AN: no, this has NOTHING to do with hiro and luz :P let's see….how should I put this…..drama? Sayo's personality originates from me. And this has NOTHING to do with Christmas. This is a two part story.

Mocking Bird

by Miname

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Sayonara……………

She had never quite understood that word. Inside, she had this slight feeling that it meant something everybody knew but couldn't really place it. To her, this word was just gibberish that could be used as noun, verb, and adjective. When somebody said 'arg!' and 'sayonara!' it meant the same to her.

The tone of voice never helped either. At first, she thought it was a happy word judging by the chirpy sound of her mother calling to her as she went out to vend goods but then, her father said it after packing up to leave somewhere and his droopy face and fading voice destroyed all thoughts of happy. The only thing that presented a hint was a small absent part of her heart.

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"Sayo!!!!"

My eyes snapped open in unsure surprise at a familiar and dreaded voice. Immediately, the mild, yet amazingly bright sun of Lutie shone down. I quickly shut my eyes in absent pain at the sudden light, remembering the date, time, and number of days until I could leave the madhouse I lived in. Good morning Lutie. Welcome to another stupid stupid stupid day.

"Come down here!"

I squeezed my eyes until they hurt. Go away voice. Just give me some more rest! I've been working already for years and years and years but I still have to work more! Just one little break!

"Now or no food for six weeks and you'll be sleeping in the glass bin again!!"

I winced as the memory of ravaging hunger and broken glass being cut into my already beyond scarred skin. From the last I remembered, I had tried to eat crushed glass after two weeks and ended up getting a mouthful of bloody metallic tasting bandages as nobody would bother to take me to a medical priest. I didn't really care anyways though – I'd been hopeless and unwanted from the start so why should I?

Scrambling onto my feet, I scurried across the roof of a cheap and moldy tool shop and jumped off onto a stack of hay. The yellow grass flew into the air on impact and spread across the ground. A slight groan escaped my mouth at the thought of having to clean up the mess, finish chores, serve customers, and escape the owner's punishments, or more accurately, games in one day. My mind automatically counted in habit the number of days I would starve.

Less energized, I got to my feet and quickly ran to the backdoor of the much hated building, hoping that the damn woman that worked inside was in a generous mood.

Grabbing the door knob, I pulled – it was locked.

"Hurry up! I'll count to two!"

She locked the door!

I grabbed a stick from the ground and inserted it in the key hole and began to pick desperately. There was no familiar click. Help me for once in a lifetime, god! You help those fat priests become rich bastards who are to lazy to say a single word! Why not me?!

"One…..!"

I've seen thieves do this!

"Time's up!"

I heard the door go click! as it was unlocked and a short woman covered with enough make up to make you sick and ugly wrinkly yellow skin appeared. Her droopy collapsed lips were curled in a cat smile. I felt like throwing up.

"No food for six weeks. If I catch you stealing, I'll feed you some ruby juice. You'll also be sleeping in the glass bin. If you try to get in a more comfortable position then I assigned you, I'll soak your clothes in bleach and make you wear them," she stated, a satisfied look in her eyes.

My stomach lurched and my throat began to burn at the memory of 'ruby juice.' In reality, it was actually liquefied cursed rubies. The owner could make these by pouring low power holy water over the ruby. The darkness will try to escape by liquefying. After bottling it, it was fed to me after I was well away from water. In order to make sure I lived after swallowing it, the woman would make me drink amplified holy water right when I was just about dead.

"Also, clean the shop and take care of customers. Clean yourself up to. You look like a disgrace. Next time you go walking around as you are, I'll be selling you to the brothel."

I gritted my teeth. The only reason why I was dressed in rags and smelled was because the fat woman hadn't bothered to give me a chance for rest and bath not to mention clean clothes.

Oblivious to my hating glare, she walked pass me.

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"Give me one reason why I should let you live – just one."

A sneering priest stood above me, an ugly look on his face.

I'm really not sure how I ended out like this. As far as I was concerned, it was just a slow yet incredibly fast blur. There was a madwoman's scream, a metallic sound, and down came a knife. It may have been my fault since I was the one that provoked her but then again, she may have been the one that made me provoke her in the first place.

It seemed to make sense though I couldn't understand what I had done – just that the owner had been acting strange the entire day when she came back and ended out pulling weapons out of the shop drawers so she could throw them at me. However, that wasn't the point. The point was, I wasn't very good at dodging sharp objects.

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"I said-" A foot dug into my ribs and a sharp pain burned through my flesh. "-give me one reason why you should live."

Moaning in pain like an injured dog, I rolled up into a ball, rocking my body back and forth in absent comfort.

I called pitifully, unable to state a truer reason, "Because I'm hurt."

Quite the underestimate – more like dead. My body was covered in inhuman holes from blunt knifes and my right arm and leg weren't existent anymore – they'd been taken care of by a spiky mace. If that weren't enough, you could see my spine through my skin.

Yet, I still wanted to live and even bothered to ask a priest for a simple heal that couldn't possibly do anything. In shorter words, living is like achohol – addictive, painful, yet unbearably blissful. That was probably one reason undead went around sucking your blood – because they though more blood is like life.

My still intact ear heard a spiteful laugh that, much like the owners', mocked my existence, dead or alive, knowingly, or unknowingly.

"Are you stupid or what?-" A mace dropped on where my arm used to be. I flinched at the numbly.- "Maybe you should just go to hell! -" the leftover part of my arm flew off – I screamed. My vision blacked out.

Behind me, I could hear footsteps walk away and the murmur of a departing crowd filled my head. As people went pass me, they stepped on my body and some even spat at my face. I whimpered and curled in a tighter ball. This is your smiling gift, o God? This is how you see me to be?

The crimson red puddle beneath me rippled as I moved in pain. I wanted to die – so much that I could kill myself. But I was too weak to do anything. I couldn't stop the pain, couldn't rest. I wondered for a moment if I would end out like the walking corpses in Payon Cave that were destined to be ripped apart by training novices with their passing priest companions - unreal.

Morbid thoughts played gleefully in my mind for a moment – thoughts that weren't mine – but may soon be. o God, see what you have done?

"Crises! Get help!"

o God, where is your smiling gift you have promised me since those days?

"Are you okay!?!"

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to be continued..?