So I love scenes like this. *shrug*
Okay folks, so when I'm feeling emo, or think about trauma and insanity and stuff like that in general (and I'm a Psyche major btw. Not that good though) I think either Izaya. Or rather, this Izaya. Right here.
I wrote this fic... last year? Two year ago? Yeah... ^^ It hasn't progressed as far as it probably should've, but I want to post this Prologue first ^^
DISCLAIMER: Durarara! and all characters belongs to Narita Ryohgo-sama! This is purely fanmade, and if I can sell it I would love to but I can't so yeah ^^; *SHOT* XDD
WARNING: DARK. I do not write smut and cannot venture into M, so no matter how this fic might look like, it stays T ^^ And this fic will probably be slow, but I love this fic from all of my own. I love Angsty Izaya, I love Angst in General, and I love Angsty Shizaya fics the most!
But yeah, enough with my weirdness (It's this Izaya getting to me ^^;; ) Please R&R! I hope you like it
The sky was a sea of fire, yellow and orange and scarlet melding together around the setting sun.
The air was still, silent and solitary in the small park, devoid of people, the scene bathed in a sepia glow as if only an old photograph of decades ago. A moment preserved in time.
But this is the present, and if you were to listen carefully, you would hear the muffled, yet angry sobs of a solitary child.
She was a very pretty little girl, hidden safely within the shadows of the rusty slide... Long ebony locks tangled and matted with dirt, porcelain skin bruised and beaten and dirtied, flaming scarlet eyes swollen beneath the onslaught of tears.
She was only 6 years old. So young, so young. And yet already she has experienced hell.
This was the first time she managed to escape the devil, and she wanted desperately to just run and never go back... but she knew that was impossible. She was weak. She didn't yet know how to take care of herself. She knew nothing of the outside world. And it would only be a matter of time before he wouldfindherand drag her back.
There was no escape.
It was either she run and face the consequences, or return and live on the way she was.
Between the devil and the deep blue sea, they say. They couldn't have been more right.
But... there was one other option. And in her young, helpless, desperate mind, she found it quite appealing.
After all... her father as well has always told her to just 'die'.
Is it peaceful after you die?
The thought alone made her cry even harder, but it wasn't as if she could stop the tears no matter how hard she tries. She hated being weak.
Her limbs shook as she rose to her feet, the rumpled rags that may have been a dress very loose on her petite form.
She was scared.
Very very scared.
Not of death, precisely, but what comes next.
She has heard of an afterlife. Of ghosts and heaven and hell on the television and in books, the only solace she had at the times the demon is away. Even sleep plagued her of nightmares.
But she couldn't yet quite grasp the concept, and it was flimsy. It was not sure.
She knew nothing but pain and hurt and darkness in this world. She was a lonely existence.
But she found comfort only in that. Her existence.
She hated being weak and helpless and fragile, but she found confidence in that she was able to live when her mother did not.
As sad as her existence might've been, it was her only tie to reality.
She didn't want to disappear. Not like this. Not like how her mother did. Not when no one even knew her name. Not when no one yet knew she existed.
She didn't want to disappear.
"What are you doing?" a voice suddenly called, snapping her out of her tear-filled daze.
She was atop the slide, the highest point, and she had been staring down at the rough ground only few feet below. She was silent for a moment, before a laugh escaped her lips at the absurdity of her situation.
She turned to find the owner of the new voice and was met with a boy around her age –maybe older— with ruffled brunette locks and honey coloured eyes. He was looking at her curiously, if not suspiciously.
She smiled, and people would be shocked to see such a cynical smile on such a young child's face. "I was wondering if I should die" she stated calmly.
The boy's eyes flickered. "...Why?"
"Because it hurts to live..." she answered honestly, smile unwavering even as tears still flow from the corners of her eyes.
"Heh…" the boy mumbled, reaching her ears loud and clear. She tilted her head at the tone of voice; something hidden, something dark, something almost… sympathetic…? "Do you want to die?" the boy asked straightforwardly, his gaze fixed on hers.
"..." puzzled by the boy's reactions, the young girl set her own towards the orange sky. It would be dark soon, she thought. She'll need to choose.
"…No"
She didn't want to die.
But...
"Then don't" and suddenly the boy was directly in front of her, hands in his pocket and expression as serious as a child's face could be, saying those words as if they were the most obvious thing in the world.
She frowned, somewhat irritated by this. "You can't tell me what to do"
"No" the boy replied. "But you said so yourself that you don't want to die. And if you don't want to then you don't have to. Or rather, you shouldn't"
She fell silent at this. Her mind, much too mature for her body, marvelling at such a simple-minded statement.
It made sense, but the boy in front of her doesn't know what she has to go through while she lives, the suffering she experiences day-to-day. He didn't know anything about her at all, actually.
After all, this was the first time they had ever met…
Belatedly, she realized that this was the first time she's ever interacted with another human being, and it took her by surprise. Moreover, they are talking so casually that if anyone were to pass by, they could've passed off as 'friends' in their young age.
…Friends… She only knew it from what little she has learned. And more than that she knew how flimsy it could be. However, just the thought of it brought unfamiliar warmth to her insides…
It was not unpleasant, she decided.
"Besides" the boy spoke again as he climbed up the slide, stopping next to her. He was at least a head taller than her, she noticed. His face was scratched and bruised –looking not much better than she did, she thought— and especially catching her attention were the bandages covering several parts of his body, most prominently was the cast around his right arm. This picked her curiosity. "You wouldn't die from jumping off from here" he continued almost disinterestedly, distracting her out of her thoughts as he looked out into the city.
The young girl smirked challengingly. "I would if I were to fall a certain way. Break my neck or something"
The boy huffed at her. "Yeah right. You try to do that, I bet you'd fail and break a leg or an arm instead"
She hummed, eyeing the bandages on the other's body. "And I suppose you would know?" she asked, almost teasingly.
He stared at her confused at first, not quite processing what she meant, but then he noticed where she was looking. "Hell no!" he growled, pulling his bandaged arm into himself, his eyes flashing. "T-This is... I just..." he stumbled over his words.
The girl tilted her head in curiosity, awed at the slight dusting on red on the other's cheeks.
"A-Anyways you're wrong! There's no way I'd try to kill myself! …although I have fallen off this slide a couple of times before..." the last part was mumbled out, a pout forming on boyish lips. "But anyways, that's just crazy!"
"Hmm..." her curiosity grew at this. So he'd fallen off this very slide, broke his arms and legs over and over, having the gall to show a flash of pain –a different pain, almost similar to hers— within his golden eyes, and never once thought to die…
…she felt the urge to push him. Just to see how he would react…
"Anyways, you don't look all that good either" he mumbled out, staring down at her.
Her eyes widened.
(No. Don't look don't look don't look!)
She flinched harshly; pain and disgust and panic clouding her senses as she felt searching eyes on her; frail body curling in a useless attempt to hide what marked her entire being.
(Don't come near me!)
She forgot they were on top of the slide, right on the near edge of it; and that single, miniscule movement she'd made caused her to slip—
A hand grasped the sleeve of her tattered dress, the sudden force of it ripping the cloth off, strangely powerful, sending airborne.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She could only watch as the world tilted around her, almost in slow motion, not quite registering what was happening.
She couldn't tell up from down, only the wind whipping against her cheeks. The ground seemed to be getting farther rather than closer -like a dream, she realized in her calm state of mind, and for a brief moment she wondered if this was what birds felt when they take flight...
And then she was falling.
She was high. So very high. Much higher than she was on top of that slide. High enough to be able to see the tops of the trees…
And she was falling. Fast.
Her eyes widened.
She couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't do anything and the ground was getting closer.
Terror gripped her then.
Closer
Closer.
Closer.
She was going to die…
She was going to disappear…
"No…"
Arms.
A body.
Wrapped around her.
Her first instinct was to flee, to fight, to scream… but she didn't feel threatened…
Someone was talking.
"-y! Oy! Are you okay?! HEY!"
She couldn't speak. Not yet. Her eyes were shut tight, tears falling freely down her cheeks (had it ever stopped?) and her whole body was trembling.
She was scared –so scared.
But calm…
A sigh reached her ears and slowly, she opened her eyes. Immediately she was met with warm honey gold.
He was close, she thought. Too close. His body was against her, bandaged arms holding her tight.
But it was different.
She didn't feel scared, or disgusted, or hurt…
It was oddly… comforting…
Strong, gentle, Warm…
Safe…
"-so sorry. I didn't mean to! I swear! Are you alright?" his lips were moving, but she wasn't listening. She was more preoccupied with his eyes. "Please tell me you're alright!"
She's read somewhere about emotions being seen through people's eyes. And it looks like there were a lot of them in his. But she wasn't acquainted with emotions. Descriptions did very little…
Ah but wait. What's this?
She recognizes one.
It was something she's seen before. In a mirror once or twice; before she stopped looking altogether.
But why though? What is it doing in this person's eyes? What did this person go through that he would wear eyes similar to hers…
He was still talking. Why did he look as though he would cry?
…
Reaching a hand up to cup his face, she did the first thing that popped into her clouded mind.
She kissed him.
*_~*.*~_*
From a very young age, I was already able to comprehend my surroundings. I had an awareness that far exceeded those of others my age and older, as well as intelligence. I knew what was happening in my immediate surroundings though I didn't know what they meant until much later.
I know my mother died when I was born, and that my father 'became' an insufferable drunkard that is an absolutely pitiful excuse for a human being, if he can even be called that.
It seemed he was never nice to begin with, but my mother dying caused him to suffer great depression to the point of going insane.
My father hated me. He still hates me.
"You killed her" he would say, over and over and over again, but I knew otherwise.
I didn't kill my mother; she died because she was weak. It could have been me who died because of her. It could have been both of us. But because I lived and she died, I spent most of my childhood as her replacement.
As her replacement. In other words, I became my father's bitch from the very moment I was big enough for it to fit. I suffered through an everyday of physical, mental, and verbal abuse. And to make things worse, I had inborn Photographic Memory which caused me to remember every waking second of it.
Oh it was more than childhood trauma for me. It was a fucking curse.
I remembered crying too, I cried and cried every single minute of every single day, feeling nothing but pain and fear and hate until all of my tears seemed to have completely dried up.
I hated my mother for being so weak, for dying and letting those things happen to me. I detested my father for taking all his frustrations out on me, for succumbing into madness and doing everything he did. I hated myself for being so weak and helpless, for being too scared I couldn't even defend myself. I hated my life for becoming like that even if I did nothing wrong to deserve it.
And I hated the world.
I hated the world that is so dark and cruel and hideous…
That is…
Until I met him.
Thinking back on it, it wasn't as though he was anyone special. His words could've been uttered by any other person. His actions just like any hard-headed boy.
If you look at it any other way, it was just a normal conversation between two children on top of a slide. Albeit a little on the morbid side though, I have to admit.
…Or perhaps… there might've been something else about him that took my interest. Something like what one would call a kindred spirit. Whether it be the injuries, that flash of self-loathing I saw in his eyes or… something else… something innate, something I sensed that made me converse him in spite (or maybe it was because?) of everything I was feeling at that time.
Had it been anyone else who was there… well, who knows really?
But in the end, it was him who approached me that day, and so it is him that became the centre of my world. My… saviour of sorts…
Haha.
After I met him, I found out that I didn't know a lot of things. And because of that I knew that I couldn't hate everything. So I decided to think things through.
In the times when my father wasn't home I would sneak out, I would explore, observe my surroundings and learn a little more about the world. There are times when I'd even stow away at a corner of the library reading book after book, recording all the information in my mind before racing back home before my Father arrives and acting as if I've never gone.
Sometimes I'd wander outside just to clear my head and watch the day go by; all the while hoping I can meet him again...
I never did.
But I don't mind. It would've been too cliché.
And through all these I gained a deeper understanding of the world I lived in. I saw that the world I knew wasn't the only world there was, that there were differences between absolutely everything. And I saw that there was a reason for everything that happens, there was a cause.
I found out that there was a reason why my father treated me the way he did, I found out there was a reason my mother died, and thus I found out there was a reason why my life was the way it was.
I also found out that there's a way to change my life, to control it. And I started doing that by…helping my father out of his depression, and he did.
It was simple really. I just made him forget about my mother.
Finding a woman for him was simple, the woman was naïve too which made setting them up easy. They got together as I planned, and my father never touched me again. In fact, his treatment of me changed drastically.
(He even remembered that people below 18 years of age were required to have proper/formal education! Can you believe that?)
It went so smoothly that I couldn't help the feeling of utter elation that filled me. I went through years of torture only to find out it was this easy to change it…
And I thought things through, thought deep and hard as I watched the face of my father, a complete stranger to me now. I discovered that it wasn't only my life that I changed, but my father's and that woman's -the person I was to call mother from then on-'s lives as well.
And I wondered if I can do that with others too. If I could change people's lives. If it was as easy as that.
And I grinned.
I thought that, if it was that easy, then I could change…I could control everything.
And so… I thought that instead of 'hating', I should 'Love'. Love all human beings. Love them and change their lives, control them.
And I found it relatively easy to do... and very very amusing.
And so, as I thought this, I also decided that I don't want to be an ordinary human being that's as easy to control as everyone else was. And I figured I could be something more, something that can 'love' all human beings.
A greater being.
But I thought that in order to do that, I can't stay as I was.
My mother couldn't help dying when she had me, and I knew it was because she was weak.
My new 'mother', or rather, my Father's new wife, turned out to be a leech. While not as well as what I was able to do, she was capable of making my father do anything she wished, and he still treated her like a defenceless flower…
And so I thought back.
Women have too many flaws. They are always dependent on other people. They are always in need of a man's support and power for them to gain true authority.
Women are supposed to be treated like porcelain, because they are easily broken. They are like flowers because they are frail, and they wilt easily.
They are also deceptive, like how Eve became Adam's downfall.
…
Oh no. I'm not sexist mind you. But there are people who are. A lot of them, even if most aren't consciously aware, and one cannot hope to strive to power if she is discriminated in the eyes of others.
Take, for example, in the Christian Bible, Eve was made for Adam because he needed company. In Greek Mythology, Hera became queen of the gods because she was raped by Zeus, who is the king. In Norse, Hel was the only female who had any real power, and that was only because she held the most degrading position of all as the ruler of the land of the dead.
Even Hatshepsut and Nefertiti, two great female Pharaohs of Egypt had to grow beards and dress like men when they were in power, and still they only became real Pharaohs because they became wives to kings.
Women will forever be in the shadows of men. The wife is always of lower status than the husband. The Queen below the King…
Women can be easily taken advantage of, and that is why they use this to their own advantage, using their bodies to obtain power, to twist the will of men…
Sickening…
I don't want this type of power, I've decided.
I have come to love deception, but in no way do I want myself to be seen in this light; nor do I want to keep this weakness.
My body is my own. I will never allow myself to succumb to another.
I am not weak. Not anymore. And I have the power to live the way I want on my own, I can succeed using my own abilities above everything else.
But, I need others to be able to see that.
And so I can't stay a girl. I can't be a girl.
So I became a man.
