A/N: Hello!

Just putting up the first chapter along with the prologue.

Enjoy! :3

I wake up

It's a bad dream

No ones on my side

I've been fighting

But I just feel too tired to be fighting

Guess I'm not the fighting kind

-Keane 'A Bad Dream'

I don't know why I'm so stubborn.

Heredity maybe?

I don't talk, not even after Zaraki asks me to.

I think I'm waiting for him to crack.

For him to give up like everyone else does.

If he gets impatient enough, he'll sign off my 16 weeks out of pure frustration.

16 fucking weeks.

That's four fucking months. My whole summer and the beginning of my junior year.

Maybe if I just sit here, my hours will go by faster.

Then I can get back to my sorry excuse for a life.

"Y'know, even if we sit here all day, you won't get time off until I sign for it," Zaraki states.

Fuck.

Something told me that wouldn't work.

"Hm," I grunt in response.

"Are we gonna move forward? I still get my fucking paycheck either way, but not for avoiding my job."

I can only hear my breathing.

He doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand how much I don't want to talk.

He doesn't understand that I don't think I can.

I don't think I need to, anyway. I don't think I'm crazy.

Well, maybe I'm a little crazy, but that's my own goddamn business.

"I can't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about." His voice softens but I still say nothing. "Look, Grimm—" I flinch unintentionally and swallow my saliva.

"Don't call me that," I almost whisper.

"Why?"

"Just...don't."

He writes something down.

"Okay. Grimmjow, I don't think you're sick. Honestly, you're just like me when I was your age. You just need a little self-control. I can't fix your problems. But I can help you find some peace at least."

"How?" I scoffed.

"I don't know yet." He's telling the truth. I can tell. "But we can find out. Just tell me."

"Tell you what?" I sit up and ask.

"Anything. Everything. Whatever is on your mind. Tell me your whole story." Zaraki gestures over to the couch near the window again and I look to it.

This is a total waste of time.

"You swear you won't tell anyone?"

"I can't say shit unless it's crucial to your health or the law. But even then I might not say a word." I swallow my pride and stand. I make my way over to the couch and try to get comfortable.

Laying down helps.

I feel like my mind kind of levels out when I lay like this. I sigh heavily.

"You sure you want to hear the whole story?" I turn my head and ask him.

"We'll start from there."

...

I feel like it started around birth. Yep. That far back. I had both loving parents, and a pretty good life. But even as a screaming, shitting baby, I knew something was wrong. I'd cry and cry all the time. Like I wasn't ever happy.

I feel like it was a sort of premonition.

You know how you're not supposed to remember anything when you're a baby?

I remembered everything.

They always used to talk about what a good looking kid they made. Especially dad.

I loved my mom. Can't really remember what she looked like, though. But I didn't sense a problem with her.

But when I was around my dad, things were different. When I got my very first baby tooth, I broke it off biting his arm. Then I cried again. As I got older, I didn't treat him as bad. We got along well enough, and when I was a little older, I figured that things were tense because they had me at a young age.

Maybe he was still learning how to be a good dad.

Oddly, I remember lots of strangers too. When I was a baby, they'd be in my room all the time. I don't remember faces or voices, but I remember looking up at them from my crib. People would stay for hours and just look. Didn't know why, I was just a baby. When I was around four, they started taking pictures. Nothing much, just me lying on my bed, or even doing my preschool homework. They'd talk to me, about me, about my homework, if I needed help.

"No thank you," I'd answer in a squeaky-ass voice and keep tracing my shapes. They talked mostly about my hair for some reason.

I didn't know.

Things were still tense around dad. I tried to stay with mom most of the time. She was so gentle and sweet. I looked nothing like her, but I didn't care because she was my mommy. I hid behind her always. Like she could protect me from some invisible evil.

Oh, how naïve I was.

It was almost my seventh birthday when things got strange.

"What are you doing?" Dad's hand was on mine.

"Helping you write. Can't have chicken scratch, can we?"

"I guess not..." I didn't argue. His hand was too warm as it pulled mine along. We wrote my name in a fine trail of cursive. The 'w' ended in a perfect curve.

"Good job, Grimm," he ran his hand too softly through my hair then walk away when mom came into the kitchen.

It was weird, but I didn't tell her.

For my birthday, I wanted to go out with mom. Only her. But he had to come too. I had to sit by him for everything. I think mom figured out he was acting weird because they argued that night. Hearing it made me angry. I stayed in my room when they shouted at each other. Then things quieted down. I could hear mom sobbing, and his voice was softer, as if he was comforting her. Her eyes shiny, she told me she had to work late. I went to bed early since I didn't want him to tuck me in.

I was sleep when my door opened.

He shook my shoulder. Harder and harder until I woke up.

"Hm?" I was tired and had trouble falling asleep. It was summer time and the heat was rediculous. I didn't bother putting on a shirt. His eyes watched me as I sat up, the sheet falling from my torso. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Weird.

"Hey, Grimm. Have a good birthday?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I guess," I said through a small yawn.

"That's good," he patted my leg. "Listen, can you help me with something?" He asked.

"With what?"

"A secret mission."

I was such a stupid fucking kid.

"Really?" My eyes lit up.

"Yep. But I have to test you first. Do you think you're ready, Grimm?" I nodded. "Can you help dad?" Another eager nod. With a smile he picked me up and sat me on his lap, my back to his chest. His hands were warmer as they rubbed my stomach and pulled at my pajamas. I didn't like the feeling.

"What—"

"You have to be quiet, Grimm. It's a secret mission, remember?" I nodded again.

"Okay."

"Shh..." Something was stiff in his lap.

I didn't know.

I was so young.

Just a stupid seven-year-old.

He...He...

...

I stand up and rush to the trash can near Zaraki's desk. I grab my knees and bend over, my stomach heaving. He moves to assist me, but before he can my throat burns, and everything comes up. The ache in my throat won't go away, and I feel like crying. Tears brim in my eyes but I don't let them fall.

No one can ever see me cry.

My whole body is shaking as it tries to recover.

"God...he wouldn't stop touching me...stop fucking touching me..." I mumble hysterically.

Thanks for helping daddy out. You passed the test, Grimm.

I throw up harder this time.

"Jesus fuck, Grimmjow. Stop," Zaraki rubbed my back in circles as I wheezed. "If it hurts, stop fucking talking about it."

I can't.

"It didn't stop there," I say, staring into the trash can of vomit. "People came. They paid. Just to touch me. My hair, my body. Then it went further. If they paid enough..." I cover my mouth in fear of puking again.

Mom must've heard me screaming.

She must have.

She saw me.

I saw her crying at the door the first time.

But she didn't stop it.

She didn't stop any of them.

...

After he touched me, I didn't eat at all. I started the 1st grade not talking or eating. The adults thought I had an eating disorder, brain damage even.

Basically.

The other kids would tease me and call me 'Blue Goo,' on account of me puking up one time in class just thinking about it.

But they didn't know. None of them did.

They covered my mouth because I wouldn't stop screaming.

I kicked him, but he held my hips down.

"One feisty kid ya got," the bastard chuckled.

I heard my mother sob.

"Just hurry up," dad said with a scowl and hugged mom.

They left me in there after taking the money.

Why?

It hurt so bad.

My mother cleaned me up everytime. She'd wipe away the blood and residue off my body.

Give me a warm bath.

Sing to me.

Hold me.

Lull me to sleep.

Even in all this, she was a mother.

But I couldn't sleep.

After dad...I never slept.

And if I did, it was only if I passed out from exauhstion.

That was the only circumstance where I let myself rest.

At least I'd be sent to a hospital, somewhere I could be watched.

No one could touch me.

Five years.

On and on, it went unnoticed for five years.

Dad bought me a bike for my 12th year.

We had enough money now.

I'd wanted one for a long time, since I was 5. I already knew how to ride one.

I did have one friend.

Can't remember his name.

He taught me, so I didn't need training wheels.

Dad took me to the park to ride my new bike.

What I hated the most was that they tried to make everything fucking normal.

I wouldn't touch the damn thing.

We were there until it was dark.

I was suddenly up against a tree.

My shirt was being fondled upwards.

"You've grown up so well, Grimm," dad whispered. My throat closed up. "Your body is changing." His hands touch the newly grown hair in my pants. "Beautiful."

Nope.

I kicked him.

I kicked his face, his stomach, his dick.

Everywhere.

Then I got on that motherfucking blue bike and hauled ass down the street.

I could hear him calling me.

His voice almost made me lose my balance and fall.

It sounded so near.

But I wouldn't look back.

...

"Fucking hell..."

Yeah. Rough, ain't it?

"..." I stopped talking after that. I watched Zaraki write. But I didn't mind. He said he wouldn't tell anyone.

"Still don't think I'm sick?" I ask, my voice hoarse. His face hardens.

"Absolutely not."

There's a knock on the door.

"Zaraki-san? Your 7 o'clock is here." That prick from the lobby says.

"Reschedule," he instantly replies.

He wants to hear more.

But I don't want him to.

I get up and walk out of his office.

I told him.

Everything.

I made myself vulnerable.

It's the worst feeling.

Poor Grimm.

Therapy eventually helps, though.

So, should I continue? Let me know!

R&R, please!

~EMAE