Paper Moon

Chapter Four

A Reason

Third Person

"There is something you must know, inspector." The woman sitting beside the man within the car as they drove away from the Strife residence flipped through an old book. He looks at her briefly as he waits at a red light.

"What is it, Martine?" He asks, turning left as the light turns green.

"I think those people were lying through their teeth. Listen to this book." She turns the page to a rather old entry. "'In his eyes all I can see is hatred. He's cold and cruel, and he kept repeating Why won't you die? as he beat me. I can't feel my hand anymore, I've tried blocking his blows but it does nothing to help. He's strong when he's drunk. And mother won't help me, much as I wish she would. She's too busy getting her wallet emptied. Am I even allowed to wish for a better life, or is that reserved for someone who deserves it more than me? I must have done something really terrible in some past life, hurt someone so much that I deserve this now. And that knife, it still sits on my dresser, taunting me. I held it to my throat again, too, but my hands shook so much and I couldn't do it. I can't give that man his wish, much as I want to. It's a curse I'll die from, I can't continue like this. I'm so scared of him that I'm avoiding him now, and I lock my door to make sure he doesn't try to give me another beating as I sleep, or try to choke me, though I know he always beats me slowly and painfully. Giving me a quick end would be too easy, would it? Maybe that's why I can't make myself do it.

'And no one is here to help me get through it. I don't want to go on like this. Someone, anyone would do... just get me out of this hell.'" Martine takes a shaky breath and wipes her eyes. "There are many entries like this... it looks like a diary."

"Are you sure it's not a fictional story by a teen who thinks he deserves better?" Luther asks skeptically. In response she clears her throat sarcastically.

"'It's really painful today. I came home early from school, mostly because I was shoved quite painfully into a locker by the usual gang of teenagers and it hurt me much more than lately, so I cried out, sure that a bone had snapped. They laughed and did it again, causing me to strike back out of reflex and hit one square in the jaw. And though I know it did no damage, they told the nearest adult they could find, and lo and behold, you're going home Strife.' I can't believe he takes the time to tell a joke while in pain. 'Father was furious, as he always is when I get home. He took my left hand and threw me onto the ground. I backed up into the corner of the room, but all that did was help him keep me in one place as he starts to kick me. I didn't cry out, I don't give him the satisfaction of sound or tears, but when I get into my room, I always curl up into the corner and I start to cry, trying to stop the bleeding, the pain. I try to hide the blood on my bed - my wounds open up at night most times - and on the ground whenever I try to use that knife, but most of the time I can't. There's a bloody handprint on my pillow I can't get rid of, and I think my left hand is broken. I wrapped it up earlier to help it set properly, but by the gods it hurts so much. The ink is running off the page, I'm crying again. Remembering all of this is hard, and keeping it with me is so much harder. I hope there's a solution soon, because I don't know how much more of this I can take before I end up dying at my father's hand.

'But I'm starting to loose hope.'"

Luther stays silent as he pulls into the police station, hands on the wheel.

"Go see the chief with that. Find out what he thinks about this." He suggests, and the woman gets out of the car in response.

Sora

I play with my cat as I wait, string dangling in the air as he tries desperately to catch it. I can hear the water running of the shower, giving me comfort in knowing that he's at least still here.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Fluff." Yes, my cat's name is Fluff. But he's very poofy and you have to dig to find his skin, so I think it's alright. He meows at me.

"It's weird..." I sigh, dropping the string. He jumps on it, tail wagging as I roll onto my back to look at the ceiling. The water shuts off, so I get up with Fluff in my arms, putting the string back into his toybox. Shortly after Roxas steps out of the bathroom linked to my bedroom.

"Are you sure it's alright if I borrow these?" He gestures to the clothes he's wearing.

"Of course! And plus, like May said, you needed new clothes." I point out, sitting on the couch. He sits beside me.

"I know... but these are yours. Don't you need them?"

"Nah!" I put Fluff down in between us as I dig in a small bag May got from a nearby store. I take out the leatherbound book and the ballpoint pen and hold them out for him to take. "Here! Since you lost your old one..."

He smiles, gingerly taking them.

"Thank you..." He examines the cover. "I will make great use of this. And I'll let you read it, too, if you want."

"Sure!" He opens it carefully and looks at the pages gently. It's about eight at night, and usually around that time I either draw or play the piano, so I take out my own book, but this one has blank pages, save for the first dozen or so. I take a pencil and prop my legs up on the couch as I lean the book onto them, drawing carefully. Out of the corner of my eye I can see he immitates my pose, but instead he writes.

Roxas

I had to think a moment before I decide to start, which is a first for me. I've never not had to do that, because I usually just write about the same thing. But this time, I think I'll enjoy dragging this one around with me.

I can honestly say that today has been very different. Though it started out like the regular routine that I've been used to, but for once, I got a gift on my birthday. But not from mother or father... no, I still feel an empty feeling towards them, like a stranger I'd meet on the street. I met a boy my age named Sora Hikari. I knew a little about the Hikari's beforehand, but never that Ansem Hikari (A.N.: Oh ew that is kind of mortally disgusting... Ansem as Sora's father... but I had no one else in mind, aheh...) had a son. Turns out that Sora's father hid him from the world because he was ashamed of him. But I honestly see nothing to be ashamed of in Sora. He's kind... a little emotional, but really... he's probably the best friend anyone could ever ask for. He is my best friend, even if I've only met him this morning.

It was a very funny sort of meeting. A poor boy, beaten to the brink of death, sitting in an alleyway to wait out the school day, and a rich boy, who very well tries to save him. If anyone would have told me this, I would have told them that they're lying, but it's the truth, and I am enjoying my time here, and I am smiling, laughing even. I can't remember the last time I did that...

And to make matters better, this time I don't have that blasted book with me. I left it at home, and if they find it, so be it. I don't need it to rule my life. Maybe someday I'll re-write it completely and show the world just how cruel some people can be, since I remember every word. But right now, I want to let those memories dissapear. I'm hoping again, and this time I'm hoping that this is the break I wouldn't kill myself for.

I close it gently, the leather feeling foreign underneath my hands as I smooth out the cover, thinking to myself. I look at what he's doing, and I can say I'm litterally blown away by the drawing.

It's of the sunset we watched. Every shadow is in the right place, making it look like it can leap out of the pages and come to life at any moment. You can tell there is wind because of the trees that are at the edges, their leaves following the summer wind. And then, leaning onto the railing, is the two of us.

He made the shadows more dark for us, my face slightly noticable from the viewpoint. He got the small, barely noticable unless you look a few inches from my face, scar right underneath my right eye where my father once threw glass on and it pierced the skin deeply. I had to stitch it myself, which can be quite painful without morphene. And there is a dull light in the eye you can see on my face. Suffice to say he got it pretty well.

And the drawing of him is just as astounding. The spiky brown hair on his head is leaning into the wind, his left eye noticable on his face, as his face is turned a little towards the drawing of me. His eye has a shine in it like none other, really. And the sky itself looks like if it will catch fire.

"Wow... you weren't kidding when you said you enjoyed drawing." I tell him with a smile. He looks up, a little startled, looking at me.

"Ah... thank you." He gets a little coloration to his cheeks as he smiles, then looks down to his drawing again. "I have a good interpretation of people... but it's the first time I draw something like this, really."

"How come?" I ask. He hands it to me, and I flip to the beginning, looking through the pictures he's drawn.

"I don't know. I don't usually make a background, nor do I usually add such fine details, but I was making the background of the sunset, and somehow I added us there as well." I give it back to him.

"You should be proud of your skill. It's amazing." I stretch my arms a little, wincing at the slight jolt of pain.

"I've always wanted to be an artist, really." He admits, looking at the closed book on his lap. "My father wants me to make something of my life, as he so kindly puts it. But he wants me to go into Archeology, but I don't want to do something I'll hate."

"Don't listen to him, alright?" He looks at me. "He can't force you to do anything you don't want to do." (A.N.: OMG The most ebil idea ever just popped into my head. Mouhahahahahahahaha, I cannot wait for that chappy to arrive!)

He hugs me. He seems to enjoy doing that. But frankly, it's not so bad. I find it quite comfortable, like if we fit together like that. I return his hug with a smile, which his response is to press his head a little more to my collarbone. My stomach does a flip everytime he does that, but I don't understand it, so I don't pursue it.

"I think it'll be a lot of fun with you around." He admits. I laugh once to myself.

"I'm hoping it will."

Third person

"'...And right now, I'm more worried about hiding that knife wound on my leg. How he thought this would make me cry in front of him, I don't know. But it sure made me cry when I took it out of my leg after his torture was done with. It's the first time he's done that to me. And I know it will only continue.'"

Still third person

As if he was afraid his newfound friend would vanish within the night, Sora holds onto him, blissfully unaware of it, as was the blonde next to him. Having no other bedrooms, Roxas shared his room, but both of them could care less. They're both curled up on their sides, hands tightly held together.

Damn, you will all kill me for my ebil idea (maybe). And no, ebil is not a typo. I tend to have fun with words like that, and I like saying ebil. It makes things more fun =3

Stay tuned, I might write more soon. I'm enjoying this story quite a lot (plus it's good practice while I think of how to continue Fall Into Your Sunlight.