A/N: Guess what? I just had to write the next chapter, I couldn't wait until I'd had a review, writing really does give you a buzz! Please write a review; I would love to know what you guys think
Chapter 2: Father.
My mother had passed away while I was just a few hours old. At aged two, my dark brown hair was now ravening. I was still pale as anything, apparently just like my mother. My father looked nothing like me; medium-brown hair, tanned skin and emerald-green eyes, with a perfectly toned body. I was black and white, nothing more. My clothes were of many bright colours, although they looked dull and dirty, due to lack of being washed. My father just couldn't cope without my mother around; he struggled just to put a meal in front of me once a day. Instead, he would just buy sweet supplements, and we would eat those. I never slept, I simply couldn't. My father couldn't look after himself, he was always tripping over things, how was I supposed to go to sleep knowing he could get hurt? We also had no hot water; the income we received went straight on beer and other smelly things that I must not touch. Apparently it's called "weed", although I thought that "weeds" were unwanted plants that grew in your garden. I was lying on the mattress on the floor, cuddling my filthy blanket (it was the only comfort that I had) when my father stormed into our flat. A drunken mess, and he reeked of that "weed" thing.
"L Lawliet, disgust of a son, how you can be mine is another question, you've gone over your allowance for the month, daddy dear has no money left for his special drink, and you know what that means?" I gulped. I knew all too well what this meant, even if I was only two. I had £5 a month to last me; everything I needed for the month would be bought for £5. From food to clothing, no wonder I didn't have clean clothes and was malnourished. I felt his large hand come into contact with my small, innocent face, the burn throbbing through the whole left side of my face. The punch was next, that had knocked me to the ground, the pool of blood surrounding me, and my fragile body throbbed from being knocked down. I curled up into a ball, what I always do to "protect" myself, although this just made him angrier. "You coward!" His voice was crashing through my ear drums; he even woke up the neighbors.
I sighed. This was typical behavior of my father, even more so that it was my third birthday tomorrow. I remember my last birthday all too clearly. I looked like my mother, I had all of her features, and I was even as pure as her; that was my father hated me. I reminded him of my mother, his wife; although what hurt the most was when I was told that I was the reason mother wasn't here. He said that I was a murderer, me, an innocent two year old, and a murderer? My father told me that if I wasn't born, he and my mother would be leading a happy life, fulfilling all of their dreams. No child should have to hear this, regardless of age. That was where I got my lack of emotion from, of course I did care, but after witnessing that, being the victim, it hits you like a tonne of bricks.
Soon after being threatened and beat down, I smelt gasoline; father kept it in the cupboard by the basin, and I was instructed not to touch. I felt the cool, wet liquid being poured over me; it was honestly soothing on my throbbing body. Father began coating areas of the flat in this liquid, I wondered why, as any child would. How was I to know everything that I knew was going to go up in flames? He lit his lighter, the one he used to light his "weed", and threw it into the bathroom. The orange source of light flickered, the heat from the fire overwhelming, I thought that I was going to pass out. I feared for my life; something wasn't right here, I sensed the danger. I started to yell, the realised that the door was left open. The entire flat began to fill with thick, black smoke; I struggled to see where I was walking. I found my blanket (there was no way I was leaving without my only comfort) and proceeded to walk through the thick smoke, and out of the door.
My father had already fled; well I couldn't see him anywhere. By now, the alarms had been raised and all of the other residents were exiting the block of flats, worried and panicked looks on their faces. One of them, a kind old lady, saw me sitting on the floor alone, wearing nothing but my trousers and cuddling my blanket. She scooped me into her arms, and carried me away from all of the commotion, realising that I was badly bruised, cut, and covered in gasoline. She placed me down on the grass, and told me to stay put. I did as I was told, only to pass out shortly after her leaving.
I remember waking up in the back of a big car thing, lying down with funny-looking green men peering over me.
A/N: well, that's chapter 2 done, and I'm already starting on the third! I nearly cried writing this, L, hurt? No, those two words should never be placed in the same sentence. Anyway, please review, it would be most appreciated! :D Thank you to the person who gave my my first review, as my account is not yet 24 hours old, I can't reply to you, but thank you so much! :D