Alright my lovelies! Sorry for the wait but I had to make some story changes so it took a little time... Anyway, this chapter involves rape, nothing graphic, but if that disturbs you please feel free to skip over it.

Names:

Akito-Main boy character from Tree of Tranquility

Keiko- Main girl character from Tree of Tranquility

Yuuki- Main boy from Animal Parade

Hope this helps for visualizing what they look like :) Enjoy! And thank you to the people who reviewed, followed and faved! Please continue to show support!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon

"Stop." I say to a presence devoid of righteousness, but it doesn't sound right. It never sounds right the first time. Let's raise the octave.

"Stop." I'm flat and the noise makes me cringe, where's the heart, the soul? Ah, maybe with some vibrato…

"Stop." It finally comes out right. My words resonate throughout the room, throwing themselves off the scarlet painted walls. If I sing the pain lessens but if I sing like her it dissipates into a calm nothingness that I can hide in. It's alright; it's alright just keep saying it over and over again until all that's left is a numbing smile.

I'm safe now because I said I am, and if I say I am it must be so. Residing in the depths of my imagination is my sanctuary, my safe haven. No one can taint me here and everything and anything that was ever wrong in the world had never come to be in the beautiful realm that is my mind.

Mom is caressing me telling me in a hushed sing song voice that everything is okay, that mama loves her baby and nothing and no one will ever hurt her. Dad is telling me a long existed tale of love and triumph over evil and I smile because I'm still naïve and believe in such things. My brothers are picking a fight with each other but it's all in good fun and we laugh and laugh for what seems like an eternity and sis tells us how foolish we are while giggling childishly. Forever and ever and ever and forever and for never, yeah, for never because it's all a lie.

Mom is dead, dad isn't here to save me this time and my siblings are broken and know of nothing. So I fall from my peaceful bliss back into an agonizing reality of him touching me in places that I don't want touched and tainting places that I vowed to protect. There's no tears, there haven't been for days upon days upon weeks upon months upon forevers.

What are my morals?

He smiles into my skin

What do I stand for?

The innocence is stolen

Can I repent for my sins?

He's done, there are no more words. No more kisses, promises of undying love, a life he never intended to keep and our dreams of paradise. We've transitioned to purgatory and I'm the dirtiest one.

I'm alone; it's not much of a difference though is it? I collect the remnants of my clothing that haven't been tattered and mutilated by his ravenous touch. It's not enough and it looks like I'm a prostitute, I grip the blanket with all my might to hold back the undeniable urge to sob that is clinging to the back of my throat. I wrap it around my self like a cocoon, my protection.

I smile that sickeningly sweet smile that I always manage to plaster onto my face as I walk down the long carpeted hall of my home. I compose myself like I always do, cover the bruises, brush the hairs and straighten my posture like I have for what feels like an eternity. No one knows what I've seen, what I've lived and it's better that way, fore who would ever accept a tainted existence such as myself? No one, not him not her not anyone, when I finally reach the door to my apartment I psych myself up, big smiles and optimistic aura, you've got this.

My youngest brother is sitting there, boring his eyes into mine. I can feel it, judgment perhaps? Or is it a look of knowing? No, he knows nothing, I laugh internally yet I can only manage to pull a fake smile onto my lips. You shouldn't be up so late sweetie manages to dance its way off my tongue and I want to vomit because I hear how cotton candy sugary sweet it sounds and it sounds so wrong but its sounded this way for far too long for me to switch it up now.

Oh God, the way he's looking at me is unnerving. Stop it, dear God stop it please or my wall will shatter. This paper thin, fragile barely existing shield I've had is so close to bursting. Eyes to the left, graceful smile displayed on my porcelain face and a hushed goodnight, I love you thrown at him as delicately as I can muster.

I don't wait for a reply; fore I don't think I have enough in me to stand before my youngest sibling's penetrating gaze any longer.

"Goodnight, Sora."

It's faint, but I hear it softly against my ears as I'm retreating to the sanctity of my bedroom. The door closes oh so quietly and I swear I just let it all go. I was doing so well, I held it in and smiled anyway, but that was too close. Akito knows he has to know, dear God he can't. I'm the sane sister, I can't be this fucked up. My little brother needs a constant in his life; he needs someone who's always cheery, always loving and isn't condemned to eternal damnation.

No, you know what I guess it is okay to cry now. If I scream out all the pain I've endured I can hide it better tomorrow. I can play this façade even longer, if only for a few hours before I over flow again. Before I meltdown and my true colors permeate the air surrounding us with its retched existence and fowl stench of a love long lost. I'll lose it now so I don't lose it tomorrow, or Wednesday or Thursday or any other fucking day of this pitiful excuse I call a life.

No, calm down, breathe in and out and smile because if you smile it couldn't possibly be so bad. Tomorrow will be better; tomorrow this will all be in the back of your mind occupying the space that it is meant to occupy.

There, the tears are ceasing and the screams are receding back into an eerie calm and just like that I'm alright. I'm okay and the visuals of the night's previous memories are leaving my mind like party guests vacate a dead event.

Quiet

My head hits the pillow

You're alright

All the energy is gone and I can feel myself drifting

No one ever has to know

And just like that I'm gone.

"Honey…"

I can feel something caressing my scalp, it's calming yet it reminds me of someone from long ago. It's a risky move but I peak one eye open ever so slightly and notice my father is sitting by my side. He looks so aged compared to how he looks in my mind. His face is crumpled into a look of concern and I evade eye contact so I can stay composed.

"Akito told me you looked troubled yesterday."

So I was right. My brother knew, he's starting to catch on and it's concerning. Thinking fast I smile that all too perfected smile that I wear for everyone and I laugh. My laugh is firm, confident and full of glee. I'm proud of myself, like really proud that I've managed to perfect the art of deceit over all this time.

My father's brow is cocked and he looks at me, like really looks at me like he's trying to figure me out. He won't be able to, because even though Akito is smart enough to maybe see the signs, my father won't be able to see through the perfected act I've been molding for longer than I can remember.

His suspicious gaze fades and instead he knocks me on the head and points out that I'm already late for school, again. It's not like I try to forget, it's just that his voice is blasted all over the radio during the early hours and maybe, possibly I'm just blocking out his voice when my alarm blasts.

My father kisses my forehead and reminds me of how I'm in college now and I really need to step up my game. There isn't really much I can fix, I'm already excelling in every class I take at the prestigious visual and performing arts school on the Mainland. My schedule is packed with long, grueling hours of singing, acting and ballet with a few violin lessons here and there. I play the piano but that's on my own time. The piano is my heart and soul, just like mama would have wanted.

Mama, everything I love and have ever loved is due to her influence. She raised me in her image and crafted me to be just like she had been. Sometimes I think it hurts my father to see how similar we are, how we laugh the same and how we carry ourselves with the same elegance. My mother taught me everything I know, and without her teachings I don't think I would have been able to hide the evils lurking throughout my life like I have.

Hm, it seems while I was lost in thoughts of the past my father has left the room. I feel this happens often, where I lose myself in memories and when I come back I'm all alone. I laugh lightly, because aren't I always alone? I have my brother and father right here with me, yet for some reason I have never felt more secluded.

My oldest brother Yuuki is gone, he ran off to join the Mainland's military as soon as mom died. He had been eighteen at the time and it affected him rather harshly. He still stops by from time to time but that childish humor he used to carry is near to gone. My sister…Well I'm not even sure I want to discuss my sister.

I guess it needs to be done; it's never good to carry hatred for anyone. My sister's name is Mochizuki Keiko, she was only sixteen years old when she ran away for God knows where. She's been missing for the past five years and we're not entirely sure where she is or if she is even living. She gave us no clues as to where she could have gone, and anywhere we thought she would be she is not.

Her and my mother didn't have a very good relationship, and Keiko had some mental problems. Not anything that would have labeled her as a special needs child, yet she was a rather…quirked adolescent.

So, I have more than just my youngest brother and my father, yet it is still lonely. Huh, I guess I managed to slip my uniform on while I was lost in thought, strange how I don't notice myself doing these things lately. I cringe when I see myself in the mirror; bruised and dirtied I avert my face from the reflection.

Thankfully it's cold and I can button my shirt up high to disguise the marks of harsh love displayed on my throat. When all is said and done I smile to my refection that now looks pristine and perfect, like she should. My chestnut hair barely skims my shoulders and the uniform I adorn looks crisp and clean against my fair skin. Perfect, perfect like I have to be.

"Sora, are you ready to walk to school?"

Ready? I'm always ready. I smile softly at my younger brother, skipping to his side gracefully and hooking our arms together. His lips turn slightly and I know in that moment he believes I'm happy, in that moment he believes I was just having weird mood swings the night before or I was just having a small girl problem, in that moment I know he suspects nothing, and I smile even wider because the façade can play on even longer.

My brother is fifteen years old yet he already towers over me. Although I am nineteen I'm rather petite and frail looking for a girl my age, which I'm grateful for because who wants to watch a large stumbling performer? Who would want to hire such an eyesore? No one, so I'm right on track for success and smile at that.

There's a new set of faces parading throughout the halls like there usually is, our 'apartment' is actually a hotel that my father owns. We're very successful and the most booked hotel throughout the Mainland so we're a rather well off family. However, we didn't always live here and sometimes I yearn for the days that were occupied with open valley views and the taste of fresh home grown vegetables. We weren't born city dwellers; we were originally a family living a peaceful farm life. Wanting for nothing and not needing for particularly anything, why? Because at one point in time we had all we ever thought we would have needed in our large family and cozy valley of Forget-Me-Not.

My father had taken over the family farm, met my mother, fallen in love and raised a family. We were once that picture perfect family; we had everything you'd think of from the cozy little log cabin to the rambunctious beagle who would eagerly greet you every time you walked up the hill to our land. Yet, I knew the end was coming when that very same beagle was shot by the neighbor kid who was on a hunting trip five winters ago.

Whenever I think of my mother I imagine a strong, beautiful woman full of life and vigor. Yet when I think back to that day in December when our family fell I can only recall how weak and frail her lifeless body looked as they carried her away. My brother and father were standing strong, both comforting Akito and Keiko was standing there with a look of indifference like she never really cared, would never care and only wanted to plot her impending departure from our lives.

I can't remember the way I looked; I have a way of suppressing things that would cause an inevitable meltdown from ensuing. I can just imagine that I was most likely numb and desolate. Is it bad that I can't remember? Not only how I felt from the death of my mother, but how I felt about a lot of traumatizing events throughout my life. Is it healthy to live a lie? Most likely not but I know there is no other way to go about it other than shoving it all into the deepest confines of my subconscious.

"Sis, let go…"

My brother's voice knocks me out of my daze and I notice we're at his school. He's giving me that questioning look again and before the beads of sweat can form I smile guiltily. I laugh about how I didn't get much sleep last night and that it must be due to the sudden temperature drop that I'm restless. Before he can comment I kiss his forehead delicately, because I need to remain in proper form no matter what, and make my way down the narrow side walk toward my own school.

I don't dare look back in case he's still looking at me with those eyes. I can feel the tension receding from my muscles and I look composed yet again. Smiling I puff out my chest and ease my posture into a perfect line. I look refined, demure and civilized as each step is carefully placed in front of the other.

I must focus my attention on something in the present, fore if my mind wonders I could end up walking miles upon miles past my academy and that would just throw me into a frenzy, and a frenzy is never a good thing.

I notice the carefree faces of children walking hand in hand with mothers and fathers who look so content to just to be in the company of their offspring, their happiness is contagious as I feel warmth radiating through my chest. Yet, as my eyes wonder to a giddy young couple I feel my chest grip in an unhealthy sort of pain.

Should I scream, cry? No, because then that would cause a commotion, and a commotion is the last thing you want when you're trying to feign properness. So instead I can feel my pale eyes sticking to the dirtied cement, as if that ant carrying food on its little back is the most fascinating thing I have ever witnessed.

What is his goal? Does he have a family to feed, a job he needs to finish, a dream he wishes to obtain? This angers me. Why does this little ant seems to have his life figured out when I don't even know what today will bring? The fury is filling my being and I watch my foot hover menacingly over his little ant body. Right as I'm about to end his life I pause and think for a moment. What will I gain from killing him, would I leave a family without a member or a goal that should have been achieved never even touched? So, I lower my foot next to the other and give one last glance to the little ant going who knows where, and I nod to him, wishing him the best.

I hear a shrill voice call my name and I'm shocked to learn I'm standing right outside of the academy. My best friend is running up to me, her pink curled pig tails twirling as she dashes towards me. Those piercing blue eyes of hers are peering into my very soul and again, I feel nervous.

Her name is Konishi Roomi and she's been my best friend since I'd first moved here five years ago. Nothing slips past her, accept for me that is. I don't know how I've managed to deceive her for so long, yet I guess I can pass it off as yet another accomplishment on my part. Her tiny hip pops out and she places her clenched fist onto the narrowest part of her waist, giving me a menacing glare.

"You're late you know our dance class starts in five minutes!"

She yells in my face in a rather harsh tone but I know there is no hatred behind it. I smile and follow after her as she continues to jab me about my late tendencies and how undependable I am. Yet, when she's all done with her rant and everything she wanted to say has been said she pauses in her step and looks at me slightly concerned. A light are you okay escapes her lips and I perk up. I laugh airily like I've trained myself to do and question why she would be asking me such a thing.

Her gaze is then cast to the ground and she mumbles about how I haven't been myself lately, this causes me to curse internally yet I keep my cool and cock my head to left instead. I tell her I find it odd that she feels that way and that I'm fine and I have been fine for as long as I can recall. Ha, a load of shit that is. Me, okay? No, I'm really never okay but no one could understand so why bother telling anyone? They'd just blame me anyway and I don't need any more added pressure. So when she turns and walks again I smile even wider because I've managed to hide it yet again.

When we get to class my teacher screams in my face, this time however I know it's not out of love, but from anger. I'm unreliable, always late, a disgrace. Same old same old she always says this to me but I don't care for her opinion and I dance like her words meant nothing and I know it pisses her off.

I let my hand soar gracefully over my head and position my body as poised as I could muster, and I dance. I kick my leg out so tight and straight yet I'm imagining that I am causing destruction to everything in my path. My pirouette is so beautiful, so refined, yet in my mind all I can imagine while spinning is deflecting his touch and hurdling him away from my already damaged body. When all the steps are completed and every move accomplished, I've earned gasps of awe at how breathtakingly beautiful I looked dancing throughout the mirrored room, yet I want to correct them and tell them it was never meant to be beautiful or perfect, it was meant to convey my raw emotions of pain and anguish, the desire I had to destroy him and the hurting feeling I harbored of wanting to reveal all the scars I now adorned.

Yet, all that escapes from my lips are empty words of thanks and smiles that are all too fake and have always been fake. My teacher is not scowling at me anymore, the look is replaced by one of glee at the impending success she knows I'm bound for. I catch Roomi's eyes and I shudder at her questioning gaze. It's getting too hard, too dangerous. My loved ones are starting to see how flawed I really am and it's killing me inside to know they may be slowly figuring it out.

The bell acts as my savior when it rings to signal class has ended. I avoid Roomi because we're not heading to the same class and I book it out of there. Next is my vocal lessons and it eases my nerves to know I'm not friends with anyone there and no one will see through my shield.

However, I mentally curse when I remember who my vocal teacher is. Mochizuki Karen, my aunt and longtime family friend whom I have known my entire life. How did it slip my mind that she is my teacher? She's always been my teacher; maybe I'm losing it even more than I had originally thought. When I enter the class she's eyeing my carefully and I just have to wonder why the hell everyone is watching me with such suspicion. My act is basically flawless; they can't possibly know or even have the slightest clue of what's going on.

Keep calm, put that smile on your face and make sure you look happy. She'll think you're fine, she'll think you're fine like they all think you are fine. Her green eyes are studying my movements and when I finally reach her I greet her warmly.

"Good evening, Sora…"

Wait, it's evening already? I try to discretely work my eyes toward the window and I mentally curse at the fact that I hadn't noticed such an amount of time had passed. My composure has remained kept and I keep the smile on my face. Making sure to act in character I hug my aunt Karen and I can feel her shocked response under my vice grip. Slowly, she wraps her arms around my lithe body and feel like I have won. I'm acting just like I normally would and it seems to be working. I'm alright, see?

She smiles at me sadly and motions for me to follow her over to the piano, we begin with some vocal warm ups and I put my heart and soul into it, I want to go higher and louder than ever before, I want to voice my pain. I think my ability to voice my disdain through my art is the only thing that keeps me sane honestly. No one has to know and I can let it all go, it's beautiful yet destructive and I love it.

I can see my aunt Karen eyeing me out of my peripheral, yet I sing anyway. We're working on an emotional piece, I don't remember the name, but I'm glad this is what we're singing because I feel it conveys me so well.

Octave

Correct

Tempo

On point

Vibrato

Not too much or too little

Suddenly my aunt stops playing, we were right in the middle of the song and I look at her slightly confused. She doesn't look at me and she just grabs her belongings and starts packing up, purposely making sure we don't make eye contact. What's wrong? Did I miss my part somewhere along the way? I grip her shoulder lightly and her head whips toward me, she startles me and I fall back a little.

"I just remembered I have to go…Uhm…Do something. Can you close up for me?"

Her words are rushed and I'm not sure if something is genuinely wrong or she's just too disgusted to be in my company, maybe a mixture of both, it wouldn't be surprising. I guess she sees the disdained look staining my features because she smiles quickly at me and says she really had just forgotten a previous engagement she had to go to.

I laugh quietly and pretend I believe her. She half hugs me and scurries out of the room like a pack of discovered mice fleeing for their lives. All I can manage to do is sigh and make my way over to the now abandoned ebony piano sitting in solitude. The piano brings me happiness; it reminds me of a life once full of merriment and enjoyment. I go up the scale, starting from the lowest pitch to the highest. Slowly I begin to play a melody I had composed myself and I feel my attention running elsewhere.

Where am I going? What am I going to do with myself? Such simple questions, yet I can't even begin to answer them. I feel like I'm lost, most of the time, almost all the time. I'm the kind of lost that no matter how hard I search, how much I yearn to return to the home of my previous life, it is an attempt done in vain, a goal that will never be achieved. I hit a low note and the lights go out. However, I don't stop, I keep playing the same melody I'd been playing for who knows how long. The room is dimly lit by the city skylines and lights, though I feel a presence. I know who it is, and I wish with all my might that it was anyone but that person.

A hand snakes around my waist and I pick up the pace of my song. I can feel tension rising throughout my body, yet I can't show it, I have to go on. The hand slowly makes its way up to my breast and I have to bite my lip in order to suppress my cry. I know who it is, like I always know who it is. I can smell his breath; he's right at my face. He's been drinking again and I'm sure he's on something like he is always on something. My song is reaching the bridge and I play faster. I have to reach the end, I must, it's needed. If I want to be able to endure I have to make it through.

He digs his nails into my waist and shoves me forward, a disgusting clash of keys resounds throughout the room and my song has ended, brutally, disgustingly and horribly ended. I can feel him peeling my clothes off my body and whispering words so sloppily incoherent I don't even bother to try and understand. When I'm finally down to nothing he shoves me harder against the icy ebony piano and I squeal. I squeal and I swear I hear him laugh so disturbingly it scares me. He shoves into me like he always does and I let myself go numb. I hang there and take it like I always take it because if I don't take it then God knows what will happen. I can feel the terror building in my system again and I have to contain myself, fore if I don't I'll lose it. I'll lose it again here and now and if I do that I may not make it out of here.

When I feel that he is done he drops me and I fall against the piano, I smack my head on the edge but I don't feel it. I've grown too cold, too numb to acknowledge the pain of blood trickling down my porcelain face that has been tainted too many times for me to count anymore. What does catch me off guard however is the fact that he has yet to leave. He grasps my bare arm harshly and flips me over so I'm staring straight into his cold brown eyes and what he tells me doesn't exactly process at first.

"I'm leaving you, and I'm leaving this city."

Leaving

Leaving

Leaving

He's leaving? Me, I'm the one he is leaving? No…No. If he leaves me then who could I possibly be with? Who would take someone like me? Tainted, destroyed and void of anything. He can't be serious; he has taken everything from me, my sanity, my body, no no he can't leave. I crawl toward him and he kicks my face and I fall. I pull myself into a fetus position on the floor and cradle my jaw that will surely be bruised now. He grips my hair and pulls me up to his face, I don't wince, I don't scream I just stare into nothing and listen to him say that we're over.

I fall to the floor but it doesn't hurt, or maybe it does but I can't feel it anymore. I lay there for longer than I can comprehend, and when I finally blink again he's gone. I'm still naked, vulnerable, and destroyed. I quietly gather my clothes and brokenly smile at the fact that nothing is ripped and I can hide the bruises that I have just obtained. I reach into my bag and pull out a coat and scarf, shakily wrapping myself up to hide the wounds as best I can. I don't even bother with the blood running down my face, I know no one is here anymore, I know no one will see me and my damaged self.

The hallways are desolate of life and I numbly make my way to the exit. My eyes slowly avert to my feet again and I make sure that I'm walking with elegance like I need to. If I stay composed, even just a little then I can pretend that I'm okay just a little bit longer.

Somehow I've ended up five miles away from school and even farther from my house. It's snowing hard and all I can see is a serene white landscape slowly being tainted as the blood drips from my face to the snow. I fall to my knees and finally onto my back, my belongings are strewn across the snow and I pay no mind because there is no more mind to give. Slowly, slowly, so slowly I close my eyes and let the coldness engulf me. I raise my arms up and down, sprawl my legs back and forth in a continuous motion and craft the angel that I will never live to be.

I hear something; it's slowly penetrating my mind. It sounds like screaming and blunt force, yet I can't quite decode it. It's getting louder, more violent and the calm I'd induced upon myself is beginning to fade and I feel fear over coming me. I slowly rise from the earth and shakily make my way up. The noise is so harsh, I clasp my ears shut as I follow it, trying to block out the disturbing muffled noises.

I'm led to an alleyway and I watch in awe as a group of men beat the living shit of another man who is just sitting there and taking it. I see it and it angers me so much that it scares me. I want to hurt them, I want to destroy them. With each kick to his chest and blow to the face a ravenous anger is building inside of me and finally I snap. My eyes shoot to a long, jagged icicle dangling innocently overhead and I break it off without my thought. The snow cushions my steps and years upon years of dancing on my toes pays off. I elegantly dance towards the disgusting excuses for humans and ever so quietly I put the tip to the bastard's neck and whisper in my hushed sing song voice.

I'll slice your throat if you don't back off.

It comes out so dark, yet feminine and eerily cynical it scares me. The men freeze and the ring leader grows tense under my touch. He's scared and I smile sadistically, good, I want him terrified. He throws his hands up and I grip the back of his shirt with my free hand and pull him away from the victim. They all look to me and slowly back up when I push their leader at them, and before I know it they're fleeing.

I look down at my hand and see it's purple. My hand begins to twitch after I drop the icicle and I infer that I have frost bite. I'm too distracted to notice the man rising from beside the dumpster he had previously been leaned against. His equally fair skin makes contact with my wrist and my eyes shoot to his violet ones. I smile at him in that disgustingly perfect way I always smile; I'll act for him as I act for everyone. He'll thank me, I'll tell him it was my duty and we'll be on our way, just like that. Yet, the face that I expected to look thankful had a dark grimace plastered upon it.

"Stop acting like you're so fucking perfect, you're imperfect and fucked and I can see it."

And just like that, I fell apart.