about it won't help any. There is nothing I can do, so why do anything at all. Getting mad won't make mom come back. It won't make dad stop hitting me.
Crying won't lessen the pain. It won't make the betrayal any less hurtful.
No crying would do no good at all.
Because no matter how hard he punches me, no matter the strength behind his kicks, or the sting of his cruel words. All I can remember is the dad that used to tuck me into bed, read me stories, and buy me presents.
Mom ran away from her fears. But I couldn't do that if I tried.
If I run he'll catch me.
If I hide he'll find me.
If I go for help I put my cherished ones at risk.
I can't get away from him.
So I'll save him.
I'll bring back the daddy I used to love, the daddy who used to love me too. And we won't need momma or Mushi. It will just be me and daddy.
I have to fix this I have to make things right again, if I was stronger none of this would have happened
After all its my fault he's like this.
Isn't it?
Sunday September, 15
Tree house
Living Room
10:34 a.m.
"So all you did was say her name and she doubled over in the middle of the floor, started screaming bloody murder, then passed out?" Numbuh One's expression was wary his tone filled with disbelief.
"For the third time yes!
"Why would I lie bout it?"
"I'm sorry Numbuh Four but you have to admit it is rather hard to believe. We all know that Numbuh three can be eccentric but to just break down like that for no reason is a little hard to except." Numbuh One snickered at me eyebrows raised.
"I didn't say there was no reason all I said was that I didn't know it."
I know it's hard to believe I myself am still in the dark on the reason why Kuki just broke down like that but what could I say that was how it happened, plane and simple.
Plainly; horrifyingly simple.
I can still see her bloodshot eyes. Hear her ear piercing screams. As tough the world would end. It shook me, shook me to my very core. Most see me too shallow to care, but seeing her like that, so hopelessly terrified it made me feel.
I felt an emotion that simply cannot be explained. A hurt that cut so deep that even the most articulate writer could not explain it, a feeling of caring for another person so deeply that you no longer matter in the least.
If I could, I would take all Kuki's pain. If it would make her smile again,
I would do anything in the world.
Sunday September, 15
Tree House
Hospital Wing
6:23 p.m.
The door clicked shut.
I could hear the sounds of someone scurrying around the room, the clashing of jars and ruffling of sheets coming from my left. My eyes fluttered open I could make out the blurry image of Numbuh Four beside my bed slumped in a chair shoulders hunched chin down.
Numbuh Five was the one making all the noise it looked as though she had another project she was working on. Though I knew she wouldn't say, she never did. But who was I to pry I have my own secrets to worry about why should I waste time pondering hers.
What are a few secrets between friends eh?
I sat up. Gave a big yawn still feeling slightly drowsy. Numbuh Five turned towards me. "Hey girl you been out for a wile now Numbuh Five was start'n to worry you might never wake up."
I gave a pathetic excuse for a laugh and grinned.
She left in a hurry after making sure to tell me to have a snack saying that I looked like a dying animal.
Pleasant thought.
Sunday September, 15
Tree house
1:88 a.m.
I briskly made my way over to my room. My room conveniently situated only a corridor away from the medical wing.
I slipped into the confines of my bedroom with practiced ease. Slipping from my wrinkled night attire I hurried into the bathroom locking the door behind me. Stepping into the dimly lit room I turned the shower on full blast. I stood in the middle of the swirls of pink and fluff waiting for the water to warm.
I hate pink.
The color disgusts me, suffocates me. Worst of all it reminds me. It is the hollow reflection of old memories. A picture dusted from an old photo album, faded away. A sick disfigured memento of a happier time.
Steam rose from behind shower's clear glass doors. I stepped inside. The water burned my skin. Forming tiny red welts with every drop of water. I welcome the pain. I embrace the pain. I feel the pain. Pain reminds me that I can still, feel, that I am still alive, still human.
Pain is reliable.
I washed away the dirt and grime from my nude form and stepped from the shower releasing the steam from the tinny space. I grabbed a towel from the rack. It smelled fresh like laundry detergent.
It was a nice smell.
Wrapping the towel around my petite form I stepped out into the light. The bathroom mirror was fogged slightly, just enough to sufficiently alter my form. I leaned forward gently wiping the palm of my hand against the glass.
There starring back at me from inside the mirror was the form of a girl with long dark hair. She was an unnaturally pale color, her skin almost translucent. Upon her narrow face was a dark bruise that stretched from her temple to her jaw line.
Her arms were lined with cuts and scrapes. As I starred at her I could vaguely see the way that she shook. Her hands quaked till little shivers were running through her very being.
I turned away.
It hurt too much to see her.
I cannot bear to look at her sullen form any longer. She haunts me. Follows me where ever I go, like a shadow in the night her lost and innocent eyes chipping away at the fragile shell that hides my pain away.
I returned to my room. I grabbed a pair of clean cloths from my dresser. Once fully dressed I stepped lightly over to my bed. Reaching down I pulled a small brown paper bag out from under its pink and purple folds, I empted its contents out onto the bed.
Sitting down I expertly applied a liquid foundation with a used sponge. Next I applied concealer and finished with a light powder checking the mirror in the compact that I had for travel making sure all the bruises were completely hidden.
I sighed. Makeup made my face feel dirty and heavy. But at least it serves its purpose. I stood straitening the wrinkles from my cloths.
It was time.
I had been gone to long.
Daddy would be angry.
To be continued……
Hi again!
I would like to thank every one for their reviews I'm so happy that I got such a good response! Every one seemed to like the first chapter of 'Scars' I was so happy I was a little nervous this being my first KND fic. And it having such a depressing feel to it but everyone was so supportive hehe makes me happy.
I have to apologize for the long wait but I have been busy lately. (sigh) the next chapter is more eventful this was a kind of bridge to the next trauma in our poor Kuki's life. (I feel so evil) Well chapter 3 should be out soon the title is 'I Love You Daddy Dearest' and it will be centered on Kuki's father's reaction to her disappearance the night before. Warning: this upcoming chapter will contain violence and cursing. If you are sensitive to that type of violence I suggest you do not read that chapter.
Thank you,
Weakened Heartz
Q&A/ Comments
34lover: I've never had a review as deep as yours. It was very moving lol as corny as that sounds I'm happy you liked my story so much : ) I'm also sad that you understand that feeling it is not a very pleasant thing to feel. To feel alone trapped in a twisted world that you feel would make the people close to you turn away in fear or disgust. Please send me your poem because I would really like to read it : ) thank you for the review I hope you liked this chapter.
Moony92: I didn't actually send you this fic but I'm grateful to who ever did because you seemed to like it : ) I hope you like this chapter too thank you for the review
Michelle: I'm glad you liked my story. And I know my grammar is horrible (I really need an editor…) well I'm glad it didn't make it too hard for you to read I know that sometimes no matter how good the story is bad grammar really does take away from the story so thanks for sticking with me ; ) thank you fro the review
teenyugiohpotterphantomI'm sorry I didn't update sooner but I'm glad you kept me on my toes : ) thanks for the review