Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Spikes Story: The Meeting of the Alchemist ❯ Anger ( Chapter 1 )

Okay, so my friend said I had to say that I don't own the FMA characters, though this story is mine so don't think about stealing it.

And I know I can't spell if anyone notices anything wrong, sorry in advance.

 

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I was happy for the first half of the year. Then again, most little kids are at that age. I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just turned three, and my parents were actually paying attention to me.

You see, they were usually busy with their own affairs. And, they both liked the block parties. They had a bit of a temper too. And, a lazy side; our house was a mess and we ate take-out constantly. I hated that after awhile. I mean, how long can you eat Chinese Food before you get sick of it?

Other than that, we lived in a quiet neighborhood, in a nice house in the middle of the place. It was any child's dream: a big back yard to run in, a mini-playground, a tree house, and possible friends within walking distance of my house. Even the preschool was nice.

It was my birthday, and they let me go to the park. I tried to join in a game, but the other children ignored me. I looked back to see my parents talking to a man. He was tall, with black hair, and was in a dark blue trench coat. I found the coat weird, though it was early spring, it wasn't too cold.

I also thought it was weird he was wearing gloves and showed my father his watch. It was a nice watch, but why show it? Father had a reputation of stealing things. Whatever that guy said to them, they took me home right then. It didn't matter. I wasn't having fun anyway.

I don't know what had happened, but I could hear them fighting from my room. And I heard things being thrown. My room was upstairs, and hearing glass break under my feet wasn't reassuring. Especially when I heard mother scream. It wasn't a scream of being shocked, it was blood curdling.

I heard my fathers angered steps coming up the stairs and I hid in the closet. Now that I look back, that was the dumbest thing I did. Not only did he trash my room looking for me, when he did find me he was furious. That was not a good thing.

He pulled me out of the closet by my arm and threw me. I slammed into the far wall, and had no time to recover before he grabbed me by the shoulders. The air was forced out of my lungs as he hit me back against the wall. I barely got a breath in when he slapped me across the face.

I couldn't understand his enraged babbling, but I heard my name a few times. He was swearing like a madman, and his words became harsher as he dragged me down the stairs by my wrists. I saw blood in the living room as I was thrown past it. I hit the potted plant in the hallway, breaking it.

So I was dragged outside covered in potting soil and cuts. And the neighbors kept their distance as I was thrown into the backseat of the car. I was able to hold in my tears as father got into the car, still enraged. Imaging a little kid going through all that, and knowing not to cry.

The time between my house and the lab was a blur. I was thrown over to the guards there. And they threw me into a cell. I blacked out.

 

I woke up in the cell. There were blood stained bandages on my arms and face. There was only one window in the whole cell, and I was too short to look out of it. From what I could tell, the window was barred shut. Even the little window in the door had bars on it. The light looked like it was about to short out, too.

A mans face appeared in the doors window. “We have some plans for you, little one.” He hissed.