Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Warnings: see chapter one

Summary: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unknown characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am making no money off of this and write with the sole intent to entertain.

A loud crash followed by even louder screaming made him bolt out of his sleep though the person behind him merely grumbled a few cuss words before rolling over onto his stomach. An arm still remained around his waist with sleepy ownership but perhaps he could still slip away before his brother woke up.

The worn springs in the filthy mattress squeaked as he shifted to the edge of the low 'bed', if one could call it that. Bare off all sheets except a ratty sheet and one lumpy pillow, it was one of the best beds there were in the house; their mother, of course, having the best bed while the other children slept on the floor with paper thin cloths over them that did little to stave off the cold.

Another flow of grumbled curses left Fritz's lips as he turned over again, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sun light that burned through the dust caked window. He froze in his tracks but when nothing else stirred he lowered a foot onto the floor. A creak of protest came from the plank yet he forced himself to place his other foot down. He now sat on the edge of the bed, which was very painful considering last night.

His body protested as he slowly stood and he had to bite his lip to prevent the pained moan so as not to wake the man behind him. Dark blue and purple bruises on his wrists throbbed irritatingly and he rubbed them as he looked around the filthy room for his clothes which had been cast aside before they had even made it to the bed.

Being the eldest child, Fritz had the luxury of his own room though he didn't treat it as he should. Working at a garage some 6 miles from their home he made his own money and spent it on himself only, happily buying a fifth hand jacket while his siblings lay on the floor starving. His room actually had a closet, something not even their mother had, and was stuffed with clothes he had bought, or stolen. The room looked even smaller than it was since it was cluttered with junk and it was a miracle if he could even find his clothes to begin with.

Finally spotting something that resembled his shirt, he started forward. The only warning he got was a loud creak from the bed before he was roughly yanked back down. With a startled, and pained, yelp he found himself staring up into Fritz'a grinning face, which was in need of a shave as rough fuzz sprouted from his chin and cheeks. Hot breath blew on him with each breath and he swallowed to keep his...well, he had nothing in his stomach, but still the strong smell so early in the morning was nauseating.

"Going somewhere?"

He shook his head dejectedly. He certainly wasn't going anywhere now that Fritz was awake.

"Didn't think so." Pushing himself up with a groan, he stretched languidly, not caring about decency when the sheet fell away to reveal him completely naked.

Averting his eyes, he pretended to study a scab on his knee but Fritz lifted him and placed him on his lap facing him. The muddy-brown eyes drank in the child's soft features, ill-hidden lust and awe gleaming as he ran a hand through the flaming red hair.

"So different..." Studying the bright blue eyes, porcelain skin and red hair, Fritz seemed almost mesmerized. "Whoever your old man must be, he must certainly be a looker since you ain't got any of mom's dull looks." He shook his head. "Too bad you have to be my brother. It's illegal to touch you sexually."

He jumped when a hand started to wander once more.

"Good thing I don't follow the law, isn't it?" With a quick flip he had his smallest brother laying beneath him. Laying over him he started to kiss the relenting lips gently before adding more force as his excitement grew.

The mere thought that his actions were illegal was arousing. Of the eight other kids, he was the only one who knew this to be their youngest sibling, something his mother had murmured in her drunken stupor in his presence. After sobering up she had made him swear not to tell the others. Not that he made any attempt to let the others know; the more distant they were from the boy, the more he had him for himself. Though the older kids weren't that thick, they did hold their tongue about the cries that could easily be heard coming from the room though the thin walls.

Cupping a smooth cheek, he leaned in for a kiss but the 'door' to his room flung upon. Groaning irritatingly, he glared up at a girl of fifteen who stood with her hands on her bony hips. Not even sparing the bruised child a single glance, she said, "Downstairs. Family meeting."

"Get out of my room, bitch!"

"Shut your trap! Mother is calling us!" With a distasteful sneer she finally turned her eyes on the blue-eyed child that laid trapped beneath Fritz. "And leave the whore; this is official family business."

"Fuck off, Marie, I'm coming." He gave the small boy a sharp slap on the cheek. "Stay here till I get back." Another harder slap was given just in case the first one wasn't enough. Giving the bitten lip a bruising kiss, he got up and off the bed, not caring at all of his undressed state before his youngest brother and one of his sisters.

Pulling on a pair of soiled jeans, he asked, "What the fuck happened now? Grizelda stole mother's hash again?"

"Get down stairs and find out for yourself," Marie grumbled and turned to head back down. She didn't even get out of the doorway as Fritz hand viciously grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her almost off her feet as she stumbled backwards.

"I'm asking you, slut!" He wrenched her head to the side, cruelly twisting his fingers in her thin hair, ripping out many strands.

"Ow!! Jeremei got Katcha pregnant!" she surrendered, trying to unsuccessfully pry her hair lose. When he still held on she started to violently tug, not caring that her hair was being yanked out from her scalp. She failed to see the bemused smirk on his face as he suddenly released her. She lost her balance and tumbled to the floor, banging her knee hard on the floor.

Glaring at Fritz as he chuckled gleefully, she rose to sit on the filthy floor. A large black bruise was already forming on her bony knee and her ankle was twisted at a painful angle.

"You are such a prick," she grumbled and painfully tried to get to her feet though she failed.

"See you downstairs."

Laughing at his sister's obvious discomfort, Fritz simply turned and walked out.

Marie cursed loudly and tried again to rise but with nothing to hold on to for support she couldn't. Slamming the wooden boards angrily she cursed again before folding her arms. When a small sound came from beside her she turned to look into wide blue eyes.

"Are you okay?"

With an inaudible growl, she grabbed a slender shoulder and pulled herself up, ignoring the small cry of pain as she placed all her weight on a still healing bruise. Once standing, she removed her hand, looking like she had just touched some virus, and wiped it off on her stained dress.

"Whore," she sneered balefully and limped off, slamming the door behind her.

For the longest of minutes he simply sat on the floor, nursing the throbbing bruise. Marie's jagged fingernails had dug into the blue skin, leaving half moons in the flesh. Slowly, he got to his feet and climbed back onto the bed, curling up into a small ball and crying himself into a restless sleep.

A sharp sting ripped across his back and he cried out and shied away, opening blue eyes still wet with tears. They only widened somewhat to see his mother standing over him, an old leather belt in hand, its buckle broken and green with age. It snapped once more, just missing his face to land on his collar bone and he yelped again.

"Wake up, boy." She lashed out a third time, catching his bruised shoulder.

Gasping in pain, he got to his knees, fearing anything else would result in more whipping. Keeping his eyes on his hands, he said, "Morning, ma--"

A solid hand collided with his cheek and he flinched but remained on his knees, afraid that falling would give her an excuse to use the whip again. Though it appeared that beating him up came as a habit of hers; why did she just slap him for?

"Watch that tongue of yours, boy," she hissed and moved a bit to the side.

A young girl, thirteen years of age, stood with her arms crossed and mouth pouted in stubborn rebellion: Katcha. The girl looked between them suspiciously, eyes narrowed at his near revealing mistake. Of course, she didn't know him to be the only child of the family younger than her.

Something hit him softly in the chest and he quickly brought his eyes upon his mother who had tossed him a sweater and jeans. He blinked at the good state of the clothing and sighed inwardly; she had a task for him, again.

"Well, put it on. Their not going to jump onto you." His mother tapped her foot impatiently, the belt dangling at the ready in a bony hand. While he dressed, slowly, she continued, "You're going uptown."

This explained the new clothes. They rarely went uptown since the people there were of a more successful class and the place was filled with law enforcement. His mother had a record that was none too impressive and so she kept a low profile. In fact, they all did. Except him. Everyone got on everyone else's case, but if ever one of them would risk getting picked up by the police they all agreed that it would be him.

Still, what rare reason could there be for his mother to seek him out so soon? They had already seen each other yesterday and she made it clear that she preferred to come across him every three or four days. As risky as it was, he decided to ask.

"Why am I going?" He flinched when she raised the belt again but then she seemed to reconsider it.

"Can't have you walking around those fucking officers all bloody." She muttered more to herself than him. Her pale eyes focused on him. "I need you to go to this address and pick up a package. Then you must go to Petunia, you remember her, don't you?"

"Yes, mo--ma'am." Again he shot a nervous glance at Katcha but she had found interest in the floorboards beneath her bare feet.

"Go to her and give her this paper." She pushed a crinkle scrap into his hand. "Tell her it's for a thirteen year old who is two months along already."

"But momma!!" Katcha suddenly whined loudly, startling him as she stamped her feet like spoiled brat. "I wanna keep it!!"

"Shut your mouth!" She lashed out with the belt, aiming deliberately for the girl's belly. "I already have it up to here with feeding my own worthless lot. I'm not going to break my back by taking in a retarded baby!"

"How do you know it will be retarded?!"

"Fool! That's your brother's child you have in your stomach! You share the same blood! That child is as good as dead!"

"It's not fair! I wanna keep it!"

With a growl, their mother grabbed her shoulders and gave the girl several vicious shakes. "Show some common sense! It is not a doll to play with! That child is going to cost us money! And..." She trailed off and her pale eyes lit up. "Money..."

Spinning around she snapped the belt which caught him unprepared on his hand which still held the paper. Shocked, he dropped it and it fluttered to the floor where she picked it up, tearing it into pieces.

"Fine, keep the little bastard. The moment that thing is born we will sell it. Those squealing lump of flesh can bring in some good money."

"No!" Katcha shrieked angrily. The buckle came down hard and shattered against her pronounced cheekbone. The skin tore and bled. Covering the wound with her hand, she stared with open hatred up at the woman she knew as her mother.

"Go to your room. I am getting sick of you."

The girl's eyes narrowed to mere slits and her fists clenched but she turned and left.

"Consider yourself lucky to be a male, boy," mama said as she turned back to him. "Pregnancy is such a bitch. It is painful and tiresome. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to go through it nine times. And almost every one of them I had to do alone since the bastard who got me pregnant got up and ran off." Her voice softened somewhat.

"Why?"

Such conversations between them were very rare but they did happen. Not that his mother was bonding with him, she would talk to anything, but at least he felt like someone, even if it was just for a few minutes.

"I asked myself that same question." Her eyes got a sad, far-away expression as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Nine kids, only two of the conceptions I had been in a 'healthy' state of mind. Fritz's father raped me. Four other times I was too drunk to even stay awake. I'm not even sure who Grizelda's father is since I was with three men at one time."

Risking a slap, he timidly climbed onto the bed, kneeling beside her. She felt the shift and turned to look at him, her eyes running over his fair features.

"You have your father's eyes."

He sat up straighter. She never spoke of the man with whom she had conceived him. Any attempt to find out something about his father was met with either severe beatings or plain ignorance. Holding his breath, he made it clear that he was giving her his undivided attention. To his frail hope, she continued.

"He had such blue, warm eyes. Very bright man, he was. A very nice one too; he actually treated me like a person." She smiled at the memory and for a moment he could see the beauty she had once possessed before it had been destroyed by drugs and stress. "I remember one time I wasn't feeling so good and had to stay in bed for three days. On the third day there was a knock on the door and I opened it...and he was standing there." Her voice lightened and she laughed softly. "He brought me some soup and flowers and stayed by my bed till I was better."

"That was very nice." He tried to keep the conversation going for as long as possible. For years she had ranted on what an incompetent fool his father had been but now that he though it over he realised that she had always been under the influence of drugs or alcohol when she did. Did this mean that she really had feelings for his father?

"It was." Her eyes drifted upwards to look at the ceiling which had many large, yellow spots where the rain water and leaking pipes stained it. "I had sex with seven different men, but I actually made love with your father. And unlike the others, he stayed afterwards. He had a more than decent job at some large company uptown and promised to get me out of this slump. He had resources and one day he drove me to this house in the country. It was so beautiful. He had picked it because it had an apple tree in the front and he knew that apple was my favourite fruit. And it was big enough for me and your siblings. They liked him, which was very strange since they never liked anyone, not even me, before. But he had a smile that made the darkest days seem bright."

Her eyes turned dimmer though as she neared the end of her story.

"What happened?" he whispered, voice laced with concern.

"The day came that we would start moving into our new house. We waited and waited...but he never came." She took a shuddering breath. "He had been underway when a truck coming from the other direction lost control and slammed into his car, crushing him to death." A tear escaped and ran down her pale cheek. "When they finally pried the car off him they found this in his pocket." She lifted her hand, the sparse light in the room reflecting off the golden surface of the ring that had been on her finger for as long as he had been alive. "It's an engagement ring. He was going to propose to me that very day. He even had my name engraved into it, see?" Pulling it off, she pointed to the inner side. Matilda had been engraved in flowing letters into the gold.

"I'm sorry."

He had tears of his own and he instinctively tried to hug her. She looked about ready to return it but then stiffened and pushed him away with such force that he tumbled from the bed, his head colliding with the floor. Ignoring his pained whimper, she put on the ring, and wiping her face, she stood.

"Get the package for me and find something to eat. And you have better be back before six. We are having guests tonight." He voice was as cold and distasteful as always.

"Who's coming?"

"None of your damn business. Just do as I say." Her eyes were still wet yet she could see well enough to give him a final hard slap to his face before turning on her heels and stalking out the room.

Biting back a sob of frustration, he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. It always ended like this. She would speak to him and he would get false hope that she was opening up to him. Then she would hurt him and pretend none of it had ever happen.

The bed creaked as he slid off it, wincing when he placed pressure on his backside. On a lighter note, at least Fritz hadn't returned, no doubt having gone to work. Slowly walking out the room, he stopped when sounds from his mother's bedroom down the hall made concern well up inside him.

Walking silently, he reached the door, the only in the entire house that actually had a working lock, and leaned his ear against it. Tears came to his eyes once more when he discerned the noise as sobs. His mother was crying; muttering to herself and occasionally he could hear her whimper his father's name, Sven.

'I did this. I made her remember. I am a burden to the family.'

Unable to remain any longer, he turned and ran down the hall, her frantic crying still ringing in his ears.

Tbc…

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