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Chapter two is here and please keep it coming with the feedback

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Chapter 2: Death

I roll over in Youichi's bed to look at the bedside clock. It read four twenty-three in the morning. Youichi has his arms wrapped around my forearm. He never shows emotion or asks for help or comfort, but there are nights when he sneaks into my room or pull me in his. I'll hear him crying while I'm doing homework and not be able to hold myself back from going to him, not that I would want to. I replace my arm with Youichi's favorite toy, Mr. Bear, and slip silently from his bed. I watch as he tightens his hold on Mr. Bear and settle back into sleep.

I remove the chair that we used to jam the door shut and slip into the silent hallway. I pull the door shut behind me with a soft click and make my way down to the bathroom I share with Youichi. I close the door before I turn on the light. The lock on the bathroom door is broken. Youichi tried to hide in here when Persona was in one of his nastier moods. Persona threw all his weight into the door and twisted the knob violently until it gave way. Youichi was crouched down in the tub. I had just gotten home and I heard the ruckus and wasted no time flying up the stairs.

Youichi was bleeding from his head and Persona had punched the mirror in frustration. He never wanted to leave any evidence in a visible place, in case we dared to call the police. He pushed passed me with his bloody hand and disappeared. Youichi lay, unmoving in the tub. I tried to touch him, but he hit my hand away and tried to get up. He was so disoriented that he would've fell over had I not reached out and grabbed him. I bathed him that night, carefully washing blood out of his hair and off his face. Youichi hates to be babied, despite his young age; he would rather tough out his pain on his own than lean on me for support. I don't take it personally because I don't think he's ever had anyone like me in his life. Anyone that really cared or wanted to wipe his tears or clean his wounds. I do them because my heart aches for him. I'm eighteen, I can go off to university or go work somewhere far, far away and no one would look for me or bother with me. Youichi is six years old now; eighteen is definitely not around the corner.

I prop the chair we keep in the bathroom underneath the door and l look at my reflection. My hair is a greasy mess and my face looks tired. My brown eyes are lifeless and my skin is pale. I turn on the shower and shed my clothing. I catch my reflection, mentally noting the bruises on my wrist, face, and abdomen. I pull my hair out of its ponytail and enter the shower. The hot water stings as it makes contact with my skin. I ignore the sensation and rinse my face with a few splashed of water. As the minutes go by, the shower becomes more relaxing and I take my time soaping my skin and washing my hair several times. I didn't realize how much my hair had grown since I don't let it down often and when I do it's usually messy and dirty. I wonder if I can be pretty like the girls I saw at my school. Not hiding behind my uniform and ponytail, but actually wearing a cute outfit and some make-up. I rinse my hair for the final time allowing the conditioner and the thoughts of ever being more than I am go down the drain.

The faucets squeak as I turn off the water. I step out and rap my body in the yellow terrycloth towel that hung on the back of the bathroom door. I turn off the bathroom light and listen for movement before exiting. The thought of Persona's hands on me and pulling at my sweatpants had me on edge. There was nothing to protect me if he decided to pounce. I remind myself that it is four in the morning and if Persona is home he was either really high or sleeping. I unblock the door and open it as silently as I can muster, listening for breathing or footsteps.

Silence.

I tip toe quickly and silently to my room and close the door. My wall clock read five fifteen. The only time I can take hour long showers is when I'm sure Persona won't try to make advances like early in the morning. The sky outside is a light shade of blue, indicating the sun's promised rise. I turn on my desk lamp and get dressed in the soft yellow glow. I put on another pair of black sweat pants making sure to double knot the drawstring. I put on a plain black bra with a sports bra over it, a tank top and a black t-shirt. I decide that blow drying my hair this early might do more harm than good, so I put my long hair into a bun. I look at the clothes Persona scattered on my floor and sigh. I pick them up in clumps and drop them into my basket. Early in the morning is also the best time for doing laundry. I go back out into the hall and there is a drawstring laundry bag beside Youichi's door. He knows I have to the laundry so he gathers them himself and puts it out for me.

He hates to be around me after we sleep together or I clean him up. I think he's embarrassed which I find cute about him. A little smile graces my face as I balance my basket on my hip with one arm and pick up his laundry bag in the other. I look regretfully down the stairs as I approach them because it's almost like entering another world.

Hell.

A thought occurs to me and I go back into my room. I stare at my bed where that animal tried to feel me up. My blood starts to boil and I practically rip the sheets and pillow cases from their respective places and shove them into my basket. The thought of sleeping on these sheets after 'that' makes me sick to my stomach. I'm tempted to just burn them.

I descend the stairs and see the front door wide open. I roll my eyes, kick it shut and head to the kitchen where the laundry room was attached. It's not weird to find doors or windows open at our house. Persona could never remember to shut it when he's high so that his 'customers' could come and go as they please. He could care less about the safety of me or Youichi. I pass through the kitchen to get to the small laundry room and begin to divide up the clothes. The only sound is the ticking clock on the kitchen wall. My bare feet feel cool against the white tile that covers the kitchen and laundry room. I put in the first load of wash and turn to the kitchen. Empty bottles line the counters along with dirty dishes and cigarettes butts. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. If he wakes up or comes in to this mess, he'll blame me like I'm the one having crazy druggie parties and not cleaning up after my 'guests'. I pull the garbage bag out of the can and walk around the kitchen collecting bottles and use a paper towel to pick up the cigarette butts. My father hated smoking; he would never put up with it, especially in the house. I felt a familiar pang in my chest that I always get when I think of my father.

I clean the kitchen as silently as I can. I load the dishwasher and turn it on and scrub the counters with a strong smelling cleaner. The floor will have to mop, but the washer is buzzing. I set the load to dry and another to wash. I sweep the kitchen and get the steamer mop that cleans and dries at the same time. Persona loves high end cleaning equipment. Obsessive compulsive bastard. I make sure to go over early tile slowly and carefully to remove the ash marks from cigarettes and the stains from different liquors and sticky shoe marks.

When the kitchen is spotless with a light fresh scent, the sun is already peeking through the windows. I start making Sunday morning breakfast of Tamagoyaki which is a rolled omelet. I learned to cook from tutorial videos online. My mother wasn't much help and Persona said it would make me more useful if I did all the cooking. I thought about how they would get by without me. No one to clean or cook or get hit. Youichi's bloody head flashes into my mind and makes me cringe. I can't leave Youichi here by himself. Not ever.

I set the omelets on plates as I finish making them. Youichi likes dried seaweed with his omelet. I put some in his plate. I hear footsteps and my heart tenses. Persona walks into the kitchen looking professional: freshly shaven, pressed suit, somewhat tamed clown hair, and a lack of being high. He picks up a plate and uses his fork to take one of the small fishes I'm cooking straight off the stove. He plops down at the kitchen table and begins to eat.

He sticks his fork in his mouth and spits the food right back out.

"Hot!" he yells.

The risk of saying something sarcastic was far too high and he wasn't in too much of a bad mood so I just take the pan with the fish and distribute them to the remaining plates.

"Newspaper." He grumbles with a mouth full of egg.

I see Youichi with it heading towards the table. I didn't even hear the door open when he retrieved it. He places it in Persona's open hand and receives a 'thwack' on the back of his head as thanks.

"I shouldn't have to ask for it." Persona mutters as he unrolls it. I give Youichi his breakfast plate and he sits as far away from Persona at the table as he can get and begins to eat his foods in big, but discreet bites. If Persona thought he was stuffing his face like an animal, he'd start yelling. That's comical considering Persona is the real animal in this house.

After a heavy silence with only the washer, dryer and the turning pages of the newspaper as a slight filler. Persona rises from the table and discards his plate in the sink and pours himself a cup of tea I have brewing on the stove.

"Where's Yuka?" I asked him as he takes a careful sip of tea.

"In the tub." He responds curtly, "She stinks. You might want to go help her. She wasn't really moving. And clean that room. Your mother is letting the place go."

He turns to leave and I mutter under my breath that she is not my mother. He doesn't hear me and leaves through the back door. I turn off the fire under the stove and try to stay calm as I journey to the devil's nest and my mother's cage. I hear coughing and my heart leaps in my throat. I haven't thought of Yuka as my mother in a long time, but some part of me was really scared that she might be hurt. The bedroom is a pig sty and I hear splashing in the bathroom. I throw the door open and step inside. My feet are wet immediately because that pig didn't even bother to turn off the faucet and the tub is now overflowing with my mother inside. She's fully clothed. I push back my fear and disgust and run to the faucet shutting it off.

'At least he made the water warm.' I find myself thinking.

She's keeping herself above water by pushing her feet against the front of the tub. She's soaked from head to toe and slowly sinking. I step into the tub, effectively drenching the leg of my pants and I hoist her up. She sputters and coughs. She looks aged, not how a woman in her mid-thirties should look. Her hair is stringy and thin, her skin is pale with black marks from her injections, her face is sullen and she looks so small, almost child-like.

"Mi-mi-", She started to say.

I don't know if she couldn't remember my name or was just having trouble saying it. I didn't dwell on it too long because she fell silent after a while. Youichi came into the bathroom with our traditional mop and an empty bucket and started to get the water off the floor. I got the dingy, soaked clothes off my mother and cleaned her up. I wipe her face and wash her hair. I ask Youichi to hand me one of the hanging towels and I wrap her in it. There is a vanity with a chair in the master bedroom. I put her to sit down and started picking up the clothes off the ground and into the laundry bin. I remove the sheets and discard the any paraphernalia that litter the nightstands, dresser or vanity table.

Yuka reminds me of the mental patients I saw in movies. Sitting in the vanity chair with wet hair, towel clinging to her small, deteriorated frame, an empty look in her eyes that almost mirrored mine, but hers seems far away like she's looking past this life and into the next. Her body looking sickly and she swayed slightly, even when she's trying to sit still. I use some of the dirty clothes to help Youichi dry the floor in the bathroom and dump them into the laundry basket. It takes us over an hour to clean the room, clean the bathroom and remake the bed. I tell Youichi to go and watch television as I dress my mother. It was like dressing a giant rag doll; any position I put her in, she stayed. I push any remorse I have out of my mind and put on a house dress she used to wear when I was young.

I brush her hair at the vanity table and have her facing the mirror. She looks into her own eyes and doesn't say anything. She suddenly looks up at me as if remembering I was in the room with her.

"Mi-chan. Where's Rei?" she asked in a breathy whisper.

"Out." I answer curtly.

"Oh." She says looking dejected.

Persona didn't keep excessive amounts of drugs in accessible places in the house. They were safely locked away in case some crack head got desperate enough to break in when Persona wasn't home. He didn't tell anyone where he kept it especially not Yuka. She may not have the energy to bathe herself or clean, but she can work a needle anytime.

It's kind of scary how alike Yuka and I look. If she had stayed clean she would just look like an older sister at this stage of my life. I drag the brush through her hair that doubled in length from when I last remembered seeing Yuka's hair down. I put it in a low ponytail and helped her get into bed. She just sat there staring blankly ahead so I figured I'd bring her into the living room instead. She shuffled along weakly and I held her shoulders to steer her out into the living room. Youichi was blankly staring at some cartoon I didn't recognize. I put Yuka on the couch since Youichi was in the armchair. I return to the kitchen to start cleaning up. I look at the two plates of uneaten breakfast that belongs to Yuka and me. I place them each in the microwave for a few minutes. I leave mine on the counter and bring Yuka's into the living room.

She is still a lifeless doll. I cut her omelet and fish into small pieces. I coaxed her into eating by moving the food under nose and feeding her like a child. As she chewed her eyes started to look around the room as if registering her surroundings. They rested on me again and she smiled.

"Mi-chan." She said.

I didn't reply and picked another piece of omelet off her plate.

"Mi-chan, did I forget your birthday? I'm sorry."

"It was a while ago Yuka. We're in February."

"Yuka? I'm your mom. Call me mommy like you use to." She said as she chewed.

"You're not my mother." I said out of reflex.

Her eyes looked sad, "No. I guess I'm not."

She laughed dryly like she was trying not to cry. I'm not going to let it get to me.

"Ah Mi-chan, what would your dad say?" she asked thoughtfully.

"He wouldn't have to say anything because if he didn't die I wouldn't be in this shit hole." I say heatedly putting her plate in her lap roughly and storming into the kitchen.

With a sudden loss of appetite, I throw my breakfast away and wash the dishes in the sink. I load another set of clothes in the wash and fold what had already been dried. I catch a glimpse of Yuka standing, well leaning, in the doorway. I ignore her presence as she watches me fold.

"I remember when you use to help me with the laundry." She said weakly.

"Back when you could do laundry." I reply.

She wasn't fazed, "You were so small, but you always tried to carry the big stack."

"Look Yuka, why don't you use your rare state of sobriety to brush your teeth or sterilize your needles? The ones I didn't throw away at least." I placed Youichi's shirt in his pile of clothes.

"Why can't you understand? I feel . . . Better. So much better. I don't have to think about how much it hurts. It consumes me. I can't handle not waking up beside him. He was everything. You can't possibly understand."

I slammed the dryer door shut, "I can't possibly understand? You think I wasn't devastated? You think I didn't feel like the biggest part of me just disappeared before my eyes? You think I didn't want to just fall apart!"

Yuka's eyes widened and she looked afraid. I'm yelling at her and I know it, but I can't stop. How dare she come to me and talk about him.

"You don't understand! You don't understand!" she screamed back with her hands over her ears.

I wanted to throttle her, "I don't? I understand perfectly, you lost dad and fell to pieces. I lost dad and then I lost you!"

I pushed past her into the kitchen and head for the stairs.

"I'm right here! You didn't lose me!" she yells.

I turn on my heel, up to my ears in anger, "You're right I didn't lose you, you left me! For alcohol, for drugs, you're here, but only in body. My mother would never have let me raise myself. My mother would have never cuddled with her bottle instead of me. My mother made my lunches and asked me about my homework. My mother went to my plays and took me to the movies. My mother wouldn't have made her body so weak with drugs that she can't even take care of herself. You are not my mother Yuka!"

She's bawling now. Fat tears rolling down her face and she tries to suppress them with her hands. My anger has boiled over and I feel the words that I hid inside build up and then . . .

"I hate you. Look at yourself. You're sick. You look like a dead person. Your cheeks are ashen and you're so thin. My mother had rosy cheeks, beautiful hair and a smile that could melt ice. I hate what you've become. I hate knowing that my father is rolling around in his grave at the condition of his family. You're pathetic and disgusting."

I didn't even see her move, nor did I see her hand rise in the air. I didn't register any of these things until her palm made swift contact with my cheek, making my head turn to the side. I heard her take in a sharp breath, as if she too had just realized what occurred. I can't even look at her. I turn on my heel and start up the stairs.

"Mikan! I'm sorry!" she blurts out.

I stop abruptly and feel my whole body tense. I turn slowly and look at her with the most vicious glare I can muster.

"Sorry for what? That was nothing. You should have seen the number your boyfriend did on me yesterday." I say like a cold whisper.

Her eyes widened at my tone and words. Her sobriety reminded her of her role as a mother and how she failed to protect me all these years and now she, herself, is causing me harm.

"Oh and another thing, maybe you should make a few changes in the bedroom department so Persona doesn't try to rape me again."

She crumples to the floor and starts sobbing again. I go to my room and slam the door. I catch sight of the picture frame. I snatch it off the nightstand and sit on the edge of my bed. My knee is bouncing, a stress habit I have. Yuka's never hit me. She's never done anything about me getting hit. I can't even remember the last time we had a conversation about anything. Leave it to Yuka to use her rare moment of sobriety to make my blood boil, hit me and then top it off with her irritating weeping. I look down at the photo of the three of us and my vision begins to blur. The reality of my words to Yuka and the overwhelming pain of not having my father, consumes me. I curl up on my naked bed and hug the frame tightly to my chest. The conflict of wanting to cry and not cry at the same time makes me tired and I close my eyes.

Just for a second.

I jerk out of my sleep at the sound of my door being kicked open. I scramble off my bed to see Persona, but he's . . . off. The look in his eye made my heart hammer against my ribcage. The urge to ask him what was wrong came over me, which scares me even more because for him to look so out of it that there is a glimmer of worry for his well-being in me, there is definitely something wrong.

"You little bitch." He snarls at me.

I tried to think about what I could've possibly done to put him in this mood. I had not finished the laundry, but I don't think that would make him this mad.

He yanks the picture frame from me and throws it to the ground where it hits the wall beside my closet. I hear the glass shatter, but I can't turn to inspect the damage because as soon as he throws the frame, he grabs my bun in a tight fist and pulls me out of my room and down the stairs. I ignore the sharp pain in my head and try not to fall as we descend the stairs and then that's when I see it. The entire first floor looks like a tornado passed through it. He points my face towards the living room where the television is knocked over, the picture frames that hung on the walls are now shattered on the floor, and the couch and armchair are overturned. He drags me into the kitchen where the contents of the fridge and pantry are scattered all over the floor along with broken dishes and empty liquor bottles.

Persona throws me to the ground and a piece of a broken plate goes into my hand. I sit up and pull it out, it wasn't too deep, but my head is still throbbing and my hands and knee hurt from the impact.

"Your damn mother was bat crazy when I got here. Throwing things and screaming about 'why doesn't she love me'. I had to practically shove a needle into her arm to get her to shut the hell up. Then I go upstairs to find you sleeping. How am I supposed to run a business with my house in a shit hole state and you're upstairs sleeping?"

"I didn't know she-"

His palm on my face silenced me.

"Of course you didn't know. You were too busy sleeping with that piece of crap picture frame you love so much. Your old man is croaked and he probably got what he deserved anyway."

I can't stop myself as my fist makes a solid connection with his jaw. Persona has no right to talk about my father. His facial expression is shocked and then shifts to amused as he touches the blood at the corner of his mouth. I didn't even think I was capable of hitting Persona hard enough to cause real harm, but by the crazed look in his eye, something else had snapped inside him.

Run.

I don't get very far. He catches me by the living room in two strong strides and throws me up against the wall. My ears are ringing and I can see Youichi by the stairs looking afraid. I try to tell him to go back upstairs, but he just looks at me, unmoving.

Persona grabs my shoulders and spins me around, I use my arms to guard my face, but he tosses them aside as if they're twigs and grabs my neck with both hands. I'm familiar with Persona trying to choke me, but he usually does it to subdue me, but this time it's different. His fingers are tense as he slowly applies more pressure. He's breathing heavily through his teeth, spraying me slightly with saliva. He leans down to my face, not breaking eye contact.

"I want to see the light leave your eyes." He whispers.

Persona has never threatened my life. He's told me my life is worthless and I'd be better off gone, but he's never established that he wanted to make that happen with his own hands. And now here he is looking at me like a serial killer with his prey trapped and it's getting harder and harder for me to breathe.

There's a crash and then I'm covered with glass shards. Youichi has taken one of the empty liquor bottles and broke it over Persona's head. Persona is disoriented but doesn't go down. Youichi doesn't move as if he is waiting for Persona to pass out. I choke down some breaths of air as Persona loses his grip and I scramble away from him. He turns to Youichi who is so taken off guard that he drops the remaining bottle piece that was in his hand and takes a half step back.

Never back down.

Persona went from disoriented to pissed off in two seconds flat.

"Youichi!" I scream as I see Persona kick him square in the stomach sending him into the adjacent wall and his little body crumples in a heap on the ground. I run at Persona, clawing at his face with my nails.

"You bastard!" I scream, trying to claw his eyes out.

The next minute I'm up off the floor and my back makes contact with the coffee table that gives way. Then his face is over me again and his hands hurriedly grab my neck and squeeze with force. My breath hitches and I can't think straight. I'm moving and panicking. He smiles and after a minute or so it's all I can see. Those slightly yellow teeth and that twisted grin. I scratch at his hands and try to get him off of me, but my strength is depleting.

He's laughing.

Where's Youichi?

Where's Yuka?

Mom? Dad?

And then. . .

I died.

Well that's chapter 2 let me know what you think by leaving me a review okay?

And please check out my other in progress work:

Dangerous Intentions

and my previous work that established my fan base .

Lots of Love

Chi-chan