Author's Note: I actually wasn't planning to continuing this... But it's been over a year and I've seen all your reviews about continuing, and they've inspired me. I'll warn you; updates might be spaced apart because of my school work, but I will try to make each chapter worth it. I really don't know how long I'm going to make the story but I'll see where it ends up.
There will be no more rape in this story, by the way. Only flashbacks and mentions of it. If that disappoints you... well then... sorry? ._.' THERE MIGHT BE A SEX SCENE. I DON'T KNOW I DON'T WANT IT RUIN THE DEEPNESS OF THE STORY YOU KNOW? Post your suggestions as reviews. I really will probably take a lot of your ideas into consideration. This chapter won't be too long. Just consider it a prologue after the prologue.
The school psychologist sat idly in his chair, scribbling something down on his notepad as the student sat in silence on the other side of the room. His foot was tapping nervously and he gritted his teeth irritably at the 'no smoking' sign hanging next to the door. Of all the places in the world, why couldn't he smoke in school?! The whole place felt like Hell itself, minus the fire. Just looking at that bastard therapist stressed him out.
His hazel eyes darted between the clock and the door. "Can I leave now?"
The wannabe therapist glanced up from the notepad, staring critically at the fidgeting blonde. "We still have 10 minutes left, Mr. Heiwagima. You haven't spoken at all."
The stoic teen clenched his fists as if to warn the tight-assed dickwad not to mess with him. The dark-skinned, glasses toting man did not have to be told twice. Even he feared Shizuo Heiwagima.
"That's it for today then," he uttered, smoothing down his greasy black hair. Shizuo sprung up and darted towards the door. He heard the man yell something after him in a nagging tone, but he didn't bother to stay and listen. He escaped into the hallway just as the morning bell rang. The long, winding school tunnels were like highways jam packed with obnoxious drivers using whatever lane they wanted. Shizuo didn't have to worry much about being bumped into. People avoided him like he had the plague, but he didn't mind. He actually preferred it that way.
The morning classes were always the easiest. When lunch came around, though, Shizuo started to feel a constant, nagging pain in his heart. Next period, he'd see a familiar face he'd come to despise. His hatred was based on fear and regret, but he'd never tell a soul his true reason. Whenever he got near the guy, he'd get flashbacks of his own traumatic experiences. All those classes and help sessions for his PTSD throughout middle school had meant nothing now, because that little pest had returned. Izaya Orihara had come back to haunt him just as his life had been healing from its scars.
When Shizuo first saw him, he nearly ran. All he could see was his father as those crimson eyes burned into his rigid form. His mouth was locked shut. How could he ever apologize with Shinra there, introducing them as if they had never met? His shock subsided quickly and was replaced with confusion. Izaya was smirking and clapping as if he didn't remember at all.
Suddenly, Shizuo snapped and the voice of his father whispered in his ear.
Why should you feel sorry? I don't feel sorry and neither should you.
And for the first time since his sixth grade year, Shizuo complied with his father's wishes.
The first thing that left his lips since that faithful day was not an pained "I'm sorry," or a heartfelt "Forgive me." No, not even close.
"You piss me off."