A/N: Welcome, one and all. I hope you've been having a good day so far. If not, maybe this chapter will make you feel a little better. Heheh. Anyways, I've come across a small dilemma as I was writing out this chapter. And I can't believe myself to have made such a amateur mistake. But I guess that's what being human is about. So as I was getting at, I came to the realization that I forgot who I replied to on their review and who I didn't. now before you start saying, "This isn't the worst a person can do". I'd like to remind you that I value everyone's input and find it extremely offensive if I don't return the favor and reply back. So I decided to just reply to the recent reviews on the author's notes. That cool with you guys (and gals)?

Kalana Fox: Aw. Thanks so much Kalana for the uplifting review. I never get tired of reading any comments you leave me. They're a great combo of hilarity, heartfelt happiness and helpful advice for my writing skills. And thanks for the heads up on grammar mistakes and such. Hopefully, I can keep them low to none as the story progresses. Oh, and that video is hilarious…and strangely cute (o.O) all at once. Maybe I'm a secret sadist? Lol. Who knows. But anyways, thanks again for being a loyal reader and leaving me such wonderful comments.

Chibylove: I'll only say this once: GET A FREAKIN' FF ACCOUNT ALREADY! I swear, I always see a review from you. And always, I want to write you back and let you know how much I appreciate the kind sentiments. But guess what? You don't have an account. So this makes my job even harder. So please make an account so I can do just that. And heck, you don't even have to write fanfics to have one. Just create it. So unless you want me to take a century to update the next chapters, you better do what's good for you and make an account. Got it? Good. Oh, and thanks so much for the review. ^w^

redydragonfly: Thanks a whole bunch for leaving me a review. I never get tired of seeing the enthusiasm behind your comments. And what can I say? I love creating mixed feelings for the readers. Wow. Seven times? Now that's some dedication. You've greatly warmed my heart after reading this. /_/ And believe me when I say that I can only hope this fic of mines gets known to all RataMarta fans out there. But for now, I'll take appreciation in the readers I have now. So thanks again for the encouraging words. I think I can get through any writer's block now.

animefan24: I just love the enthusiasm in all your reviews. Lucky for you, I have this wonderful fifth chapter published. Now you have another chapter to look forward to. And yes, he said her chest was flat. But, come on. You gotta admit that her chest is…iron board-like. Oh, and I have a lot in store for Marta's mother. That ***** WILL pay for hurting the cute and lovable Marta. Mark my words. But until then, I have to put you through all the frustrations that come with Marta being abused by her mother. On the plus side, I'm glad that you're enjoying the RataMarta tid bits. It makes up for the anger towards Marta's mother, that's for sure.

Edit: On another note, I'm really sorry about the long delay. I had a death in the family and it prevented me from writing this out quicker. Since then, I've been in a funk of sorts. So I hope you take my humble apology into consideration because I promised you guys that I'd improve my updating speed. And here I was letting you guys down again. But rest assured, things are getting patched up in my life. So no biggie. But I'm definitely going to make sure this doesn't happen again. I also hope I didn't lose some of you because of the delay. I'll try to earn your respect again with better chapters if I have to. Anyways, thanks for reading this seemingly boring rant. I'll let you get to your reading now.

"Regular dialogue"

'Mental dialogue'

Dialogue previously said

Chapter 5: Bringing Shields Down

I was feeling really, really (REALLY) nervous about going to school today. Gosh. And I don't think I'll ever be able to act normal again after what happened.

It seemed like yesterday's lunch/school ditching experience only heightened my infatuation for the blonde (if that was any possible). All throughout the walk back home, I couldn't stop my heart from beating wildly against my chest or break down the wall in my mind that prevented air to circulate in my brain. On the plus side, though, my face was so hot that the autumn winds didn't bother me in the least when I was walking back home.

And then to top it all off, I had a dream about us in the Pizzeria acting all lovey dovey, sharing a slice of pizza like that one movie with the two dogs sharing a spaghetti noodle. I think I nearly had a stroke when I woke up. I mean, it's not every day that I have dreams about a guy in school. Especially if he's my friend!

Geez. I feel like such a pervert. And the worst thing is, I don't know what to do about this. I've never had experience in crushes nor do I have any other friends I can talk to about this. The only resources I have to compare my situation with are my manga (which haven't been much of a help as of late). And I can forget going to my mom for assistance. She'd just call me something crude if she knew I even so much as glanced at a guy. But to tell her that I like a guy? No, no, no. I'd rather not think about that.

But how should I act with him now? How did I act with him before?

Can I still be a friend to him when I'm having these…feelings towards him?

Wait. What if he finds out that I actually like him as more than a friend? Will he be ok with it? Will he stop being friends with me?

No, no, no, no! I can't let that happen! That could ruin everything!

…But maybe he'll be fine with it. Heck, he'll probably even say he feels the same way too.

….

….

Who am I kidding! He'd never say something like that!

Oh, great. I can already see the school up ahead. Breathe. Breathe, Marta.

Ok, calming down a little. But I still don't think I'm ready to face him just yet. My heart's pounding too hard just thinking about it. So what'll happen when I actually see him at my locker?

Gah! This is too confusing!

(Insert mental image of me ripping out all my hair, minus the pain)

"Everyone, hurry up and get to your classes!" called out a teacher at the gate. I could recognize that voice from anywhere.

Her name is Mr. Rain and she's the nicest science teacher in school. She can be strict at times, especially when she's teaching a lesson. But she definitely knows how to motivate her students to do the work. And she's like the mother figure of the school. I mean, lots of students go to her when they have problems that they can't consult their parents about. Strange, huh?

I was nearing the school gates when she turned her attention my way, waving a hand and sporting a friendly smile.

"Hello, Ms. Lualdi."

"Hi, Ms. Rain." I said in a low voice. Even after knowing her for a month, I was still uncomfortable about making myself noticed. I didn't like to raise my voice louder than necessary because I wasn't used to being noticed. Not since my life changed for the worst. Not to mention, I was still feeling jittery from my nervousness.

"I hope you remembered to bring in your worksheets?" she asked me in her motherly voice.

"Oh, of course." I opened my backpack and pulled out a paper from a folder inside. "See?" I flashed the homework in front of her.

She gives it a once over, heightening my anxiety (I don't want to find out I did a bad job on it before it was turned in). she scanned her eyes over it a second time and I thought for sure there was a lot wrong with it.

She finally looks to me and nods her head in an approving manner.

"Good job, Ms. Lualdi." she praised. "Now you better hurry if you don't want to be late."

Phew.

"Yes, ma'am." I said again, quietly. I ran towards the double doors, pushed them open in haste and sprinted the rest of the way to my locker, which was surprisingly Ratatosk-free. Weird. Because he's usually there before me.

But I didn't let that bother me so much, considering I had to hurry and get to class (and I wasn't eager to see him after all the fretting I was doing before). I pulled out the necessary textbooks and slammed the locker door shut, clicking the lock in place. I put the books in my backpack and ran towards my first period before the tardy bell rang.

The first thing I saw when I opened the classroom door was Ratatosk laying his head on his desk, looking at the black board in what appeared to be boredom. My heart was skipping beats a second and I felt myself hesitate in walking to my desk, because that meant getting his attention on me. And he'd most likely see the immense blush on my face and hear my heart pounding away in my chest.

I definitely didn't want him to see or hear my anxiety.

My teacher gave me a pointed look, as though silently questioning my sanity for staying by the door a minute before the bell was supposed to ring. I felt embarrassed, ducking my head low, and quickly rushed to my assigned seat (behind Ratatosk). I didn't dare let my eyes stray to his head as I slung my backpack over my chair and placed a spiral and pencil on my desk.

The bell rang.

Our teacher took this as her cue to get up from her seat, straightening out her skirt with tiny fingers, and gave the class an authoritative gaze.

"Ok, class. We're going to finish last class' lecture on the Mesozoic Era. As you can see on the board, the people there…"

Not even a minute into the lecture and I was already getting distracted from taking notes. The droning of our teacher's lecturing was slowly fading into the background like all the other noises around me. I was highly aware of my labored breathing just sitting a few inches away from Ratatosk. My fingers were shaking slightly, the grip on my pencil becoming loose. And it's a good thing Ratatosk is so tall, otherwise I'm pretty sure I would have gotten a few strange looks from the teacher.

And while I was practically having an emotional breakdown, Ratatosk, on the other hand, appeared to be doing just fine. I could see his hand furiously writing down all the notes. His gaze was constantly on the board as she spoke, also. But unlike all the other times, he hasn't once turned around in his seat to pass me a note or talk to me in whispers over anything that happened that day.

So was I the only one that was fretting over yesterday's events?

I let out a sigh over my stupidity to overlook things. I really was the only one fretting about it. I really was the only one who felt something…change yesterday. But how could he behave so indifferently when I was an emotional mess?

How?

I mean, he was acting differently himself. Since school yesterday he was being very 'touchy', if you will. All those gazes that still make my stomach do tumbles, the constant closeness of our bodies, his unusually kind behavior and that awkwardness towards the end of that day. He wasn't being his usual name-calling, jerky guy with a smirk that looked permanent on his face. He was…someone much different.

So, shouldn't that mean something? Anything remotely close to affection?

I don't know anymore. And I don't want to get my hopes up for nothing.

But what about you, Ratatosk? What exactly do you feel for me? Are we really friends?

Or, are we starting to be…?

"Ms. Lualdi!"

"Wha!" I was shaken from my thoughts when I heard the teacher yell out my name, standing beside my desk while thumbing the edge of a ruler.

(On a mental note, remind me never to make the teacher mad.)

"Ms. Lualdi? What is the answer?" Her leering eyes weren't helping me any. If looks could kill…well, we all know the answer to that.

She kept her stare (glare) on me while the other students looked on in curiosity.

Oh, great! Now I got everyone's attention. Including Ratatosk's! Please, can someone just end my misery already?

"Ms. Lualdi? I'm waiting on your answer." she said impatiently.

'No pressure there.' I think with sarcasm.

The looks from everyone were starting to make the room feel smaller and drops of sweat began to form at the roots of my hairline. This was becoming too much to handle. Their gazes felt like burns to my skin; like soldiers attacking from all sides. I was being watched…looked at…seen. I hated being visible. Being visible meant being criticized. And if you haven't already guessed, I don't handle well under pressure.

I had to think of something smart…quick! But what? What can I say that'll suffice as an answer and get people to stop looking at me?

"Ms. Lualdi? I'm talking to you. So what is it?"

'Come on. Think, think, think! Something smart, Marta!'

"Uh…" I gulp nervously. "What was the question?"

The world freezes over in that moment.

The teacher's face hardens greatly.

The room becomes silent.

And the world spins on its axis again.

I mentally face palmed myself the second those words were uttered. And now people were starting to laugh at me. At me!

My teacher didn't looked pleased in the least. In fact, I think her face hardened even more after I asked her that question. And again, if looks could kill…

"Oh, so you think this is funny?" she said with such distain.

"Wha? No, no, no. I-I didn't think it was funny. Honest. I-I just asked-"

"No more excuses, Ms. Lualdi." She pounded the ruler hard on the palm of her hand. "It's plainly obvious that you didn't care to pay attention to my lecture."

I was about to protest, but she beat me to it.

"And since you find my lecture utterly boring, I think it would be best you stand outside in the hall until class is done."

I hung my head low to keep from everyone seeing my teary eyes. "Y-Yes, Ms. Takumi." I said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"And take your things with you."

"…Yes, ma'am."

I gathered my spiral and pencil, sticking them inside my backpack and unhooked the straps from around my chair. I avoided looking at anyone as I did this, too afraid to see the smirks that I was sure were forming on their faces. I didn't even want to look at Ratatosk after such a humiliating experience. He'd probably have the same look as everyone else. And I don't think I could handle such a look if it was coming from him.

I walked through the few desks before me and heard snickering as I passed by. There were also hushed whispers. But I couldn't make out what was said.

Well, it doesn't matter anyways. I know for a fact it was about me.

And after all this time that I made sure to avoid confrontation and/or embarrassment that's witnessed by any of the students here. It came crashing down on me in a matter of fifteen minutes. I was the laughing stock now. The girl that wasn't paying attention in class and decided to go off on a thinking tangent instead of taking notes like a good student.

I just hope she doesn't tell my mom about this. The last thing I need (other than a destroyed reputation) is to get beaten for doing stuff like this in school. I'm already getting scared just thinking about it too. Images of beatings from three nights ago become all too vivid in my mind as I pass the desks of curious classmates. My body cringed a little from the thought.

I turned the knob of the door and made my leave with whatever last shred of dignity I had after all that (which probably wasn't much to begin with, considering my already low self-esteem). It wasn't before the door closed shut that I heard a guy burst out in loud laughter. And with the door shut, I could vaguely hear a couple of other people join in as the volume of their laughter increased.

I dropped my bag and slid down the floor. I drew my legs in and hugged them the best I could as I shook in hysterics. I tried clenching my eyes shut as best as possible. And I bit hard on my lip, hoping to muffle the sobs that were wracking my body.

But that didn't stop the sniffling through my nostrils or the tears leaking through the corners of my eyes. I was breaking down in the middle of the school hall. How pathetic is that?

In retrospect, I shouldn't have been getting so emotional over something as miniscule as being on the receiving end of humiliation in front of all my classmates.

But maybe that's just because of my situation. I was never this emotional before; positivity should have been my middle name at the time. It was easy to brush things off like nothing and look at the brighter side of things. At the time, people didn't see me as some strange girl who was extra quiet and anti-social to the max.

No. I was the girl who made friends with many and was treated with respect. I had a 'sunny' personality, I'll admit.

That was before life got rough and my smile faded ever so slowly with time. I lost my happiness all together.

'My happiness…'

I guess I didn't notice the tears running down my face until I felt something warm on my face. But then I saw something lightly tan on my cheeks when I went to brush the liquid off and jolted up in fright.

(Another note to self: don't suddenly slide your body back when you've been sitting near school lockers. You'll only hit against said lockers…which are made of metal by the way)

I whipped my head to the side (a hand rubbing at my hurt head) and saw the last person I expected to be out here.

"R-Ratatosk?"

He cocked a smirk. "Yup."

"B-But, why are you h-here?"

He kneeled down, reached his hand out and swiped it under my left eye. Smirk long gone. "Why are you crying?" he said with a serious face.

I momentarily got lost in the sensation of his warmth on my skin, my head reeling with all these different emotions I couldn't name. Though, the butterflies in my stomach were probably a clear indication of what my body was experiencing. It's been so long since I've felt a warm caress on my face. Far too long since then.

But it didn't last long as I felt his gaze on me (more like piercing gaze that could see right through me…and my hidden emotions) and I shook my head away to the side.

I can't let him see me looking so vulnerable. I'm not supposed to let anyone see.

"I-I'm not crying." I force out stubbornly. "And besides, I already t-told you not to answer my question with another question."

I felt his hand under my chin, attempting to turn my face forward. And I fought it for a few seconds because I didn't want him to see the pathetic look on my face.

My mom thought it pathetic. She scolded me hard (and beat me up) for it.

She hated me most when I was like this.

I don't want to get the same reaction from Ratatosk too. He'll hate me too if he sees.

Just like my own mother did.

I can feel the tears roll down like a river, obscuring my vision of the school hall. I felt the hiccups bubbling up my throat like bitter acid. Or maybe it was the bile from having been caught in such a vulnerable state. What ever the case, I felt embarrassed and utterly sick from letting down my defenses like that.

I felt sick with myself.

I kept resisting some more to his (surprisingly) gentle grip. He placed both hands on my tear stained face and turned it to look at him.

I don't think I've ever felt as self-conscious like I do at this moment. I wanted to crawl in a corner and stay there till graduation, if possible. Here I was, sitting on the floor of the school hall, crying my heart out to the guy I have a crush on, and, to make matters worse, all of this happened because I was thinking of said guy.

And did he have to give me that look? It's almost like he knows it makes me feel uncomfortable and raw- like as if my insides don't tumble in excitement while making me feel queasy and lightheaded. His gaze should be illegal, if anything. He's the reason my heart either pounds like a jackhammer or goes into cardiac arrest. It makes me want to turn away. But the hands on my face are preventing such movement.

Images of my mother beating me, with a look of pure malice on her face, yelling curse words at the top of her lungs, come to mind. I feel that familiar feeling of dread and panic creep up. And before I know it, I'm crying out hysterically.

His thumbs brush away the tears that fall and his face contorts in this expression of hurt. But that's what I'm barely able to see from my quickly blurred vision as I started to hyperventilate.

"P-Please, don't l-look at (hic) m-me. P-Please."

"Marta…" His eyes have a look of concern in them, the red in his irises toning down from a blazing red to a deep crimson. "Why are you crying?" he asks softly.

"N-No. I (hic) can't say. D-Don't look at m-me. P-Please (hic) don't."

"Breath, Marta." he says slowly, like he's comforting a child. "Take a deep breath, hold it in, and release. Can you do that?"

I'm shaking my head no, still gasping for breath. I'm becoming increasingly lightheaded from the crying and his warm touch.

He scoots closer to me, his now bended knees brushing my own, takes my hand gently and places it over his chest. Over his heart.

"Breath." he repeats, exaggerating his own breathing. He inhales deeply, pauses, and exhales. "Like me. Breath like me, Marta."

I'm trying to focus on the fall and rise of his chest, working to copy his action. I clench my eyes shut again and let Ratatosk's comforting voice fill my mind, feeling the steady thumping of his heartbeat. Eventually, the lightheadedness leaves me and I'm able to think a little clearly.

"That's good. Breathe just like that."

I'm still hiccupping a little and the tears come in trickles by now. But by some miracle, the pain subsides some and my emotions are more composed if any.

"Now open your eyes." he commands.

I do as he says and open my eyes slowly, my lids heavy with liquid. His image is a little blurry, so I blink the rest of the tears back to see him clearly. And I think my heart leaped a good twelve feet from my body when I saw the care on his face. I'm immediately reminded of my father who once showed a similar look.

No one, besides my dad, has ever given me such a concerned look…

"Why were you crying, Marta?"

Even his voice is gentle, like my dad's.

"I-I'm so sorry, Ratatosk. I'm sorry." I plead desperately with him.

He shakes his head no and thumbs my cheek again. "You don't have to be sorry for anything. Nothing whatsoever. It's ok to be emotional sometimes. There's nothing wrong with expressing how you feel."

I clasp a hand around his wrist and blink back another set of tears, leaning my face onto his warm palm. It's such a comforting warmth, as opposed to the chilling skin of my mother's bony hands (the hands that hurt me).

He's still brushing away the tears on my face, our knees still touching, and his warmth surrounding my entire being. For the first time in a long while, I feel loved.

How did I go so long without it? Without this feeling...?

"Marta…was it those idiots that made you cry? Were they the ones who made you sad?" He sounds concerned. But there's a tinge of anger in his words.

I just nod my head in affirmation.

"Those bastards..." he mutters under his breath.

For a split second, I feel his hands stiffen and his eyes smolder with emotion. With an emotion that sort-of reminds me of a fire breaking out.

I've never seen such a look cross his features before. Not even during that time we almost got into it when we first met. Sure, he was irritated then (snarky at most). But he looked really mad right now. His eyes said it all. Not to mention, the deep scowl on his face.

He wraps his hands around my shoulders and pulls me tightly to his body. I was startled by such a bold move, holding in my breath because I was afraid to shatter this moment if I did.

"It's ok now, Marta. I'll protect you from such things." He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly through his nostrils. "And like this, I won't be able to see. So please…please don't cry alone? Come to me whenever you feel down. I'll protect you."

My heart swelled with his words. And that was all it took for me to burst out sobbing again.

I leave school to head towards my house like usual; walking through the chilling autumn winds and carrying a heavy heart. The same thoughts running through my head like always.

I was worried about the mood my mom was in today, what she'll hit me for this time, what friend she brought over (if any), and if I'll be able to attend school tomorrow after the day with her.

I was worried about the time I would be allowed to finish my homework, if my grades were decent enough to keep me from repeating, if my teachers had any suspicion of what I was going through, and how the students will treat me tomorrow after the humiliation I went through.

Same worries as ever. Nothing different about that.

But I'm also worried about the thoughts running through Ratatosk's head as we embraced on the floor of the hall. He was silent during the whole time I poured my heart out in crying, only embracing tighter when I started choking on words I meant to say, but couldn't. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry, but I was also thankful he was comforting me. But the words were lost with the crying. So I figured it was hopeless trying to say something and just settled for more crying instead.

But just being held like that gave me a sense of peace and security. It felt like the cruel words and painful attacks I've always endured wouldn't be able to hurt me if I was in his arms.

I was falling more and more into like with him. And I don't know where the feelings stop either. But I hope to cherish these few moments for the rest of my life, when after Ratatosk is taken from my life or when he decides to give his heart to another (which I'll most likely cry over. But still). I don't need the grandest of happiness' nor do I need to be treated like I'm at the top of a pedestal. If all life is willing to give me is his friendship, then so be it. I'll take what I can get and make the most of it.

Needless to say, I'm gonna have to learn to become accustomed to my heart jack hammering away each time he's around.

My mom, upon return, was sprawled over on the couch, a beer mug in one hand that dangled off to the side and a turned over photo in the other. I carefully pried the mug from her hand, laid that same arm over her stomach and went about pulling the picture from the hand on her chest. She stirred in her sleep when I tugged on the object, causing me to stiffen. But she stayed asleep nonetheless. So I went about my task again, more gently this time in case she woke up from the feeling. A few more tugs and I finally managed to get the photo free, turning it over to see what she was looking at.

I felt my eyes mist over.

There, dressed in a white collared dress shirt and hair neatly pulled back in a pony tail, was my dad. He was smiling brightly against the blue sky and floral scenery. He looked younger in this photo, which means this was taken sometime before I was born. A date, printed in ink, was written on the lower corner, indicating that, in fact, this was taken before my birth. Four years to be exact.

I fingered the image with gentle caresses, like the ones he's always given me but isn't here to give them now. My eyes welled up with emotion. But I tried to fight them back as I stared at his serene face, the back splash of colors heightening his gentle features.

A lone tear trailed down my face.

Oh, how I missed his presence in my life. He was the ray of light in my life, always offering to help me in dire (or mostly less dire) situations and providing me with an abundance of his love. I was never in short supply of it. But then he left my life and the dark clouds loomed over. Even with the sun up, I couldn't find my sunshine.

I guess I have Ratatosk to thank for providing a shroud of light in my darkened world. But I still miss my dad immensely.

My mom stirred again. So I placed the photo on the end table and bolted up the stairs, as quietly as possible, before she awoke to see me standing over her. But then, to my utter disappointment and fright (not to mention, bad luck), I tripped over a step and fell over with a loud thud. I gasped in a strangled voice when I heard my mom mumble my name from the living room. The couch creaked and the shuffling of feet was heard right after. I couldn't help but hold my breath in anticipation (because, come on, I couldn't possibly run up to my room and feign innocence, acting like I didn't cause the noise she heard).

"What the hell is your problem?" she sneered at me when she saw my body slumped over the stairs.

I promptly got up and stood facing her, wringing my hands in nervousness. "I-I accidently slipped over a s-step. Sorry." I told her in my normally nervous, meek voice.

"That's not what I'm talking about, you conniving bitch."

I was struck confused. "W-What?"

She pulled the photo I was looking at moments before from her pocket and waved it angrily in front of her. "You were fuckin' touching this, weren't you?" She pointed an accusing finger at me. "Weren't you!"

I stiffened.

"I-I-I…" I was at a loss for words. What was I supposed to tell her? That I was looking at it while she was knocked out?

"And did you think this was yours to look through? Huh? Did I tell you, 'Hey Marta. You can take a look at this personal photo that belongs to me' or 'Marta. You wanna invade your mom's privacy and look at her photo'?"

"N-No." I squeaked out, my lips trembling in fear.

"Then what the FUCK gave you a reason to be snooping around like that?"

I wrung my hands harder. "I-I didn't mean to s-snoop at your picture. I was just h-helping you get comfortable when I saw it. I didn't m-mean to l-look. P-Promise."

"Bullshit!" She stomped up the stairs, looking savage in all her livid glory. I instinctively brought my arms over my head when she neared me, holding a shaky hand up.

"You bitch!" she yelled out, her hand lunging for my head and pulled me down over the stairs. I tumbled down step after step, pain pounding away at my helpless body. I felt myself black out for a bit, for I didn't register myself reaching the floor till after a while of laying there. I struggled to get up, only to flinch from pain to my side and dropping down again. I tried again and got the same results, to my dismay.

From my angle of laying forward, I could only see her feet descend the stairs ever so slowly. Her movements proved to tease my already erratic emotions as I watched her feet get closer to the floor, snickering quietly as she did so. Being afraid of what she planned to do, I shut my eyes tightly and tried to get into my 'happy place'.

I can tell you now that it wasn't working like I would have wanted it to.

My body started shaking as my mom walked down those last steps. Her feet stopped an inch away from my face.

And my breath hitched.

"You like snooping around my stuff, Marta? Do you?" she spat out.

Her left foot pulled back and swung hard against my side. It caused me to cry out, eyes going wide as saucers.

"Mom (cough, cough). P-Please. Please st (cough) op."

She swung her leg towards my side again. "Don't you talk back to me! You better have more respect if you know what's good for you!" And another kick was delivered.

"S-Sorr-ah!" She kicked my stomach. I felt tears pooling around my eyes and the familiar head rush kick in. It just hurt too bad to hold back.

An image of my incident with Ratatosk in the hall replayed in my mind as she rounded me with another blow.

Breath, Marta. Take a deep breath, hold it in, and release.

"What's the matter, huh? Pissin' your pants or something?"

I didn't move, didn't scream, just laid there with my eyes shut tight and concentrating hard on the words Ratatosk told me. Like before, I struggled to get my breathing in control. I forced myself to clamp my mouth shut and hold in the breath I took in. I gave it a few seconds before releasing it and repeated the process again and again. My mom kept spitting venomous words at me, giving me the needed time to catch my breath. And after some time, I managed to level it out. I was getting oxygen running through my head again, heartbeat not thumping as crazily before.

"You're a fuckin' waste of space! I knew I should have just given you away when I had the chance!"

She kicked me again, sending me rolling across the floor and hitting my back against the wall. But I managed to keep my breathing in check.

Now open your eyes.

I cracked both eyes open to see my mom's body looming over my own, glaring daggers from her constantly narrowed eyes.

I'll be honest when I say that the sight of her angry face made me inwardly flinch, not to mention my heart dropped to my stomach. My breathing picked up a notch as I continued staring up at her through my bangs. I wanted desperately to crawl to a corner and ball up like the coward I've always been (because it's natural, second nature to all I've gone through). I felt small again, as insignificant as the dirt wedged between the soles of my shoes, unimportant in her eyes, and wished for her to just get the beating over with so I can peacefully slumber the pain away. The pain was most unbearable. It felt like acid searing through my veins and bleach to raw skin, my mom's cold personality like the air that makes it burn. My body was reverting to it's normally scared behavior as the time ticked away in my mom's eyes.

But I attempted to stay strong regardless of my fear. I have to take those first steps towards courage and overcome the weight of my burden, even though I'm well aware I brought this upon myself for ruining the family. I just…I just had to try.

"I-I'm sorry, mom." I told her, forcing my voice to come out a little louder and more confident (despite the slight chatter of my teeth).

"Oh, so now you're sorry?" she said in a snarky tone. "Like I'm gonna fuckin' believe that."

"I-I (gulp)…I'm really sorry, mom." I said again. I tried picturing Ratatosk's confident demeanor and attempted to play the same behavior through my voice. And it probably worked…a little.

"Well, isn't this amusing?" I saw her lift a foot up for a moment and felt a raging pain on my back the next. I stifled my cry using my hand. "Someone's gaining a backbone now? Didn't think I'd see the day you talked without fuckin' stuttering like a retard."

I felt more tears bud at my eyes very quickly.

"But that could be a problem. I guess I'm gonna have to fix this before it gets worse."

She yanked my head up from the floor and stared me square in the eye with a sinister look. Her hand pulled back and came flying down towards my face. I was fighting to keep my eyes from shutting.

I had to stay strong. I had to stay strong. I had to-

The doorbell rang loud and a man's voice boomed through the door. Her hand stopped a couple of inches away from my cheek as she averted her gaze between the door and me.

"Go to your fuckin' room." she said threateningly, dropping my body on the ground.

I stared in shock, unable to believe she let me go like that.

"I say go! NOW!"

That's all it took to shake me from my thoughts as I bolted up the stairs in a haste, not bothering to look back and see who the visitor was. I ran into my room and stayed by the doorframe to hear for anything downstairs.

I heard a man's voice and my mother laughing over something he said. I was only able to make out some parts of their conversation as I strained my ears for anything more.

"…Oh, Robert. You're too kind."

"And you…lovely…I know."

"And you…that's great."

"Yes."

"…daughter?"

"Her? She's sleeping…have a number in case."

"Good…let's go."

My mom let out one more giggle before I heard the door shut, leaving me in silence once again.

I let out a sigh of relief before retreating to my room; my solace. I slumped on my bed and just sat there, staring at the bare wall in mild haze (I wasn't allowed to decorate my room, because that meant I was a 'bad' girl).

My body hurt, but it was bearable. I could still sit properly if that was any indication. I wanted to kiss that man's feet for ringing the bell when he did.

But it didn't take any of the pain away. I could still feel it all around me.

But I just can't believe Ratatosk's words came in handy when they did. Because for whatever reason, I was able to speak a little clearer and look her straight in the eye like I did. It was almost like…like his words gave me a boost of courage. And I feel some sense of pride for not crying out when she kicked me numerous times (and they weren't soft taps either).

I was strong for the first time. I little braver. A bit more like the person I used to be.

A tear rolled down my cheek.

"I-I was brave. I really was."

More tears came flooding down my cheeks.

The familiar sticky feeling in the back of my throat returned.

"I-I finally looked her in the eye. Ratatosk was r-right. Hehe…he…(sniff)."

I furiously wiped both cheeks dry, smearing the substance and a little of what was coming down my nose.

"Stupid. You can't be c-crying like this. You have to stop. I h-have to stay strong."

…please don't cry alone.

"I have to stay strong (sniff, hic) because Ratatosk didn't want me c-crying alone. I h-have to stop this." My voice quivered as I spoke. My eyes flooded over like a dam.

And without fail, I was crying my heart out.

I was crying out because of the hurt my mom gave me when she came back from her date.

I was crying out because I was beat too bad to start my homework that night.

I was crying out because some of my classmates gave me funny looks when I passed them in the hall.

I was crying out because Ratatosk kept his word and protected me, silencing all the classmates from that one particular class from laughing at me (they looked scared right after) and holding me in his arms after school when I felt the urge to cry again.

I was just crying my heart out without the shields up.