Tragic Magic

Chapter Two: Resistance.

*Six Years Old*

Fang woke up to yelling; aware that he was in yet another new home. He stretched and yawned quietly, knowing that if he made even the smallest noise they'd beat him. He inwardly groaned, thinking about how if he was in a caring family he'd be sleeping soundly and eating enough for his high metabolism. He shook his head; no reason to think of something impossible.

Fang's jet-black hair was messy from sleep and his black eyes were glazed slightly, letting you know he was just waking up. He took in his surroundings. He was in a cramped basement with a low ceiling, and walls which were shedding paint. He didn't have to crouch yet, but he knew if he waited a few years here that he'd soon have back problems. The basement had no bed and no bathroom; just some newspaper for a toilet and a blanket for a bed. There were no pillows and absolutely no comfort. Fang panicked a bit, knowing that if they kept him, he'd be living like this. However, his thoughts soon left him when he heard someone coming down the stairs.

The footsteps slowed, stopping in front of Fang. "Nicholas, I'm disappointed in you. You fell asleep right when we got here. You're supposed to do work." Fang's new father said, looking at him with an expression of disgust and blue eyes full of hate.

"But I don't want to work." Fang said innocently, looking straight into his eyes; Black against Blue.

Blue won, obviously.

"Nicholas, go clean. When I get back, I expect it to be spotless. If it's not, well, you know what will happen."

Fang didn't respond at first, but ever so slowly, he nodded, not trusting his voice, tears in his eyes. He knew that he could not escape from this Hell-Hole without some pain. He was going to have to toughen up and do some major rule-breaking if he wanted out of this house.

-[**]**[**]-

Max tried to pry the woman's fingers from her arm, wincing when they only tightened. Her foster mom's fingers were too familiar to her skin. Her arms had dents from her, as did her legs and even her head.

That woman was the only woman who would even look at her, let alone adopt her. Max hadn't been adopted since she got abandoned; only adding to the fuel of her raging depression. She was only six, but she knew what depression was, and she knew she had it. The woman seemed nice at first, telling her that her name was Linda. But that nice attitude she went by when she was signing papers was gone in an instant. When they got into the car, she immediately smacked Max's face, causing a bruise to form in the blink of an eye.

From there on Max tried to get away, she really did. At first, she crawled through the windows. Then, she took out the trash and tried to run. After that, she didn't know what to do. All of the windows were barred, and all of the doors were locked. They had a lock on the top of the door, so Max couldn't reach it even if she tried.

Linda's abusings' came more frequent now-a-days. Max would get hit when she wasn't doing anything wrong. Her mother would come home drunk and start beating her, taking out all of her anger on Max. Max didn't know what to do. She couldn't run, couldn't hide, and she couldn't fight back. She was going to have to live with it.

She found herself thinking, Why couldn't my parents' just have kept me?

-[**]**[**]-

Iggy was living with his Aunt. His Aunt, Marge, was nice and she was like a real mother to him. She made him cookies and she taught him how to cook. Soon, Iggy was cooking like a pro, even at the age of just six years old.

Cooking and baking were Iggy's escapes. He would go to those whenever he felt sad, guilty, regretful, or even depressed. Cooking helped him in many ways. He loved it.

He still had night-mares of his family. He heard their screams, their groans, their moans. He heard the car smashing into the other car. Glass-shattering, Metal grinding against metal. He heard everything he heard when it actually happened, but reincarnated to sound worse in those dreams.

That day, Iggy was taken to the hospital in a police truck. He only had a few scrapes and bruises. He didn't lose anything that really mattered. Of course, except his sight.

At first, they said that he was only temporarily blind. He waited weeks and even months for his sight to return. It never did. When he went back in, they said that they had made a mistake. He wasn't temporarily blind, though he wished he was, he was permanently blind.

But Iggy knew that would happen. Even at that age, he wasn't stupid. He knew after three months that it was permanent. He didn't have a problem with it most of the time, but sometimes, it would keep him up at night.

He despised nighttime. All he saw was darkness, all the time. He didn't want to be in darkness physically, too. Also, that was the time when his worst thoughts and fear and experiences came to life in his imagination. That was when he got so scared he would cry out to his Aunt, or when he had such a bad nightmare that Aunt Marge had to come in and listen to him scream all night. She said that if you woke someone up from Night Terrors, that it would become worse.

At first, Iggy, believed her when she said that. But now, after the 10th Night Terror in a row, they were getting worse. He didn't know what to do, or what to try. He told his Aunt about them, but she was as helpless as he was.

Soon, she started taking him to a psychiatrist. She was told that they could help him, and she wanted him to have help. She desperately loved and cared for him, and it pained her whenever he would scream into the night, tears dripping down his horror-stricken face. She knew he needed help, and she intended to get it for him.

After about a month of psychiatry, Iggy was doing better. He wouldn't wake up screaming every night, and he found himself actually happily dreaming a few times. The psychiatry was definitely helping, but one cooking malfunction gone wrong, and they came straight back.

He was baking a cake. It was Aunt Marge's birthday, and he wanted to surprise her. He knew she loved cakes, so he baked her one. It didn't take long for the fire to start. At first, Iggy didn't know everything around him was on fire, but then, he felt it. He smelt it.

"Auntie!" He screamed, trying to search for a way out without getting burnt. He couldn't see anything, obviously, and he didn't know where a clear space was.

"Yeah, Igs? What's that smell, sweetie?" She replied, and he heard her getting up and walking to the kitchen.

"IGGY!" She screamed, just as he passed out, coughing.

A/N:

Sorry Guys!
I got shipped off to my Grandpa's for the weekend and I couldn't access the chapter because I saved it on my computer, not his.
I almost have Chapter Three done, so I'll post that when it's there.
Good Chapters take time, just remember that. XD

Alright, well.
Random Question #1: What's your favorite song?

Until Next Time, Y'all. Bye:)

-Andiey