Hello again! Thanks to all of you who reviewed! I never knew reviews could affect me so much, but let me tell you I was almost crying with happiness! And I DON'T cry. here is another attempt since some of you liked it, it's the least I can do. (Oh FYI there will be some swearing and… stuff in this chapter. It's kind of heavy. You've been warned.)
Disclaimer: If I owned -man, Allen would have a lot more mental break downs ;)
Why was the world shaking?
The white headed teen was now soaked again, but he paid no attention because the road and everything else seemed to be shaking up and down.
Allen held his gloved hand up and then he realized: the world wasn't shaking; he was. The trembling boy doubted he was shaking because of the cold. He was terrified of going home. Terrified of what Cross would do to him.
'Well I did get some money so maybe he won't….' The scared boy didn't want to finish that thought as it would only cause to bring up another wave of tremors.
He took various left and right turns, not even bothering to run for each coving, for he was already soaked and it would hardly make a difference now. He began to think over the events that had taken place earlier that day.
'Do your parents know you're so hideous, or did they already dump you on the curb?' This, to the jock who said it, was just a teasing remark, he would never think twice about it. But, to Allen, this was almost exactly what had happened.
After years of creating and perfecting a flawless, smiling mask, the petit boy kept any and all emotions safely hidden under a smile and innocent cock of the head. But why? Why go through all the trouble to turn yourself into smiling gentlemen when all anybody ever did was hurt you?
The answer wasn't as simple as the rapid fire questions. No, but a big part was that Allen just wanted to fit it. Ever since he was born, tragedy had be struck his tiny figure. He was born into the everyday, average family. He thinks. He can't know for sure, because he was in fact, 'dumped on the curb.'
He was born with the atrocious raw, left arm. It was mutation that happened in the skin cells as he was being developed in his mother's womb, but, even though it was something that was out of his control, his parents were horrified at was supposed to be a beautiful baby.
They left baby Allen on the side of an empty road, not even caring about the fate about to behold the helpless infant. Because a day from being left there an orphanage found and took him in. This normally wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that once the young boy was old enough to walk properly, the orphanage forced him into to cooking, cleaning, laundry, and any other tedious task that needed to be done. If this wasn't bad enough, they hurt him. Like, really hurt him. From all of the pressure, stress, and torment, Allen's once brown hair, turned to the astonishing color of white.
Turning of his memories, Allen looked up at his surroundings; he had made it to his ramshackle house. He shoved his bandaged, trembling hand, into his bag to tightly grasp the money he had acquired from the school. With newfound courage from the money that he was to bring, he stepped onto the front porch.
Standing on the tips of his toes, the frightened boy peered in through the small window atop the door. The lights were off, and it looked empty.
'Maybe he's late and I can just leave the money on the table and get by for today. I need to check out my arm anyways…'
Hoping for the best, he turned the already-unlocked door, and cautiously stepped in the dilapidated building.
"Oi, brat," a deep voice rumbled through the rooms, "you better sure as hell've brought me back money." The throaty voice drunkenly, demanded.
'He was in the other room! Oh no, I guess I don't get off easy this time…'
The teen slowly made his way to the slouching adult in the room over. The guardian was lying on the couch with multiple empty glass bottles around him; the TV was lazily flickering light onto his emotionless face.
"Aren't you going to say something, garbage?" The man slowly started to rise from his slumping spot on the sofa.
"Y-yes, m-master." The terrified boy stumbled over his words as he tried to not push his 'master' over the delicate ledge he was on.
"I b-brought you some m-money." The teen took his hand out of the dull backpack and placed it on the table, avoiding any possible eye contact.
"Dammit boy, look at me when you talk!" The man now unsteadily stood up. "Well what the hell are you waiting for? Give me the money! Booze ain't gonna buy it self!" The man commanded with an awaiting hand in front of the small boy's shaking irises.
Allen hesitantly placed the green cash into Cross's calloused hands, he then quickly retreated his hands in case of a sudden outburst; who knew how unstable the man would be in his drunken stupor.
The drunken man greedily snatched the money and counted it as if a bomb would go off if it wasn't counted in less than ten seconds.
"What kind of trick do you think you're playing at here, worthless punk?" The taller man pointed an accusing finger at the younger and started staggering his way over to him.
Allen shrunk down under his master's glare and turned his head with tightly shut eyes, expecting the worse.
'What did I do wrong? I brought him the money! I didn't say anything did I? I can't afford any more injuries…'
The evil man looked down at his prey and snarled "What worthless shit will 100 dollars buy me? I have half a mind to sell you to get money. Not that you'd be worth more than a dime!" The furious man now towered completely over the shrinking boy.
Before Allen could offer some other ways of getting money or perhaps an apology, he was bent over in half over the booted foot that had implanted itself over his empty stomach. The impact had knocked every last bit of air out from his lungs and left him coughing for oxygen.
"You have more money don't you!" The man's voice was echoing throughout Allen's ears. "You just want to keep it so that you can do whatever the hell you want, huh!" The abusive man brought up his fist and slammed it harshly aside Allen's pale features.
Now gasping and blood pouring out of his pulverized nose, the beaten boy looked up through his white bangs, only to tightly close his silvery eyes once again as Cross raised his empty bottle and smashed it over the bloodied boy's head, some of the glass shards imbedding themselves into Allen's delicate skin.
Beaten and bruised, Allen loosened his tightly closed eyes, and decided to keep them shut and explore the warm darkness. 'I'll just stay here until Cross leaves and then I can fix the new additions to my scars.' The boy lazily thought.
xX-Xx-xX-Xx-xX-Xx-xX-Xx
It was dark.
His body felt heavy.
Allen opened his eyes with much difficulty as he looked around to see Cross nowhere in sight. He sat up causing a pain to roar across his entire body. The pain was highly concentrated on his deformed arm and the abused teen looked over to see an olive green glass shard about the size of a guitar pick, imbedded inside the scaly skin.
Trying his best to stand up and walk, the injured boy stumbled his way to the bathroom. Once he managed to close the door with as much grace as an elephant, he collapsed onto the dirty tiled floor.
Allen grasped for the corner of the counter and pulled himself up with his right arm. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and nearly fell again, as his knees had gone weak.
His white hair, usually pure as the snow, was now almost all a rusty brown/red color from the dried blood. He noticed multiple small glass pieces speared into his scalp. He winced just imagining how much they would hurt to pull out.
Then his gaze moved on to inspect the rest of the damage. His right arm seemed to be fine aside from a few scratches caused most likely by his fall to the rough floor, his left arm, was still deformed and had a huge shard of broken glass, carefully imbedded into the raw skin, he also realized that rather large and ugly yellow and black bruise was starting to form across his stomach and ribs where Cross kicked him. The he looked straight at his face. His nose had a trail of dried and cracked blood running over his small lips and down his chin. A scab had started to form where Cross's fist had broken the skin next to his left eye.
'Wow, he most of been feeling compassionate last night; I got off easy.' The boy hopelessly thought to himself.
He sighed, only to find that it hurt his chest. He clutched his torso tightly with his right arm and opened the cabinet that held his stash of supplies he used to aid himself.
He pulled on the bandages that started to come off from the previous day and discarded the bloody material into the trash bin. Allen then carefully but quickly pulled the glass shard out and placed tissues over the newly bleeding gash. Then he slowly poured disinfectant over the wound gripping his chest to relieve himself of some pain. Reaching for the bandages once again, he wrapped up his newly wounded arm, with extra care where the glass used to stand.
Sighing with relief that one of his major injuries were taken care of he grabbed the pair of tweezers that inhabited a lone jar on the corner of the shelf, and applied his attention and care to the glass in his hair. He quickly snagged at the glass, though unsure of how to stop the bleeding, as he couldn't use bandages on his hair. Settling for just waiting out the bleeding while occasionally dabbing it with a damp cloth, he slowly began to remove his clothing.
He entered the shower, and again to his dismay, it was icy. Hissing in detest, he thoroughly cleaned out the dried blood from his hair.
Allen walked out of the bathroom after taking some pain killers, now in his sweats and a holey T-shirt. He carefully walked his way back to his 'room' and curled up in the corner, wishing for a peaceful sleep.
His rest was a pitch black sleep, filled with only nothing.
xX-Xx-xX-Xx-xX-Xx-xX-Xx
Daybreak had arrived and Allen was bent on being gone before his master Cross even woke up. He watchfully made his way to the bathroom and picked up a container that held pale foundation. After applying the cover up on his newly formed bruised that covered the top left portion of his face, he stealthily sneaked his way to the kitchen, and found, on the table, a note. He read it.
'I'll be gone for a few days. If your damned blood stains are still on the floor by the time I get back, there will be more stains for you to clean up. If you want to live the next I'm back, you'll have booze waiting and a damn high stack of money.'
Although the letter held numerous threats in it, Allen sighed in relief. 'I'm safe! Cross won't be here for a few days!' The boy felt like dancing, only he hurt too much so it would probably end up looking more like a seizure.
Not bothering to check the pantry any more, the giddy boy grabbed his bag, stuffed on a pair of gloves, as to conceal his left hand, and launched himself out the door. 'Ow. Probably should've thought that one through…' He thought as pain coursed through his body. 'Good thing I took the medicine or else it would've hurt a lot more…'
The sun as now shone brightly overhead, the skies being now clear of the rain clouds that were there the previous day.
Allen found himself humming a tune as he happily wondered 'I think today is going to be a good day.'
He couldn't have been more wrong.
Oooooh ominous! I hope I come up with something good… Hello! Miss me? I doubt it… I know this was kind of a harsh and depressing chapter, I found that I like writing about his day at school better (Lavi is SO much fun to write!) Why does auto correct try to correct me, when I AM RIGHT? It makes no sense… Anyways, REVIEW PLEASE! I know that I beg a lot but I got a couple reviews (you know who you are) and let me just thank you again: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH! I love you guys so much! You guys are what make this story possible because without your guys' support I probably would've given up! 3 I less than three all of you! 3