CHAPTER 13: WHAT LIES UNDERNEATH

The antiseptic stung, but Cloud didn't flinch. He stared ahead with unseeing eyes as his mother tended to his wounds. Oh, how he wished that he could disappear. Nothing mattered anymore. The scene played over and over again in his mind as if branded to his brain with a hot poker. Mr. Lockhart's words looped again and again and again.

"Why did you bring Tifa to a place like this?! What the hell is the matter with you? What if she dies?!"

Jim had led a small group of adults to the place where Cloud and Tifa had fallen. At first, feelings of relief and hope had given him the strength to rise from his place beside the girl and try to walk, but his marred knees buckled and he fell crumpled backward once again when he heard Mr. Lockhart's voice booming with anger and accusations. Cloud had tried to tell him that he had only been trying to save her, but fear and the shock of what had happened made the words hold fast to his throat. His head had been foggy and he felt disoriented and sick as Tifa's father scolded him, unbridled fury in his voice. Mr. Ackerman had carefully picked Tifa up, cradling her in his arms and checking her wounds. Cloud was sure that Mr. Lockhart would've had much more to say to him if he had the time to. But the adults were anxious to get Tifa seen by a physician and hurried to return to the village through the valley. Her hair was matted against her head where the blood had begun to dry. Cloud had shakily stood to follow, bloody knees burning with every step he took.

"Cloud…"

His mother's voice snapped him back into the present. Keeping his head low, he avoided eye contact. Instead, Cloud focused on watching cotton gauze being wrapped around his knees. Dirt had stuck to his face where the tear tracks had dried. His mother had stared in shock when she had seen Tifa's limp little body being carried into the house next door and cried when she saw her little son limping behind them with blood soaking into his socks and over the leather of his shoes. Everyone thought it was his fault that Tifa fell and got hurt. He ignored Mom's outstretched arms to follow the adults into the Lockhart house, angry tears streaming freely. Desperation replacing shock, he had finally worked up the courage and tried to tell them he wanted to help her, that he had followed because he was worried about her, but no one had listened. Cloud had hovered until Tifa's father had shouted at him. The doctor had said Tifa was in a coma and no one knew if she would wake up. Her prognosis did not look good and Cloud wasn't even allowed to see her.

He was so weak. Because he was weak, Tifa was in a coma. If he was faster and stronger, he could have kept her from falling. A hero like Sephiroth would never have let that happen. The future seemed so bleak. If Tifa woke up, she'd hate him forever for letting her fall. If she didn't wake up…

"Cloud!" Claudia tried again and the boy slowly raised his eyes to look into her own. "Talk to me…"

After all that had happened, seeing the comforting softness in his mother's blue eyes was just too much. The world was suddenly so much more unfair than it had ever been and the boy wasn't sure what he had done to deserve such misery. Before he could stop himself, Cloud's face crumpled into misery. Against his will, a wretched whimper tore from his throat. Claudia embraced the boy tightly as he dissolved into pitiful sobs.

"It's alright, I've got you. I'm here," Claudia whispered, smoothing her hand through her son's hair. Her son's knees would heal over time, she knew. But she wasn't sure if his heart ever would.

… … …

It was frightening how easy life became meaningless. With such ease, his very reasons for living were being torn from his hands no matter how tightly he tried to hold on. Just days ago, he was the head of a picturesque little family. A beautiful, loving wife and a happy-go-lucky child were what every family man dreamed of and Brian Lockhart was no exception. When he married Lia, they both shared dreams of a large family—maybe five or six children—to dote on and raise up.

When his wife had been pregnant with Tifa, they awaited her arrival with giddy anticipation. But immediately after their daughter was born, Lia had suffered a spell of depression that lasted a few weeks. It had frightened him, but the doctor said that post-partum depression was common in new mothers and not to worry unless it advanced to a severe state. It hadn't, and Lia was back to her old self soon enough: singing to her newborn, smiling with that sparkle in her beautiful eyes and even teasing him from time to time. A year or so before her death, Lia had suggested having their second child but the fear of having his wife suffer another bout of depression made Brian shy away from the idea for the time being. Now he regretted that decision. He'd give anything to have had a little son to advise and pass on his carpentry skills to. It was with anxiety that he realized he really didn't know the first thing about raising a girl to be a woman—if Tifa survived, that is.

Brian found it difficult to move from his place lying listlessly on his bed; the grief weighted him in place. He had hoped that Lia would overcome her ailment, too, yet the love of his life was gone. She had been taken away from him quietly in the night as he slept beside her. There hadn't been any struggle, no gasping for breath or ragged coughing. His radiant bride had quietly slipped away without warning and he was waiting with grim anticipation for his sunny little Tifa to follow that same path.

That damned bastard child had led her up toward the mountain summit—on the day of Lia's funeral for heaven's sake! Somewhere in the back of his mind rationality tutted that the little blonde misfit was just a well-meaning child, but anger snuffed out that small voice like a candle in a wind storm. That time he had gotten his daughter lost in the woods those years ago should have been enough of a warning. Claudia had brought the pale little wraith over to apologize and Brian had turned them away with a wild fury. Their empty words wouldn't change anything. How could he live each day without his gentle wife?

Her knitting basket with the unfinished blanket lay in the corner, waiting for her to complete it. The smell of her perfume lingered on their bedsheets. Her hair brush sat on the bedside table. It was just too much to bear.

His beautiful, foreign bride had given him a vision of a bright future: a big family and a happy home. Her serene spirit and patient heart ad always eased his troubled mind. And now what was left? His darling daughter lay unmoving in the room next door and Brian found it easier to just accept that she'd never wake up. If he didn't hope for her return, he couldn't be disappointed when she died, right? It had been four days since she had fallen from the bridge on the mountain pass. Each day that stretched forward in stillness made it harder to hope that she would recover. The girl's dark hair against her pillow was a stark contrast to her pale, lifeless face and it was so hard to look at her. His little, vivacious Tifa…surely death would quietly come for her as it had for her mother.

… … …

It was good for him to get out of the house, Mom had said, even just for a little while. Cloud knew she meant well, but his mother just didn't understand. He wanted to stay home, away from accusing eyes, pointing fingers, and hushed whispers where he could hide and pretend that he had a different life. Facing reality was unbearable these days and he did his best to weave a fantasy life where he could stand being Cloud Strife. She had sent him to pick up a newspaper from the printing press and a few odds and ends from the dry goods store. He had kept his head lowered the entire time, cautiously avoiding eye contact and trying to stay out of sight. Cloud was just about to reach the door to the printer's shop when he heard it: the worst sound in the world.

"Hey, Strife!"

Cloud stiffened, afraid to look in the direction of Thomas's voice. Oh, no. Not here! Town square was busy at this hour of the day and his bullies were sure to make a scene. What could he do? Experience had taught him that they would intercept him if he tried to run and so he remained frozen in place, resigning himself to his fate. In moments, the trio had surrounded him.

"So there you are! You've been hiding in that shack of yours for days. It's about time you showed your face," Jim sneered.

Cloud gulped, tightening his grip on the paper bag in his hands. He could feel them closing in—getting closer and closer. He kept his gaze on the dirt and gravel between the cobblestones and the scuffs on his worn shoes.

"He looks so guilty!" Jason crooned. "I always thought you were too much of a pansy to do anything like that. You sure are messed up, pushing Tifa off the bridge!"

At that, Cloud's head snapped up in surprise. He knew that Mr. Lockhart had blamed him for leading Tifa up the mountain. But did everyone really think he would do something as unspeakable as push her into the gorge?

"I didn't push her!" Cloud cried, surprised at the sound of his own voice. "S-She fell. I wanted to help her…just like you. But you ran away."

There was a blur to his right as Thomas lunged forward, knocking the bag out of Cloud's hands. Spools of thread and little spheres of pink soap rolled out onto the cobblestone. When Cloud spun to face him, Jason tugged the tiny blonde ponytail tied at the base of his neck and his head was jarred backwards. Disoriented, he didn't see Jim rounding to his back and before he knew it, Cloud had been pushed to the ground. The shock of his tender knees hitting the hard ground made him cry out.

"Not so fun when someone else does the pushing, huh?" Jim taunted.

"You're so pathetic. How could Tifa spend so much time with someone like you?" Thomas said as he moved to stand in front of Cloud.

Cloud stood slowly, body trembling. His heart thrummed wildly in his chest and his breaths came in short puffs. Don't hit anyone. Don't hit anyone. Don't hit anyone!

"If she wakes up, she'll never want to see you again after what you did!"

The thought of the shocked expression on Tifa's face when someone told her that he had mercilessly shoved her into the canyon broke something inside him. Blue eyes flashed with rage and he snapped.

With a roar, Cloud sprang forward, upper cutting his fist into Thomas's chin. Startled, Thomas fell backwards onto the street; he never had expected Cloud to fight back! Like a predator, the blonde pounced upon the bully, drawing back his fist to slam it into Thomas's nose. Cloud felt detached from himself; he wasn't aware of when he started to scream and didn't feel his arms swinging with wild punches. He had lost control. Instead of running to their buddy's aid, Jim and Jason stood there, speechless. That little runt was beating Thomas with a fury they had never suspected him to be capable of.

Cloud had never felt such a rush. Hearing his bully's cries of surprise and pain had flipped a switch somewhere in his brain. His fists were numb but blood rushed to his arms and adrenaline pumped through his biceps. No more hiding his anger at the unfair circumstances of his existence. No more holding back pain and disappointment behind a carefully crafted mask. No more struggling alone against the isolation and loneliness. No more submitting to years of torment from these punks who never gave him a chance to be anything more than their plaything to torment. All of the restraints had broken as his bloody fists came down again and again. This would show them. They couldn't think he was weak, now. He'd show all the townspeople that he wasn't a pathetic little waste. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault!

A sturdy hand grabbed the back of Cloud's collar and hoisted him backwards as a dazed Thomas attempted to rise to his feet, blood dripping from his nose and split lip. Jim and Jason looked up with awe and horror: Master Zangan! He held Cloud up so that his feet dangled above the ground. Cloud, still blinded by fury, struggled to get free. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks and his breath hitched through angry sobs. Thomas's blood stained his knuckles.

"I saw what happened here," Zangan said with contempt in his voice. "Get out of here before I tell your parents about your disgraceful behavior. Go on—git!"

Embarrassed, Jim and Jason helped a disoriented Thomas walk away and they all beat a hasty retreat. Once the boys were out of sight, Zangan lowered Cloud to the ground. The boy scrubbed at his face, too upset to form words between his uneven breathing and hiccoughs.

"Calm down," Zangan said as he stooped to pick up the fallen bag of goods. "Let me take you home."