Author's note: We have reached the events in the original story "I started life as an orphan" by Nixxie-the-lizard. They go more in depth about the events that transpire than I will. Again, it's not necessary to have read it but now would be an alright time to go do so if you like (it's pretty good)


Chapter Nine:

WARNING: Violence

Reality is in normal font in her head is in italics

September 22 1940

I'm alive, Alana thought a few hours later as she came to. She peeled her eyes open and saw the room spinning.

I'm alive, she thought again, no, surely that's a mistake. He wouldn't have left me alive on purpose.

She was laying on her living room floor sprayed out on her back, a hand clutching her belly. The color of the room wasn't right. Flashing different blobs of dark and red. Her head hurt badly. Slowly, and like a dream, things came back and echoed in her mind. Events, memories, nightmares.

Don't move, she thought as the pounding continued on her door. He doesn't know for sure you're in here. Maybe he'll go away. Just don't move. Don't breathe. Don't make a sound.

Nonetheless the pounding continued. She was thankful she had taken to time to lock the chain on the door upon coming home earlier. It sounded like he was going at it with both hands swapping occasionally for his feet. Alana was surprised the door held up like it did. She knew first hand how rough he could be.

And just like that it was over. All noises ceased, even the sound of him grunting on the other side. Alana raised her head from the crouching position she was in.

Just like that?

After several long moments of silence she slowly moved forward, careful with each footstep as it creaked the floorboards. Still she heard nothing. Had he given up? Was he hiding? Did he go? She reached her door and stood about a foot off staring at it. She didn't have a peephole and couldn't see anything. Hesitantly she pressed her ear to the door. She heard nothing. Not even breathing aside from her own.

Is that it?

Still, she heard nothing. Surely he would've made a sound by now.

Maybe… I should see for myself?

Slowly she lifted the chain to unlock it. No sooner had it fallen from its place had the door flung open and he had her by the neck.

She took a gasping breath before steadying her breathing and felt her heart pounding hard in her chest. She lollied her head to the side and examined the room. All the furniture had moved. Either thrown across the floor or knocked over. Just out of her reach she caught a glimpse of pink splattered on the floor amongst shards of glass. The carnations. She silently began to weep and reached out for one. Cringing she whipped her wrist back sucking in air through her teeth.

"Handcuffs?" she asked backing up a pace and tugging on the sleeves of her costume from The Gutter, "I don't know Erik. I think…"

Ignoring her wishes he grabbed her wrist and slapped one end on. He brought his hand to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair, and pushed her lips into his. It wasn't a kiss. It was loveless and rough. Whether he wanted to kiss her or just shut her up she couldn't tell. She felt teeth, too rough, but she wasn't about to say anything. Pulling his head back he snaked his arm around her slim body and slammed her against him. She couldn't get away if she tried. Nervous, she glanced at her wrist.

"But what is it for?" she asked.

He didn't answer but tugged on the open end pulling her with him. Reluctantly Alana followed. She kept her eyes fixed on his face. Something had changed. No. It had always been that way and she'd never noticed, or had been afraid to. Still she obliged. Best to keep him happy.

She cupped her hand around her wrist. It wasn't broken. She had imagined it.

"Couldn't keep your legs closed, could ya?"

Alana flinched. No. No she wasn't really here. She wouldn't be.

She glanced back at the flowers. It was just out of reach and she rolled onto her side before gripping one with the tips of her fingers.

"Close your eyes sweetheart," her father whispered from behind her.

Alana sat impatiently at the kitchen table swinging her legs, still too short to reach the floor. There wouldn't be cake, they couldn't afford it. She didn't expect much for presents either, she never did. Smiling she brought her hands to her face and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Happy birthday Alana!"

She knew what it was before she even opened her eyes. She smelt the sweet perfume, a big contrast to the normal smells on Skid Row. Although they were near starving her father had tried to satisfy his daughter's love for plants. He had found the cheapest flower he could aside from dandelions.

Alana pulled her hands away and her face lit up.

"Carnations!"

She pulled it close to her face and fumbled with it while smiling through her tears. She continued to run her thumb over the flower petals.

"Stupid woman!"

SLAP

"Erik that hurt!" She exclaimed bringing one shaking hand to her cheek and gripping her swollen abdomen with the other. "It's not my fault!"

He snorted. "Of course it's not!" He said sarcastically.

He gripped the hair on the back of her head and pulled her even closer.

"Everything's your fault," he snarled raising his hand again.

SLAP

Her head hurt something awful. The side of her temple felt warm and she reached her hand for it. Her hair was sticky on her forehead, pasted on with the blood of an open gash. His boot. One last attempt of his before heading out. It ran deep in her head. She felt a drop travel like a tear from her hairline and dripped onto the floor beneath her. Slow and deep, as if from a dream, she heard a cackle. She opened her eyes again. It wasn't Erik, it was too deep. She heard it again.

"Must be blood."

"W-what?" she breathed trying to focus but her vision was still fuzzy.

"Must be fresh."

"Who's there?"

Her eyes raced around the room. Yet she saw no one.

She craned her neck backward and her eye met the corner of a table.

"PLEASE!" she screamed.

Erik threw her hard out of his grasp and she stumbled to the floor, falling on her hands. She scrambled to her feet as quickly as she was able and took off running. Even under different circumstances he would've been faster. Reaching out he gripped at her roughly causing her to fall. Clutching her belly and spinning she hooked the back of her head on the corner of the table, knocking her out cold. She hit the ground with a thud.

But now, he was gone. Alana lay there bleeding and bruised on her apartment floor left for dead. He must've thought she was with all the damage he had inflicted. But she was alive somehow. Alana brought her hand to the back of her head where she had impacted the table. A gash, smaller than the other, but still bleeding.

"Feed me!"

She grabbed at her neck, suddenly unable to breath. But nothing was there. Only the bruises left by his fingerprints. Though just a moment ago she could've sworn something was choking her. Something long and rough like a vine.

She turned her eye back to the carnation still in her palm. That's when she felt it.

Something was wrong. She rolled into her belly grasping it hard. It felt like a cramp but it couldn't be. It wasn't at all like before.

Flutters. Tiny flutters like the wings of a butterfly. But it wasn't a butterfly. It was a person. A baby. Her baby.

Walking the length of the city she continued to bask in the spring air, unconsciously running her hand on her belly. Having just started to feel movement it was all so real now. She should be afraid but she wasn't. Not yet at least. She had a family now.

"If you're a girl I think I'll name you after a plant. A Rose or a Violet maybe."

She smiled.

"For a boy I don't know. Maybe Bud, because you are my little flower."

Alana glanced down at her bump, just beginning to show.

"Either way, you are my sweetheart."

She felt it again and let out a grunt in pain. Something was very wrong. After several attempts she was able to roll onto her hands and knees. She paused there feeling the need to vomit but instead let out a cry. After a moment she took several deep breaths and got on her knees. Pushing her palms on the table she was able to pull herself the rest of the way up. She felt it again and toppled over, gripping the table with one hand and her abdomen with the other. She couldn't stay. Something was wrong and she needed help.

"Come by if you need anything. Any help at all."

Still clutching her belly she staggered toward the door, grabbing her coat on the way out.