Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Surviving - My Style ❯ Prologue

Surviving - My Style

Athour's note: Cheezy title… Comes from Ruki's and Ryo's songs… (Digital Surivor and My Style) I finally caved and wrote a straight fic… RyoxRuki, to be more exact. Darkfic ahead! Dark, angsty, trippy… With child abuse of all kind… Uhm, yeah. Weird and evil, that's about it.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Too bad, I want Ryo! T_T Oh well… Gotta get myself a Ryo-plushie!!

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Prolouge

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:: Ryo ::

Was it the only reason? I can't help but wonder as I pace along the street, eyes on the ground. Was it the only reason? I had told everyone that the reason I stayed in the Digital World for almost a year was to keep both my eyes on Cyberdramon so that he wouldn't go berserk among the humans. But was it the only reason? A picture comes to my mind. A picture of my dad. Go figure. I scowl, I shove my hands down into the pockets on my blue jeans and trudge on. Onwards. Onwards. Something inside me yearns to get away.

I'm still scared of people.

That's a laugh, isn't it? Me, Akiyama Ryo, The Legendary Tamer, known nation wide because of my Card Battle-skills. I'm afraid of people. Yes, a laugh indeed. I don't think anyone knows, though. Monodramon doesn't know, Cyberdramon couldn't care less. Takato doesn't know. Juri doesn't, I don't even think she ever noticed me much in the first place. Hirokazu and Kenta… They're sweet, both of them, and completely oblivious. Really sweet. Jenrya… I haven't interacted a lot with him, to tell the truth. Even if I had, I don't think I'm bright enough to make out what a guy like that is thinking, even if he *is* four years younger than me. Shuichon is in the same category as Hirokazu and Kenta. And then there's Ruki. Ah… The little Digimon Queen who's too proud for her own good. I doubt she knows my hidden fears. She isn't stupid, that she isn't. But still, she hasn't managed to penetrate my outer self. She still only sees the stuck up know-it-all that I really can be at times. She's amusing, in her own way, all though she can drive me up the wall sometimes. The girl really has a mind of her own, and usually tries her best to prove it. And sometimes she just acts stupid. I don't understand her… Oh, yeah… I sometimes want to be the one in control. It's a bad habit of mine… I control my digimon with a lazer whip for crying out loud! Okay, so I'm weird. Big deal. I'm still afraid.

And I still want to get out of here.

:: Ruki ::

I know me and mom has gotten closer. I know that, and I actually like that. But I still don't understand myself. Why did I agree on this? Another freaking photoshoot. With that sleezy guy behind the camera that leers at me. 'That's it… Good girl…' he says. Good girl? Right on. I wonder if he wants to do it with me? Or with mom. Or with us both? He really gives me the creeps. And there's something about cameras. They scare me. They're like big, gawking eyes that you never can run from. And then the thoughts that come. Who is it that stands behind the camera. What is he thinking? Does he want to hurt me? Is he bored? Is he enjoying his work? Is he enjoying me? He'd better not.

"Ruki-chan, darling!" What did I do now? I look at him, not blinking. Darling? Up yours, mister.

"What?"

"Ruki-chan, darling… Will you please try and smile a little? Your mom said you wanted to do your best, so why aren't you smiling, honey? Come on… Just one smile… You're so pretty, Ruki-chan, why let that sour face ruin it?"

Becasue I don't feel comfortable around you, you creep. I want to say it. I don't. I keep quiet, I force a grin to my face. What the hell am I doing? Really? This is just weird.

After the session, I wipe my face with a towel an blink in confusion as I notice how wet it is. Was I really that nervous? Guess I was. I put the towel down and place myself in a chair. I hear someone walking up beside me, I can smell from her perfume that it's mom. I close my eyes; I don't want to look at her right now.

"Ruki", she says, her voice low. "What's wrong? Honey, you seemed so… unhappy. At the shooting. What is going on? There… there isn't any new trouble, is there?"

I wish it was. I miss Renamon. I miss her so much it's difficult for me to think about her. I want her to come back. If something was up, then maybe she could return… But no. That's over. That's done with. A childhood friend, my closest friend, is never coming back. Because life is back to normal. Dull. Empty. Normal.

"No", I answer mom. "No new trouble."

I get up from the chair and I leave. Just like that. I leave.

:: Ryo ::

"Good for nothing punk!"

I duck, the bottle roaring above me and into the wall behind me. I hear the glass shatter and I feel a few droplets of beer splashing on my cheeks. Probably got some in the hair as well.

The man at the table glares at me, his dizzy eyes barely making me out I guess. I don't know what I should do. Should I go over to him and try calming him down? Should I just leave, like I usually do? I turn around and start picking up the pieces of the broken bottle. I manage to cut myself on my index finger. A sharp stab of pain, then it dulls out to a low throb. Blood trickles down and it begins to sting. I make a face and try to wipe the finger off on my pants. I hear him get up behind me, amazing he can walk in his condition… I turn around and look at him. I know I look scared; I always look scared when he's drunk. Why? Because I am scared. The only times when I'm not scared is when I'm in the Digital World. Because then, I am the one in control. And if I'm not, I will be in a matter of time. Out here, in the Real World… I'm scared. Constantly. Because life always run me over.

My dad always run me over.

Drunken bastard.

And when he's not drunk, he's always cold. Demanding. Unpleasant. Still, I prefer that. When he's sober I can predict him. Somewhat. When he's drunk… Never.

"I'm sorry", I mumble.

"Whuzzthat", he slurs and I look up to face him. He stands right in front of me now. Looking down at me. Evil eyes glaring. And then…

He strike at me. Once. Twice. I'm not surprised. The third time he manages to tear my lower lip open. Piercing pain. I have to get out. I have to leave. I want to leave. Everything. Drunken hands begin to remove my clothes. Drunken hands pry my legs apart. Drunken breath in my face.

Dad, stop. Please.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't.

He can't do this. I am a boy, so he can't do this. But he does. I close my eyes. Leave. I have to leave.

To be Continued…