Flee From Our Troubles

No Room to Run

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts. Tragedy, ain't it?

Author's Notes:
Sorry! This took too long, and I'm very, very sorry. I got a surprise research paper from my IR class and then I had to work on an art project for school! Evil teachers! Anyways, there's an important note at the bottom, and I will try to have the next chapter out asap!

A soft, sad melody was playing as a woman's skilled fingers stroked the worn guitar strings.

" … And when you feel like crying
Lean on me
And when you feel like cracking
Count on me
And when you feel like dying
Wait for me
And when you're finally put to rest
I'll be at your gravestone …"

In her lap was a brunette boy with brilliant blue eyes, shut at the moment, sitting and enjoying the harmony. Her long brunette locks tickled the boy's face pleasantly, and he sighed in contentment.

"…If only we could go back to those times …
When the stars shined so brightly
And we laughed so innocently
We wonder what life will bring
Just know
I'll be right there waiting for you …"

"Mmmh," the boy muttered, turning on his side. The woman smiled down at the adorable seven-year-old, and gently shook him on the shoulder.

A tinkling voice murmured, "Wake up, Sora."

"Unnh," I moaned, opening my eyes and seeing darkness before me. For a blissfully ignorant second I had no idea why I was here. Then I knew. Ansem had found me, due to my own stupidity. Riku was practically dying last I remembered. And now, I felt continuing pain in my arms, ankles, and neck.

As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, I looked around with disgust at my new surroundings. A metal door enclosed me into a small room, dank and damp with location. Stale bread lay untouched in the corner, along with water that looked weeks old. Smoke was poignant in the air – in fact, everything smelled like it. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, me … all of it. I was once again wearing a crumpled frock, the standard wear for common slaves. I also had some plain jeans, old and smelling of dirt. I examined the restraints causing the pain to my body, and noticed metal shackles on my wrists and ankles, and one more thing that I dreaded most. A new, freshly cut slave collar. And fuck, it hurt like hell.

With a disdainful expression I reached up and tugged on the offending rope, hoping that it had been tied wrong or loosely, in anyway that would offer some way to get it off. But no matter how many times I tugged, it stayed firm, only succeeding in making my now rubbed-raw neck even redder. I could feel new cuts forming over the old scars, which had since healed since I ran away, and I cringed as the rope dug into it, cutting underneath it.

And as the gravity of my situation set in, I whimpered and pulled myself into a fetal position in the corner of my cell. The moisture had gotten to me, and was soaking into the rags that I was forced to call clothes. This led me to believe I was somewhere near water, but what did I know anyways? Eventually, I did the only thing I could do.

And when you feel like crying
Lean on me
And when you feel like cracking
Count on me
And when you feel like dying
Wait for me
And when you're finally put to rest
I'll be at your gravestone …

I had no idea how long I sat there singing. All I knew was that it was a very long time before I heard the door open and two men's voices.

"Heh, I think the brat is finally awake."

"Let's dump this slave in here and go tell the boss."

"Sounds good. Let's go," I heard, and the sound of chains scraping across the floor as someone was tossed into the room and scraped across the hard floor. The sound of the door shutting echoed in the small prison and the room was once again encased in black. The person, who was mere inches in front of me, groaned and sat up.

"Wh-who are you?" I asked from my position against the wall.

"I don't know," the prisoner replied in such a quiet voice that I could barely hear the answer. Light seeped in from underneath the doorway, not enough to actually be able to see much, well, not right away, anyways, but enough to see smaller details once your eyes had adjusted to the dark.

The speaker seemed to be a young boy, his black hair hung limp against the sides of his face, and dirt adorned most of his body. The rope around his neck was grungy and dirty with age and harsh treatment. Every body part on him seemed to be thin, more skin and bones than muscle. But no matter how thin he seemed, I knew I was thinner still. His rags hung from his lithe form, a sad reminder of clothes that had once seen better days. But the thing that frightened me most was his eyes. Dull and hollow. The eyes of a broken slave.

"Have you been here long?" I asked, and the response I got was barely audible – so quiet, in fact, that I couldn't hear him.

"Huh?"

"Just bought," he repeated, still quiet. I suspected that he suffered from the same thing that I used to deal with; a weak voice from misuse. He probably wasn't used to people talking to him, or even acknowledging his presence.

"Do you know where we are?" I asked, and he gave me an odd look.

"You mean you don't know?" he rasped in his weak voice. I shook my head no and he looked confused. "We're at the black market slave port."

"Black market?" I asked, confused as to the meaning.

"Well, you know, slavery is illegal now," he replied, looking down at his shackled ankles. "But that hasn't stopped them. We're still just property to them, just things that will always be used by other people. There's no way somebody like me could ever live outside of a place like this –"

"That's not true!" I interrupted, and he looked at me stunned. "I know that we can live outside of this place! This isn't what we're meant for!" I yelled. My breathing was heavy now, due to the dust and dirt in the air mixed with my own rage.

"Maybe your right …" he said, giving me a sad smile. "But I know what I'm in for next. You see, I was just sold on the auction. I'm not going to live somewhere nice and happy. I was sold to a brothel. But I'm not going. In fact, I've made myself a promise. I'm going to go live with my parents and my sister," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out something. I briefly wondered what it was, but then he said, "They were all murdered, two years ago, and I was spared. I don't know why, but I wish I hadn't been. Now, I won't have to live this way any longer."

"Wait, what are you –"

"You're words really touched me. I hope that you can be free, but it's too late for me. Continue to live in your dream, because it may come true," he said, making the thing in his hand visible. A knife. "Goodbye," he said, bringing the metal to the vein in his throat and with a quick glide across his skin, the crimson was pouring out. I watched as an expressionless look came to his eyes as they fell shut and he slumped to the side, unmoving.

"H-hey!" I exclaimed, crawling over to the boy and checking his wrist for a pulse. Not finding one, I checked for breathing, yet no air entered or left his body. My hands trembling, I slinked back into the corner, shock making me weak. He had just killed himself, and I had just sat by and watched. I felt like throwing up, the scene replaying in my head. Yet another person had been killed right in front of me, and once again, I had been powerless to stop it.

Suddenly, the door clanged open and light flooded into the room, making my eyes sting at the sudden brightness. As I was blinded by the light, I felt myself being pulled roughly to my feet and the rope slave collar tugging me forward towards the door. However, the shackles on my ankles limited my movement, and I ended up stumbling and falling to my knees.

"Get up, you lazy brat," a voice yelled, tugging on the rope. I hissed in pain as the roughness of the rope and the shackles bit deeper into my soft flesh. The guard dragged me to the door and yanked me though the door way, slamming it shut behind us. I fell back onto the ground in eagle position, my body still shaking after what I had just witnessed. "You're screwed, kid," the guard muttered as he bent down between my legs as I lay splayed out in front of him on the ground. He took out a keychain full of keys from a clip on his belt, and fished around for the correct one. Finally separating a single key from the rest, he proceeded to insert the metal into the lock and twist it, freeing the restraints on my legs.

I whimpered as I saw the blood flowing from my legs where the crimson marks showed against the light peach of my skin where the metal cuffs had been. "If you think that's bad, you're in for hell," he guard said, grabbing the rope once again and pulling my helpless body to my feet. Bolts of pain shot through my neck, the rope un-relentless in its assault against my neck.

Being led through the grungy walled prison, my mind was, surprisingly, not on what would happen to me, but instead on what happened to Riku. Was he okay? Did he need me? Was someone helping him? Was he … dead? All of these thoughts continued to run through my head as I tried to kill the pain in my neck with my mind on him. I knew I should have been worried about myself; with what was going to happen to me, but I simply didn't.

I was brought crashing back down to reality, however, when I was thrown into another door opened in front of me. This room was grander than the cell I was held in, but still stunk of the dirty grunginess. There were whips and ropes on the walls, shackles lay unused or broken on a small wooden desk, and poles lay in heaps on the ground. It was enough to scare any slave into submission, with promises of eternal devotion and obedience rolling off their tongues. Yet, that wasn't what frightened me the most. The thing that scared me the most was sitting in a chair a small distance away, an evil smirk on his face and an evil glint in his eyes.

"Thank you. You can leave him here," Ansem said, dismissing the guard with a careless wave of his hand.

"Yes sir," the guard replied, leaving me alone with man as the door fell shut, the sound echoing through my ears.

"So, my beautiful little prisoner, you decided to run away after I sold you," he asked in a deep and sultry voice standing up and walking over to me. I stood perfectly still, not daring to make a movement. "Well did you have fun, my pet?" he asked, standing behind me and leaning close to my ear. I felt a gloved hand stroking the side of my cheek as shivers ran down my back at the foreign, frightening feeling. He licked my ear and stepped away, the evil glint becoming mixed with another emotion that I was afraid to name.

I silently watched as he walked over to a nearby table and pulled from it new ankle shackles. He stalked back over to me with a predatory look in his eyes and stopped behind me. "On your knees," he whispered to me, and with shaking movements I lowered myself to the floor, resting solely on my knees. I didn't know what was going to happen; all I knew was that it was going to be bad.

"Your little excursion cost me a lot of money," he muttered, bending down and placing the shackles around my ankles. Making sure they were securely in place, he walked over to the wall and reached for one of many whips that were hanging there and slowly and menacingly made his way over to me. "That is something I'm going to have to punish you for," he said, uncurling the weapon and raising his arm. With a swipe of his arm I felt pain in my back, and I cried out at the sting as involuntary tears were called forth and fell from eyes. They lay suspended in the air like shining jewels before crashing down to the ground as I hunched forward in pain.

"Hunnnh," I whimpered as I felt blood starting to run down the cuts in my back.

"Hmm … I don't think you've been punished enough," he said more to himself than to me, and with another whish of the rope, I felt more of the pain being sent through my body. I was bent low on the ground in kneeling position now, giving him a perfect view of my bloody back.

"Wh-what's so wrong with wanting to be free?" I whimpered out while still in my painful kneeling position.

"You won't speak unless I tell you to!" he suddenly thundered, striking me across the back harshly. I winced, but willed myself not to cry out. I felt tears at the corners of my eyes, and it took all of my restraint not to let them fall. "You want to know why, you little brat?" he asked me, grabbing onto the rope around my neck from the front and yanking it around my neck. He pulled up, making me choke un-relentlessly. "You want to know what's so wrong with it. I tell you why. It's because you are worthless. Just a stain on the world's surface. You're not worthy to be in my presence, you insignificant child!" he screamed at me while he continued to choke me. I brought my hands to the rope and tried to tug it away from my neck, but it was a futile effort. I started coughing and spluttering as he refused to let go, the blood slowly starting to make its way into my mouth. I could see little black bubbles popping in front of my eyes and I started to squirm around in a desperate attempt to be free.

When I was sure that I was going to die, I stopped moving and hung limply from the rope, devoid of the necessary energy required for the struggle. It was then that he decided to let go, and I collapsed into a heaving pile on the floor, my body desperately trying to get air into my lungs. Once some air entered, I started coughing again, blood spilling out of my mouth at an alarming rate. I could feel that bastard's eyes upon me. The sadistic freak was probably enjoying seeing me at the brink of death, about to tip over the edge of the no-longer-living.

"Did that answer your question?" he spat at me, his sadistic grin smiling down at me sickeningly. I didn't reply, just continued to cough up blood and saliva, heaving for air at every opportunity I could. "Answer me." When I still didn't reply – not like I could – he bent down next to me and lifted my face to eye level with his. "I said, 'answer me,' you bitch," he snarled.

"Y-yes," I managed to gasp out before he let me go and I collapsed once again on the cold floor that was now splattered with my blood. I continued heaving as he picked up the whip from the ground and started to strike me with it once again. But I was no longer in my body. I felt more like a distant observer than a kid who was being whipped. I had no idea how long I was forced to be like this. All I knew was that by the time he was finished, my back was bloody and cut beyond recognition.

I heard him call the guards to take me back to my cell. "Oh, and before you leave, I just want you to know that you're being sold at the end of the week. That is all. Take him away," he waved his hand carelessly and I felt two pairs of hands pick me up and take me into the hall. I was taken to another cell and chained. With a final slam of the door, I was alone once again in the darkness.

And never in my life had I felt as alone as I did then. The door had shut – the door to my hopes, dreams, and most of all, freedom.

If only we could go back to those times …
When the stars shined so brightly
And we laughed so innocently
We wonder what life will bring
Just know
I'll be there waiting for you …

Author's Note:
Poor Sora. I'm so sadistic sometimes. Anyways, I was wondering what you all would think if I wrote a fic showing Riku's side of the story. It's really up to you, but keep in mind thatSora's story will be updated before the other. Just a thought. Please click that little button over there and review!