Warnings: (shrugs) I suppose violence?
Disclaimer: I do not own Saiyuki nor have I made any profit in writing this story. I do not claim the characters below as my own.
Author's Notes: This is a story I wrote some time ago, but never posted. Seeing as I've not written much else since, or at least nothing of any real worth, I figured this depressing little tidbit would at least be nice to show.
Please, Enjoy.
"Mama, I'm sorry! Mama, please…no, Mama, stop!"
She was coming, reeking of whiskey and blood. Her dark hair was streaming out behind her, like a furious cape. Her pink dress was stained with whatever food he'd spilled on her. He hadn't meant it, really.
Her hand in his hair, jerking the long strands to the side, almost clean off his scalp. His neck twisted, his chin facing her as she leaned down and spat in his face.
"I'm not your mama, you little maggot. Get the fuck out of my house!" she hissed.
Another shape, dark as she was, pulling her off him and a deep voice, trying to calm her when the boy tried to find a place to hide, to wait until she got over this fit and fell asleep.
Not today…
"I'll kill him! That bastard shouldn't even be alive! I'll kill him myself!"
And she was back, waving a knife in his face. Her hand back in his hair. His eyes were wide, watching, but he was too frightened to scream. A knife at his cheek…
"Die…"
He screamed then, the pain in his face coming to sweet life. He tried to fight her off, but her hold in his hair was too strong. He couldn't escape.
The shape, his brother, pulled her off. She tried to stab him too, but no…
The boy closed his eyes, but couldn't cover his ears. Her screaming, the spurts of warm blood on the floor, the sucking sounds of punctured flesh…a body slapping onto the floor.
"Gojyo…" a voice, his brother's voice, so gentle even though he'd killed his own mother…A hand, soft on his head. The boy flinched. "Gojyo, it's all right. She won't hurt you anymore. Look at me, I'll get you fixed up, okay?"
The salt from his tears were burning his flesh…
"Gojyo…Gojyo, are you all right?" a voice, soft, careful, sharp as the broken edge of glass…far from gentle…Hakkai. Hakkai's hand on his head, by his ear. It should've been a comforting hand, but Gojyo flinched from it.
"Gojyo…"
"No, I'm not all right…" Gojyo finally whispered, then got to his feet, turned to leave the room, "Sorry…I…I can't…"
He slammed the door as he left, his hurry pressing him into a mad dash across the house to the bathroom. He locked the door and looked at himself in the mirror.
Thin, wide lips, long, crooked nose. Skin the color of tarnished copper and sad red eyes, bloodshot from sleeplessness. His hair was growing, just a little, the color of wine, of fire, of blood. His fingers shakily traced the scars on his cheek, and he shuttered at the flash of memory it invoked. He turned away from the mirror and ran a bath, hot as the water would go.
He slipped into the water, and scrubbed at his face and hair. He looked into the water, but it wasn't pink. No blood had washed off…
He tried again, and again, and again, and-
A knock at the door.
"Gojyo?
But the blood on his fingers would not be removed…
Fin Scarred
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