Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ A Cry for an Angel Like Mine ❯ I Felt the Faithful Blow of Today: My story begins with the pain ( Chapter 1 )

Here's my new swing on things. Yes I'm starting another, which I hope to finish. It deals with a tortured soul, dealing with an invasion to her body. It's rather saddening at the beginning, but it should get a lot lighter, possibly. This will be a lemon. That means lots of sexual content and nekkid wrestling! No.. not really.. but lots of sex. I'm a sad person I know. But hell! It's fucking fun to write! Okay and for the blah blah disclaimer. I own certain characters in this story. Yes I do! And I own Karen too! Muahahaha! Anyway. I do not own Final Fantasy, which is the only thing that comes into play at the moment. Irvine is so qwee! Ok, now off with the rambling and onto the fun!

I felt the faithful blow of today: My story begins with the pain.

I opened my eyes, cautiously, drearily. I shut them quickly after, blocking out the sun, blinding light. This morning seemed unlike the others. I was of course still sleepy, but my insides felt whacked out of place. The rush of heat, the chocking feeling. My feet hit the floor as quickly as the unease washed over me. Loss of fluids I wished to keep, tears I wished to not fall. I remained in my huddled position for an extended period of time, how long, I do not know.

I heard my mother's voice soon after, just barely making out what she had to say. School I would not attend that day, although I rather didn't like the place anyway. I never truly fit in. The freak in the outrageous attire is what I would always remain. Staggering and weak, I pull myself from the floor. The cool water hits my face in a rush, dripping off my fingertips and chin to the sink below.

The reflection I see scares me. It is not my own. An impossible shade of gray hair, seemingly dead quartz eyes. This is in no way me. I have always been a brunette, eyes as blue as the sky, features as tan as my sister's. The woman I see is so pale, so deathly white, so unearthly. I stare harder at this, possibly a creation of my mind, brought on by the headache, which wrenches my mind. The whiteness of downy feathers catches my gaze, anything to distract me from her crooked smile, a grin as wicked as hell itself. When my eyes land on hers again, we stare at each other in confusion. I see loss deep in her cold glance, what pains her I wonder. I'm peeled from my thoughts by a familiar scream. My sister has seen. She stares baffled at the strange occurrence in the mirror, toothbrush falling irregularly from the corner of her mouth. My mother enters soon after, she to stares, but more in horror. I can tell immediately this woman, now my reflection, doesn't like to be stared at in such ways. The glass cracks, shatters into tiny shards that fly in many directions.

I awake again. I was asleep? White walls leave me feeling constricted, unsafe. My eyes focus slowly on the inhabitants of the room, I soon match the blue suits as nurse outfits. Which only means I am in the hospital. How did I end up here? What happened? I move to sit up but my body won't respond. It's only then do I feel the wrenching pain, see the deep gashes on my arms. How much of my body do these wounds cover? Are my mother and sister in the same predicament? I suddenly feel sick once more, but unable to lift my body I only choke on my own bile. I turn my head, feeling my strength fade with each upturn. I feel dirty, disgusted, and even impassive.

I have yet to regain my composure, although it has been three weeks since my first occurrence with her. I have luckily been accepted back into my household, but feel a prisoner inside it. I am not allowed to go anywhere, not even leave my room. My mother is not tolerant at all, but then she never has been. Ever since father left she has been a hateful, harsh person. I am use to the blows when I do not give things my all. But my recent and current beatings I cannot take.

It's more a crumble of spirit, rather then body. My sister does nothing about it of course, she's too afraid to. I don't blame her; she's much younger then I am, and also the favored child. I know mother would never harm her on purpose. Although it hurts me to come to this resolution I feel no jealousy toward my younger sibling. It is after all, not her fault things ended up this way.

So I run away, as far as my legs can carry me. I have no money, no food, only my clothes that will soon get dirty and moth eaten. I walk until I feel as if I could collapse in the street and wither away; of course no one would notice. I stop by a house, hoping its residents were kind. I am dying of thirst. A woman answers, and I tell her of my need. She understands and I'm filled with a feint hope.

We talk, and I learn of her current status with this house. It is indeed a wondrous place. I clue into nothing of where I have come from, only that I am wondering alone. She offers me leisure for the night and I am very much thankful. I slowly meet the many members of this building, learning my way around.

There is a man, how I despise them, but he seems different. His smile warms me, excites me. I watch him converse idly, taking in his features, to lock them selfishly in the back of my mind. He is beautiful, a real cowboy, gentle ladies man. This is why I will stay distant. Not because of my loathing but because of my fear of more suffering.

This man I watch from afar, lost in the wave of his chestnut hair, drowning in his polite gestures. He tips his hat, and this time for me. I know I am blushing, but have no way to hide it. So I stand like a fool in the middle of the room as he trails off down the hall. I smile for the first time in ages. He is winning me over, this I know for certain.

The day lingers on. it is amazing to think it has only been one afternoon. We talk for a while, about what I do not remember. It really doesn't seem too important. There is a wager between us. We start the simple game of air hockey; each goal won a loss of clothing would follow. I am not too gifted at sports but I still manage to stay in the win since I wear more articles then he does.

Our game ends soon enough, him having business to attend to, so I'm left with my black undergarment and shorts in tack. I place my clothes on once more, continuing on my search about the house. The people here are indeed intriguing. So many different types and styles.

I retire early, like always. I feel so drained most the time. Sleep doesn't seem to phase the feeling either. It is her. She does this to me. I don't feel anger toward her however. I feel sorrow. My dreams are always haunted by her. Making me dread sleep, but it's something I must deal with.

I am unaware my visions are both a clue and a warning. There is so much blood and destruction. Ririth is what her predecessors call her. The angel of death itself. Each dream clues me in a bit more, but I have yet to find the reason why she is trapped inside me. If they're even is one. I feel so helpless against her, is she my demise, or my rescue?

Okay then… that was my first ever first person fic. Okay, to clue people in… if you need it. The main character is in fact a fan character. Although I'm not sure if I will use her name in this or not it is in fact Loki. This fic is based on one of my many rp's with my lovely friend Karen. (Love ya Katzchen!) It's a many fic. Dealing with original, real life people and crossovers. I may add more into it, involving some of the other couples and characters we throw into our enlightening rp's. This actually seemed to run a lot smoother then some of my other fics so I might post on this one quicker then the others. Hope to hear from you. But of course, I plan on only continuing with this one if I get reviews. I need to know if first person is a good method for me, or else I may not continue. And that would suck, no?