Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Beauty And The Beast ❯ Part Three ( Chapter 3 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Manga-Chick 
For the love of his brother...
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / / Supernatural | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.20.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 7.4K | Visits: 373 | Status: Completed
For the love of his brother...
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / / Supernatural | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.20.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 7.4K | Visits: 373 | Status: Completed
The Beauty and the Beast (Part Three)
Duo was breathing heavily as he looked at his face in the bathroom mirror. His nose was bleeding from where one of Trowa’s fists had hit him. His hair was covered with dirt and various twigs from the ground. His clothes were dirty. His heart felt like it was racing a million miles per hour, and his mind was awash with panic and confusion. His feelings were a wreck, but things were simple–Trowa was his older brother. Trowa was the eldest, and had always been the moody sort. Duo had understood–he’d come from a different orphanage, but he’d seen the older kids constantly passed over in favor of younger ones. He knew Trowa was feeling very rejected by this common-case practice, and had resolved, upon meeting him, that he’d love his adopted brother unconditionally and without prejudice.
No matter what Trowa did; thought; felt; or said–Duo was going to love him and stand by him. Even if that meant Trowa treated him badly. Duo knew Trowa only did it because he was angry–and an angry person was just a person in constant search of something they couldn’t rightly find. Duo wanted to help Trowa in ways that he did not understand quite yet. He wanted to be something constant for him. A sort of pet rock whenever his older brother was in need of a friend.
Of course, Trowa thought differently–but that didn’t mean Duo had to change his feelings. He’d always love Trowa. And today, despite its actions, was no different. He’d chosen his older brother over his friend. He hoped that Quatre would understand. He should–he had elder siblings. Granted, he wasn’t close with them, and didn’t have the same ideals as Duo–but he should understand what it meant when one had to stand by a sibling. Duo was going to chose Trowa no matter what. Because that was the rule of family. Blood was thicker than water–granted, it was adopted blood, but the term was correct.
He studied his appearance in the mirror, and hastily began cleaning. Trowa was sulking in his room. Heero had hit him hard. Actually, he was quite impressive for a twelve year old. Duo had to respect that the soon-to-be-teenager was a strong kid.
But on to the present. Duo had to think of something to say that would excuse Trowa from his actions. Duo was already thinking up a story that would keep his brother out of trouble. Because if they heard that he hit both him and Quatre, they would send him away. He was sure of it. Because older kids weren’t supposed to do that to younger kids.
he washed the dirt from his face, and hurriedly untied his braid, running his fingers through to clean it.
Think, think, think! He thought, staring at the dirty sink.
A kid...a kid they didn’t know had come upon them. Had beat them up because they wouldn’t leave his ‘turf’. Yes, that had merit. Now, if only he could get Quatre to go with the story...he hoped he would, and that he hadn’t told anybody yet. Duo had to see him quickly. He knew Quatre was home by himself. He raced away from the sink, glancing at the hallway clock. He had nearly three hours to use to conjure a story about their injuries. He was NOT going to have Trowa sent away. He’d do whatever it took to prevent that.
He raced out the door, and ran to the three story house that was Quatre’s father’s house. He knew the sisters weren’t home–he prayed and hoped that Quatre hadn’t called his dad. He knocked once on the front door and walked in. He heard the sound of voices from the hall bathroom, and the obvious sounds of a kid’s sniffles and tears.
He hurried over in that direction, footsteps ringing within the largely empty house.
Peering in, he saw that Quatre was cleaning himself off, and that Maria was sitting on the bathtub. Duo winced upon seeing her, hiding behind the doorframe. Quatre’s ghost friends were very creepy–they were silent to him. Duo couldn’t talk with them–but seeing them was enough. Mostly, they communicated to him through Quatre, and didn’t bother with Duo too much.
Duo peered around the doorframe, and gasped–Maria had shifted suddenly, and was standing in the middle of the doorway. Her silent stare held him in contempt, and he clutched the wall with a terrified expression. He wasn’t too afraid of ghosts–but sometimes, they really bothered him with their silence.
Quatre rounded the corner–he walked right through Maria. The girl was suddenly gone, but when Duo moved away from the wall, she was right behind him. The smell of her singed skin and dress made his nose tickle.
But he stared at Quatre in pleading silence.
“Don’t tell on him, please,” he whispered, pleading at him with both his eyes and his voice.
Quatre stared at him, hiccuping. His face was wet with water and soap, the front of his clothes soaked with it. Trowa hadn’t gone light on him–he was going to have some pretty mean bruises tomorrow. They were already swelling. Duo could feel his own re-shaping his face.
“Please? They’ll send him away if you tell on him...”
Quatre was silent–he stared at Duo with a broken expression, and Maria was talking to him. Duo glanced at her, shifting from foot to foot. Was she saying things to refuse him? Or was she helping Duo?
Quatre was shaking his head from side to side. Duo’s heart leapt to his throat; panic raced throughout his body. He reached out with imploring hands, his expression showing his plea.
“Please!” he cried. “I love my brother! I don’t want him to leave! I don’t want him to go! I know he’s mean, and he’s really bad...but he’s my brother! I don’t want him to get sent away! He doesn’t deserve it! He didn’t have a good life! He can have one if we don’t say anything!”
“But, Duo...!”
“Please, Quatre! Oh, please! You’re my best friend, Quatre! I love my brother. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want him to go! Please! Oh, please?! I’m begging you–don’t tell on him. He just needs friends and love, and he’s–”
“I won’t tell.”
“–a nice guy sometimes, and–”
“I won’t tell, Duo!”
“–he–really? Quatre....? You won’t...you won’t tell?”
Quatre shook his head, slowly. Maria looked troubled, looking from one to the other. But she slunk away silently, casting Duo one last apprehensive stare. A door slammed somewhere within the house. Something clattered to the floor in the kitchen. Duo’s skin broke out in goose pimples. He glanced around himself with fear, but Quatre didn’t look scared.
“I won’t tell, Duo,” he repeated in a whisper.
Duo stared at him, violet eyes racing across his friend’s face. Then he hugged him tightly. “Thank you! Thank you so much! We need to make up a story, Quatre. We need to explain that someone else did it....”
“Okay, Duo. But I don’t think Trowa likes me very much. I’m scared of him...”
“I know, Quatre. I know. I’m so sorry. So very sorry...he can be so mean, but then, he could be the best, and I just want to show him that he’s okay...”
“It’s all right, Duo. Come on. Let’s go to my room.”
“Real quick, all right? Because I need to go home to my brother...”
“All right. You’re my best friend, Duo.”
“Me too, Quat. You’re my best friend. We’ll be friends for a long time, ‘k? Even if one of us moves away.”
“All right.”
110101010101100
Trowa was sitting against the closed door of his closet, staring blankly ahead of him. Fiddling with Catherine, he listened to the home sounds of his adopted parents in the living room. He also heard Duo, being his usual rambunctious self, in the same area.
He’d been surprised when Duo had explained that he and Quatre were beaten up by some unknown neighborhood kid for passing through their ‘turf’. They didn’t know the kid. They didn’t know his name, or his features. But apparently, the story had gone like this:
“Me and Quat went outside when Trowa was in the bathroom,” Duo had said breathlessly. “We were going to go for a real quick walk by the stream when this guy comes along, and yells at us for being on his turf! I thought me and Quat would get away, but we didn’t. He beat us up. It’s our fault, mom! We ran off when we weren’t supposed to!”
And Quatre’s story to his father went like this:
“I had thought that me and Duo could go for a walk when Trowa was in the bathroom,” he had said to his outraged father. “But we accidently walked onto another boy’s property. He got mad at us, and we tried to go away, but he caught us and beat us up. It’s my fault for telling Duo that Trowa wouldn’t mind if we walked. It’s my fault that we didn’t get away, papa.”
(He used ‘papa’ for those special moments when his father seemed to crumble at the meekly uttered name. It was accompanied with tears and a sniffle.)
Both Duo’s parents and Quatre’s father held a conference earlier this evening, discussing the horror that had happened to their children. Because the two were so adamant on the fact that they’d run out on Trowa, Trowa was let off the hook–innocent. He’d been so surprised that he quietly agreed that was what had happened. His adopted brother had beamed brilliantly at the fact that he was going along with their story. Quatre didn’t come out from behind his father the entire time.
But the matter of the fact was–Trowa had escaped danger with his actions. He was puzzled as to why Duo and Quatre had made up their story to protect him. In a way, it made sense–they were probably too scared of him to actually tell on him, for fear of revenge. But it all worked out in the end–both parents and father was going to search for this ‘kid’–who, conveniently, was too blah to be remembered or recognized. And because of this, the three couldn’t exactly single out a kid and his family without just assurance that it was him (or her).
Now...his mind felt detached–he couldn’t concentrate on a single thing. He felt listless and weightless, as if he were nothing. Even with his odd visions, in which he could see small shapes rustling underneath his bed, the blankets shifting and fluttering with life, he found no reason to behave normally.
The small shapes underneath his bed seemed to have sprouted teeth. They were grinning in his direction; sharp, jagged edges caught the faint light of his nightstand lamp. They hissed and giggled, high pitched sounds that didn’t alarm him or bother him.
Trowa, Catherine said. Her blank Spider-Man face was pointed at the floor–he set her upright and withdrew some grape Pez from her throat. This just won’t do, Trowa. This won’t. Sitting around doing nothing will accomplish nothing. We need to go out and do things, Trowa. Challenge the world. Make them realize what crimes were committed against you...That people shouldn’t have the freedom to do this sort of thing to other people. Sort of...setting examples...
“How would I do that?” he asked, imagining spandex and muscles. He frowned at the thought.
Do what they do, of course.
“What?”
That man took away a part of you that’ll never return. As far as I’m concerned, nothing in your life will ever be the same. You’re never going to be the same. The head doctors will say their pretty things and sprout pretty pictures, but there’s always going to be pain and torture at the back of your mind. You’re going to relive the entire incident no matter how you look at it. That man marked you for life. What I am saying is, why don’t you show the world what that man did to you?
“I still don’t understand, Catherine...”
Do you really want me to spell it out for you? What that man did to you–the rape, the humiliation, the pain...why don’t you share it with others?
Trowa scrunched his face with confusion. “Like speaking in front of classes?”
IDIOT! Catherine shrieked. She then cleared her throat. NO...others don’t know what you felt Trowa. They don’t know what you went through. They couldn’t possibly know how that man’s dick felt when it tore up your asshole...that you needed stitches because he tore you up so badly...that he made you suck him off after he–
“SHUT UP!”
...I’m sorry, Trowa. But it’s that that keeps others from understanding your pain. They look at you now, Trowa, and see a fifteen year old boy that can’t defend himself. They can’t possibly imagine what you felt that night. I’m just saying, in order for others to understand, that you need to MAKE them. And if you can’t MAKE them, then you should get rid of them. Set an example...And, just for the hell of things, you should just...remove those that threaten your existance...
Trowa removed his hands from his face, staring at the shapes under his bed. Ears were emerging–rabbit ears. The smiles were continuous–ever grinning creatures with jagged teeth and rabbit ears. They gnashed randomly on each other, and on the floor.
Dust bunnies, he thought faintly, thinking of the linty collection of misuse. I have deranged dust bunnies under my bed...“You’re saying that I should treat others how they treated me...?”
Yes, Trowa. Make them understand. MAKE them...start with your parents...They’ve always looked at you oddly, dear. They know what you don’t–they know where you came from, what your parents were like. They keep secrets from you, and keep you from knowing the truth about yourself. They have treated you so horribly–Sam keeps trying to mold you into a younger version of himself. Helen feels as if you’ll never compare to Duo...and Duo...the little mongrel. The snotty little brat...he takes away all the love that’s meant for you. You’ve been nothing but good to them all, and they treat you in this despicable, ugly way. Revenge, Trowa. Revenge is the sweetest thing of all...
“And what about those that...that threaten my existence?”
Those ones...like that little boy...he looks like that man, Trowa. That one should be watched. He could become that man as well–preying on others that are defenseless. Preying on others for the thrill of doing so...you need to watch out for that one. He is your enemy. Duo is your enemy. Everyone is your enemy, and you should hit them first...before they hit you.
Trowa stared at the Spider-Man pez dispenser. Catherine’s words rang clear and cut, and ideas blossomed within him. Ideas he would have never conjured if he had not met her. If he had not met that Predator. Ideas that made him feel warm inside, warm and bright. As if being filled with sunshine. He’d never felt this warm, before.
The DustBunnies under his bed giggled, retreating back into the shadows.
Trowa took another pez from Catherine’s throat. “Revenge...make them understand...Hit them before they hit me.”
Yes, Trowa. Why should you bear all this pain? Make them understand...MAKE them understand! Set an example! Speak up for yourself! Save the world!
“That sounds cool.”
110101010101100
Maria said that I should not go to Duo’s house anymore. That I should not go by Trowa. Trowa is bad, she said. He thought mean things about people–he was thinking of how to hurt them. He hated them. He hated me. I want to tell Duo, but dad said that I can’t tell others about what my friends say. Because they are ‘made up’. But I don’t know what to do. I told dad that I wouldn’t say, but what if Duo gets hurt? What can I do to save him if Trowa hurts him?
I want to protect my friend, but I don’t know how.
“You’re just a kid,” Marcus said. He was really sad when he died. He said he took too much of his mother’s medicine. Marcus is swollen and colored blue around his lips. He is black and wearing Heat jersey. I like his shoes. Someday, when I get older, I want a pair like those. He’s the oldest ghost that I know. “You can’t do anything to Trowa. You’re tiny. He’s taller than me. He’ll kick your ass all over again, kid!”
“But I can’t let him do things to Duo!” I argued. “I don’t want Duo to get hurt! He’s my best friend!”
“Look at you, Quatre,” Maria said, pointing at the hallway mirror. I turn and look at myself. Maria’s standing behind me–she barely has skin on her face and arms. Her dress melted onto her body, and is black in all areas. She would have been a pretty girl, but the fire made her ucky.“You’re just a kid. You can’t stop Trowa from hurting him. And yourself.”
“But I can’t...I can’t let that happen...”
“We can try to help, Quatre,” Marcus said, stooping to retie my shoelaces. “But you know we can’t touch people. We can only move some things...”
“Not even Freddy can stop him,” Maria whispered. “He can touch animals, but not humans...”
“I don’t want him to help. He’ll only help Trowa,” I said.
“Just be careful, Quatre,” Marcus said, straightening. He looked beyond me, and chuckled. Then he was gone. Maria walked into my sister Fannie’s room. I turn, and look over at Noin, who is staring over at me with confusion.
“Who are you talking to?” Noin asked, blinking as she looked at the seven year old. She had sworn she had heard voices...she could swear it! They had been distinct, easily a girl and a boy. But the moment she’d rounded the corner to check on her charge, she saw only him.
Quatre looked from side to side, then back at her. She had to wince once again at the array of injuries on his face. His father had warned her that the unknown kid had done a pretty good job at hurting his son. Currently, Mr. Winner was on the trail for the made-up assailant, going door to door and inquiring about various peoples’ kids. Noin felt the same rage as he had upon seeing Quatre’s face.
But then again, she heard Duo looked pretty bad as well.
“No one,” he finally answered. “I was...making up a story. In my head.”
She smiled gently, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. “But it’s not in your head if you’re talking out loud, sweetie. Are you hungry?”
“Are you cooking?”
“Yes.”
“Then, no.”
She gave a mock-outraged expression, straightening away from the wall. “Are you saying my cooking’s not good enough for you?”
“I didn’t say that, Miss Noin. You did.”
“C’mere, you little brat. I’ll show you bad cooking...we’re going to McD’s...”
“Can we take Duo?!”
“Duo’s staying with his brother, honey. He’s not allowed to come over...”
“Why?”
“He got into trouble last night. His parents are very disappointed in him.”
“Oh.” Quatre blinked as he wondered what Duo had done. Then, he hurried over to Noin’s side, thinking about his current problem with Trowa.
110101010101100
Duo held up the glass jar that held the field mouse captive. The slightly gray mouse was clawing at the glass walls, looking for a way to escape. It squeaked loudly in protest of its treatment as the braided boy crept down the hall toward his brother’s room. Trowa was currently taking a midday shower, and Quatre was hiding outside, on the front porch. Since that day, the blond avoided the older teen as much as he was possibly able. Since Noin had come back, he’d refused to go near Duo’s house–Duo was a little sad about it, but if Quatre was willing to keep secrets about Trowa, then this shouldn’t be bothersome at all.
They had caught the mouse after many tries, and Duo was going to leave it, as a gift of peace, in his brother’s room.
He nudged the door open with his elbow, and tiptoed inside. He thought he heard something scurrying underneath Trowa’s bed, but the mouse emitted a sound that was similar to a human screech. Duo gave a startled gasp and dropped the jar with panic. The glass shattered upon the hardwood floor. The mouse escaped. It scurried underneath his bed.
Fearful that Trowa was going to be angry about the glass, Duo quickly picked up all the pieces, and hastily swept the smaller shards into his hand. The edge of his palm was bleeding and stinging from multiple cuts due to the shards he’d touched, but he didn’t want his brother hurt or angry. He then ran out from his room, and deposited everything into the trash can.
“Damn it!” he cursed, moving to clean his hands in the kitchen sink. After that was done, he retrieved a Snoopy bandage from the cupboard, and applied as many as possible to his palm. Then, he reached into a cupboard under the sink, withdrew the bottle of bleach, and some napkins. He ran back to Trowa’s room, and ran the area with the glass with bleach. Helen had said that bleach killed the HIV virus, and that it should be used liberally if and ever he cut himself in the house. No matter the surface.
After that was finished, he put everything away, and ran out from the house.
Quatre looked up from the decorative stone that Helen had in her flower bed, and straightened.
“Did he like it?” he asked tentatively as Duo ran over to him.
“I dropped it. It’s gone,” Duo answered with a low sigh, wiping his forehead. “It ran under his bed!”
“Oh no...will he be mad?”
“Maybe he won’t notice it. Or he’ll catch it and keep it on his own,” Duo theorized, shaking his head. “C’mon. Let’s go find Heero and the others! Will Noin let you go?”
“I think so. Heero’s really cool, huh?”
“Yeah! Did you see when he climbed that one tree out by Davie’s back yard?! He is so awesome! Man, he is so cool...maybe one day, we can be like him, y’know? All brave and tough. He’s tough.”
“Me, too! He’s always so nice to me.”
“That’s because you’re all little and you cry easily.”
“I do NOT!”
“Yeah huh! Cry baby, cry baby!”
“If that’s the case, Duo, then you’re a farty-poop breath. Because you always stink.”
“Not uh! You do! You’re the one always farting!”
“You do!”
“Not uh! Not uh!”
“HEY!”
They both jumped in surprise at Noin’s bellow. The woman was standing on the back porch, looking at them angrily.
“You get back over here, right now! I told you, you can’t be running around back there unsupervised!”
“But, Miss Noin–!” Quatre cried.
“No ‘buts’!! Get your ass back over here and eat something! Duo!? Did Trowa give you permission to leave?”
“No,” Duo muttered, kicking the dirt.
“You’d better get on home, kid. Before your brother gets into trouble!”
At that, Duo perked. He waved at them both as he hurried home, Quatre continuing to protest Noin’s orders.
Running back home, Duo checked both ways of the street first, then ran across. He hurried inside, hearing that Trowa was still using the shower. Settling himself on the couch, Duo began flipping through the channels, hating to be cooped up inside. He was going to ask Trowa if he could go over to Quatre’s house to play video games when something moved out of the corner of his eye.
With a puzzled expression, Duo crawled over the couch cushions, and peered over the edge. He thought that perhaps it was the mouse, and it had escaped to the living room. If that was the case, he had to find it before his parents did. Cursing lowly under his breath, he crawled off the couch and peered underneath the small space between the bottom of the couch and the floor.
He could see a small shape working itself across the length of the couch, crawling toward the wall. It had to be the mouse. He hurried over into the kitchen, found a large glass cup and the broom, and hurried back to the living room. With a reluctant sigh, he dropped to the floor, and peered underneath. The small shape had stopped, and it looked a little odd.
Too round and too...the field mouse seemed to have grown overly large teeth. But, with a determined frown, Duo poked the handle of the broom in its direction, hoping to scare it into the direction of his cup. The broom jerked in his hand, and a snarl of sorts caused him to reflexively jerk away from the couch, sitting up on his knees. Staring at the broom, which moved in jerking motions, Duo didn’t know what to think or do.
Then...the sound of spitting. Something scurried across the floor, running up the hall toward the bedrooms. Duo stared in that direction, mind blank. That was one big field mouse...
He pulled the broom out from under the couch, eyes widening at the teeth marks that had chewed into the metal. His mouth dropping open, he pulled the demolished handle down to his level, carefully running the pad of his finger over the teeth marks.
“Wow,” he breathed in an impressed manner.
When the bathroom door opened, he jerked the handle behind him, and listened to Trowa cross the hall and enter his bedroom. At the sound of a slamming door, Duo raced to his feet and put everything away. He didn’t want to get into any kind of trouble from his brother. If he found the mouse running around in his room, then Duo was going to know nothing about it.
He resettled himself down on the couch and looked for something to watch.
110101010101100
Noin smiled up at her boyfriend, Milliardo. Tall, handsome, impeccably neat, he was the very picture of wealth and relative popularity. Nearly ten years older than her, he was the first real career man she’d ever taken an interest in. They had been dating for nearly two years, and the romance was awesome. She wasn’t quite ready to settle down just yet, but she planned on settling down with him when she was ready. He was just the picture of all things women wanted in a man–handsome, wealthy, intelligent, charming, romantic–she’d struck it big when she found him.
He was going to take her out, tonight. Which was why she didn’t drive to ‘work’ as she normally did.
Standing on the Winners’ front porch, Noin reach out to tuck long, blond strands from Milliardo’s face. She just called him ‘Milly’ for short.
“How was your day?” she asked.
“The same,” he replied, his voice pleasant and deep. She found that his eyes were so strong, so beautifully colored–sometimes, they were a light ice blue that made her shiver with its intensity. Other times, they were dark and deep, foretelling of the depths he had as an untamed personality. “Not much to talk about. How about yours?”
“Oh, the kid was awesome, as usual. He and his friend are always off and about, doing something that looks fun. I don’t watch over brats, Milly. I watch over very good kids. These are the ones they never show on movies.”
“I’ve never met your charge.”
“Oh, he’s a real sweetie. Want to meet him?”
“When does his father get home?”
“In about a half hour. You should meet him, too. You’ll like him.”
“Sure. Why not?”
Noin smiled, pulling his hand as they ventured through the front door of the Winner’s house. As they walked in, she could feel Milly’s eyes taking in the modern furniture and decorative pieces that were placed throughout the three story. She could hear Quatre watching his usual afternoon array of cartoons, and tugged Milly in that direction.
“Hey,” she said, walking into the living room. The kid looked up at her, then shifted to look at Milliardo. He instantly went still, his head tilting slightly. Noin had to suppress a shiver–that action always made her think of him listening to things that no one else could hear. “Quatre, this is Milly. Remember? I told you about him...”
He didn’t say anything, his eyes growing wide as they stared at Milly. Noin wasn’t sure, but it looked as if he were suddenly very afraid. She looked at Milly, who was smiling down at the child with a peaceful expression on his face.
“Hello, Quatre. I hear you’ve been giving Noin a hard time.”
Quatre stared at him in silence, seeming to have lost his voice. Noin blinked, and frowned slightly at her charge’s suddenly odd behavior. He was displaying all the signs all children had when they were currently afraid and unsure of what to do in a certain adult’s presence. She tightened her grip on her boyfriend’s hand, and looked back at him with a anxious smile.
“He gets a little nervous around people he doesn’t know,” she explained with a slight chuckle. “He’s a really good kid.”
Milly let go of her hand, and lowered himself so that he was nearly eye level with Quatre. The boy’s eyes got even wider, and he pressed himself against the couch cushions. Milly was going to say something when he caught the smell of something burning. He was suddenly on his ass on the floor. The boy was over the couch and racing through the hall, storming upstairs with a loud clatter of sound.
“Quatre?!” Noin called in surprise, looking down at Milliardo with a confused expression. “Did he just push you?!”
“No,” Milliardo answered in the same tone, brushing himself off as he rose from the carpeted floor. “I...I seemed to have lost my balance...”
“He doesn’t act like that around people, Milly. Maybe he’s just tired, or something. He’s a good kid! Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. That was unusual. Does, ah, the kid play with matches?”
“Wha-? No. Quatre’s terrified of fire. Why?”
“I smelled something burning...”
“Nothing’s on the stove...sometimes, the house has that smell. I think Mr. Winner said that the family living here before had a fire somewhere, and the smell comes out sometimes. C’mon, you big, handsome lug. Let’s go outside to talk.”
“Cute kid.”
“Yeah...he is. You should see his friend. His friend’s just as cute. The biggest purple eyes you’ve ever seen in a person.”
“Violet eyes? How unusual. You know, they say people with purple eyes can see things most people can not,” Milly commented, chuckling as he glanced around himself. They walked back out onto the front porch, and took a seat in the outside chairs.
“Why is that, I wonder?” Noin asked aloud, glancing over at Duo’s house. The lights were on, but the parents weren’t home yet.
“Something concerning the color purple...now...about Friday night...”
Noin and Milliardo talked quietly about their plans, occasionally falling into fits of laughter with certain comments directed at each other.
Quatre could hear them as he sat in his room, huddled underneath his bed. He’d never seen Milly before– Noin never brought him over, but she talked about him constantly. It wasn’t professional to bring a boyfriend to work, she’d once said. But ever since Maria had told him that Trowa had been hurt by this man, Quatre was afraid of him. That man had secrets that had his friends worried for him.
Run, Maria had said when Milly was crouching down to talk to him. Don’t let him get you.
He whimpered slightly. He was a big man. He easily overpowered Trowa. What would he do with a little kid like him? The thought was truly terrifying...
He froze when he heard the heavy footfalls. His skin pimpled with gooseflesh, and fear like none other washed over him.
Freddy was here.
His anger was immense. It crowded the air with intensity. It made Quatre’s pulse race with fear and for his breath to catch in his throat. He’d never felt Freddy this angry before. Even the others were missing. He watched as Freddy walked into his room–he wore Nike Cortezes, the sleek shoes whispering over the carpeted areas of his room. He was breathing heavily, a tortured sound out of his ruined throat. Something crashed to the floor–Quatre recognized it as his bed side lamp. Something slammed into his wall–his digital clock. The sheets were pulled off his bed, and the entire bedframe rocked with Freddy’s fury.
The tortured sounds from his torn throat grew into interrupted shouts of sound, and Quatre covered his ears as his night stand was hauled up from the floor and tossed into the outside hall. The mattress was flung away from the box springs. He heard shouts coming from downstairs.
Freddy was furious. He kicked at Quatre’s toys on the floor, tore down the curtains, and pulled the blinds from the window. He was now ripping the closet door off its hinges. Hangars flew. Clothes coated the floor. Shoes were tossed about.
Those sounds continued.
Quatre could hear Noin racing up the stairway. Freddy was still raging. He wasn’t hiding like he usually did when someone was around. Looking up, shaking uncontrollably, Noin watched as Freddy turned away from his closet, and faced the open doorway. He looked over to see Noin racing in, and stop short.
She gave a strangled gasp at the sight of his room.
He wasn’t going to come out until Freddy left. He could still see the other boy’s feet just outside his closet. But he removed his hands from his ears, hearing Noin’s sharp intake of breath.
“QUATRE!!” she shouted, angrily. “Quatre, what the hell?!”
But it wasn’t me, he thought, unmoving from under his bed. He didn’t want Freddy to see him. The older boy was still standing there.
“QUATRE! Get your little ass out here right now, young man!”
“Noin, what’s the–dear GOD!”
Quatre blinked–Milly had just entered the room. He looked over at the man’s expensive leather shoes, standing just behind Noin. Freddy was unmoving, but he was making those sounds again.
Noin turned, and stomped out from the room, shouting for Quatre. But Milly didn’t move.
Quatre blinked at the man’s shoes. He felt naked and afraid. He didn’t want neither of those two seeing where he was hiding. He couldn’t see Freddy past his ankles, but he knew that he was gesturing.
A loud thump alerted Quatre to Milly. He saw that the man was on his knees.
His curiosity at the man’s position prompted him to crawl out so that he could see what the man was doing.
The man, pale as he was, was gray–his eyes were wide. He was staring at Freddy. Quatre knew it. And he knew Milly didn’t see him–and he suddenly knew Freddy wasn’t going to hurt him. For some reason, he knew that these two knew each other.
He cautiously crawled out from underneath his bed, and looked over at Freddy. Freddy was addressing Milly with his gestures and angry expression, never seeing Quatre. Milly was staring at Freddy with recognizance and horror. Disbelief.
As he looked from one to the other, he knew why they knew each other.
Milly was the one who’d killed Freddy.
“I’m sorry,” Milly suddenly whispered. “I panicked. I panicked...”
110101010101100
That one right there, Trowa, Catherine said.
Her Spider-Man face was pointed upward, staring into the underbelly of the Lincoln Navigator. Carefully, Trowa nudged aside the oil line and snipped halfway through the brake lines. It was easy once people knew what they were looking for. Catherine knew what she was looking for. The early morning hours were convenient in that no one would see what he was doing. Everyone was asleep in their beds, safe and warm. It was just him, Catherine, and the DustBunnies.
The small things, round, linty fuzzes of fluff, were leaping around him, skittering with hisses and high pitched giggles. Two of them were positioned on the brake line, gnawing on the spot he’d snipped. Their jagged teeth and uneven edges would prevent the police from thinking that the lines had been deliberately cut. Other DustBunnies were chewing on other various lines. Their teeth marks resembled those of mice. He would never be suspected.
Yes! Excellent job, Trowa. Now, get out. Let’s go for a walk...
Trowa picked Catherine up, and scooted out from underneath the Navigator. He was off and walking down the sidewalk, the sounds of early morning activity filling him with an inner sense of calm.
Remember, Trowa, when they question you, you have to act inconsolable, Catherine counseled from the inside of his pocket. You needed them. They were your safety and sources of comfort...no laughing, smiling, or giggling...
“How do you know it’s going to work?” Trowa asked.
Easy, sweetie...your little friends are going to make it work.
“This sounds really retarded...”
But it’ll get them out of the way, Trowa. And from there, you can start your mission...
“When do I start?”
When you’re ready, Trowa. When they’re out of the way. So far, they are the only ones to stop you. They...oh...it’s that boy’s house, isn’t it?
Trowa stopped, and stared across the street. The Winners’ house was dark, silent, eerie almost. Trowa could almost seen the outline of someone standing in one of the upstairs windows, peering out from behind the curtains. He blinked, hearing Catherine sigh, a melodic sound that was eerie within the early morning silence.
He’s probably in there, asleep and silent...innocent and peaceful...something you once were, Trowa. Innocent. Now you’re all dirty and nasty...but we won’t go there. Just think of it, Trowa. How closely he resembles the Predator...blue eyes, white hair...he could one day grow up and look exactly like him. How would you feel about that, Trowa? When that boy continues to be friends with Duo, and you’d have to see him every day? Knowing that a man like him raped you?
“I’d feel angry.”
Of course...would you want that to happen, Trowa?
“...No.”
Of course, not. You’ve always been a clever boy, Trowa. He’s going to be next. We’ll take care of him next. Accidents always happen to little kids...it’ll be easy. He’ll be your first real victim...he’ll be your first real test...
“What...what would I do to him?”
What do you want to do to the Predator?
“...I want to destroy him. I want to ruin him. I want to see if his insides are as black as I feel...”
Then that’s what we’ll do, Trowa...
“...Make him feel what I do. Make him feel what I did when he...”
Ooh, excellent, Trowa. Excellent...
“Rip out his eyes, tear out his heart...”
Um...
“Keep him alive long enough to make him feel the pain that I did. Rip up his asshole. Rip him apart. Make him do what he made me do!”
Uh...Trowa...
“I want him to feel what he did to me! I’ll tear him apart! I’ll make him feel what I felt!!”
Er–Trowa–honey–
“He’ll stay alive, and I’ll keep him alive, and take pictures of it all! I’ll–!”
TROWA!
“...Yes?”
Sweetie, we must keep our plans to ourselves. We can’t let the others know what we’re going to do...
Trowa calmed himself, feeling that every muscle in his body was tight and tense. He made himself relax. Staring up at the house, he exhaled a slow breath of calm. Catherine was pleased with his actions.
That’s a good boy, Trowa. Let’s go back home. Catch up on rest. When your parents go to work, maybe they won’t come back tomorrow. Doesn’t that sound fun?
“Quite.”
Duo was breathing heavily as he looked at his face in the bathroom mirror. His nose was bleeding from where one of Trowa’s fists had hit him. His hair was covered with dirt and various twigs from the ground. His clothes were dirty. His heart felt like it was racing a million miles per hour, and his mind was awash with panic and confusion. His feelings were a wreck, but things were simple–Trowa was his older brother. Trowa was the eldest, and had always been the moody sort. Duo had understood–he’d come from a different orphanage, but he’d seen the older kids constantly passed over in favor of younger ones. He knew Trowa was feeling very rejected by this common-case practice, and had resolved, upon meeting him, that he’d love his adopted brother unconditionally and without prejudice.
No matter what Trowa did; thought; felt; or said–Duo was going to love him and stand by him. Even if that meant Trowa treated him badly. Duo knew Trowa only did it because he was angry–and an angry person was just a person in constant search of something they couldn’t rightly find. Duo wanted to help Trowa in ways that he did not understand quite yet. He wanted to be something constant for him. A sort of pet rock whenever his older brother was in need of a friend.
Of course, Trowa thought differently–but that didn’t mean Duo had to change his feelings. He’d always love Trowa. And today, despite its actions, was no different. He’d chosen his older brother over his friend. He hoped that Quatre would understand. He should–he had elder siblings. Granted, he wasn’t close with them, and didn’t have the same ideals as Duo–but he should understand what it meant when one had to stand by a sibling. Duo was going to chose Trowa no matter what. Because that was the rule of family. Blood was thicker than water–granted, it was adopted blood, but the term was correct.
He studied his appearance in the mirror, and hastily began cleaning. Trowa was sulking in his room. Heero had hit him hard. Actually, he was quite impressive for a twelve year old. Duo had to respect that the soon-to-be-teenager was a strong kid.
But on to the present. Duo had to think of something to say that would excuse Trowa from his actions. Duo was already thinking up a story that would keep his brother out of trouble. Because if they heard that he hit both him and Quatre, they would send him away. He was sure of it. Because older kids weren’t supposed to do that to younger kids.
he washed the dirt from his face, and hurriedly untied his braid, running his fingers through to clean it.
Think, think, think! He thought, staring at the dirty sink.
A kid...a kid they didn’t know had come upon them. Had beat them up because they wouldn’t leave his ‘turf’. Yes, that had merit. Now, if only he could get Quatre to go with the story...he hoped he would, and that he hadn’t told anybody yet. Duo had to see him quickly. He knew Quatre was home by himself. He raced away from the sink, glancing at the hallway clock. He had nearly three hours to use to conjure a story about their injuries. He was NOT going to have Trowa sent away. He’d do whatever it took to prevent that.
He raced out the door, and ran to the three story house that was Quatre’s father’s house. He knew the sisters weren’t home–he prayed and hoped that Quatre hadn’t called his dad. He knocked once on the front door and walked in. He heard the sound of voices from the hall bathroom, and the obvious sounds of a kid’s sniffles and tears.
He hurried over in that direction, footsteps ringing within the largely empty house.
Peering in, he saw that Quatre was cleaning himself off, and that Maria was sitting on the bathtub. Duo winced upon seeing her, hiding behind the doorframe. Quatre’s ghost friends were very creepy–they were silent to him. Duo couldn’t talk with them–but seeing them was enough. Mostly, they communicated to him through Quatre, and didn’t bother with Duo too much.
Duo peered around the doorframe, and gasped–Maria had shifted suddenly, and was standing in the middle of the doorway. Her silent stare held him in contempt, and he clutched the wall with a terrified expression. He wasn’t too afraid of ghosts–but sometimes, they really bothered him with their silence.
Quatre rounded the corner–he walked right through Maria. The girl was suddenly gone, but when Duo moved away from the wall, she was right behind him. The smell of her singed skin and dress made his nose tickle.
But he stared at Quatre in pleading silence.
“Don’t tell on him, please,” he whispered, pleading at him with both his eyes and his voice.
Quatre stared at him, hiccuping. His face was wet with water and soap, the front of his clothes soaked with it. Trowa hadn’t gone light on him–he was going to have some pretty mean bruises tomorrow. They were already swelling. Duo could feel his own re-shaping his face.
“Please? They’ll send him away if you tell on him...”
Quatre was silent–he stared at Duo with a broken expression, and Maria was talking to him. Duo glanced at her, shifting from foot to foot. Was she saying things to refuse him? Or was she helping Duo?
Quatre was shaking his head from side to side. Duo’s heart leapt to his throat; panic raced throughout his body. He reached out with imploring hands, his expression showing his plea.
“Please!” he cried. “I love my brother! I don’t want him to leave! I don’t want him to go! I know he’s mean, and he’s really bad...but he’s my brother! I don’t want him to get sent away! He doesn’t deserve it! He didn’t have a good life! He can have one if we don’t say anything!”
“But, Duo...!”
“Please, Quatre! Oh, please! You’re my best friend, Quatre! I love my brother. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want him to go! Please! Oh, please?! I’m begging you–don’t tell on him. He just needs friends and love, and he’s–”
“I won’t tell.”
“–a nice guy sometimes, and–”
“I won’t tell, Duo!”
“–he–really? Quatre....? You won’t...you won’t tell?”
Quatre shook his head, slowly. Maria looked troubled, looking from one to the other. But she slunk away silently, casting Duo one last apprehensive stare. A door slammed somewhere within the house. Something clattered to the floor in the kitchen. Duo’s skin broke out in goose pimples. He glanced around himself with fear, but Quatre didn’t look scared.
“I won’t tell, Duo,” he repeated in a whisper.
Duo stared at him, violet eyes racing across his friend’s face. Then he hugged him tightly. “Thank you! Thank you so much! We need to make up a story, Quatre. We need to explain that someone else did it....”
“Okay, Duo. But I don’t think Trowa likes me very much. I’m scared of him...”
“I know, Quatre. I know. I’m so sorry. So very sorry...he can be so mean, but then, he could be the best, and I just want to show him that he’s okay...”
“It’s all right, Duo. Come on. Let’s go to my room.”
“Real quick, all right? Because I need to go home to my brother...”
“All right. You’re my best friend, Duo.”
“Me too, Quat. You’re my best friend. We’ll be friends for a long time, ‘k? Even if one of us moves away.”
“All right.”
110101010101100
Trowa was sitting against the closed door of his closet, staring blankly ahead of him. Fiddling with Catherine, he listened to the home sounds of his adopted parents in the living room. He also heard Duo, being his usual rambunctious self, in the same area.
He’d been surprised when Duo had explained that he and Quatre were beaten up by some unknown neighborhood kid for passing through their ‘turf’. They didn’t know the kid. They didn’t know his name, or his features. But apparently, the story had gone like this:
“Me and Quat went outside when Trowa was in the bathroom,” Duo had said breathlessly. “We were going to go for a real quick walk by the stream when this guy comes along, and yells at us for being on his turf! I thought me and Quat would get away, but we didn’t. He beat us up. It’s our fault, mom! We ran off when we weren’t supposed to!”
And Quatre’s story to his father went like this:
“I had thought that me and Duo could go for a walk when Trowa was in the bathroom,” he had said to his outraged father. “But we accidently walked onto another boy’s property. He got mad at us, and we tried to go away, but he caught us and beat us up. It’s my fault for telling Duo that Trowa wouldn’t mind if we walked. It’s my fault that we didn’t get away, papa.”
(He used ‘papa’ for those special moments when his father seemed to crumble at the meekly uttered name. It was accompanied with tears and a sniffle.)
Both Duo’s parents and Quatre’s father held a conference earlier this evening, discussing the horror that had happened to their children. Because the two were so adamant on the fact that they’d run out on Trowa, Trowa was let off the hook–innocent. He’d been so surprised that he quietly agreed that was what had happened. His adopted brother had beamed brilliantly at the fact that he was going along with their story. Quatre didn’t come out from behind his father the entire time.
But the matter of the fact was–Trowa had escaped danger with his actions. He was puzzled as to why Duo and Quatre had made up their story to protect him. In a way, it made sense–they were probably too scared of him to actually tell on him, for fear of revenge. But it all worked out in the end–both parents and father was going to search for this ‘kid’–who, conveniently, was too blah to be remembered or recognized. And because of this, the three couldn’t exactly single out a kid and his family without just assurance that it was him (or her).
Now...his mind felt detached–he couldn’t concentrate on a single thing. He felt listless and weightless, as if he were nothing. Even with his odd visions, in which he could see small shapes rustling underneath his bed, the blankets shifting and fluttering with life, he found no reason to behave normally.
The small shapes underneath his bed seemed to have sprouted teeth. They were grinning in his direction; sharp, jagged edges caught the faint light of his nightstand lamp. They hissed and giggled, high pitched sounds that didn’t alarm him or bother him.
Trowa, Catherine said. Her blank Spider-Man face was pointed at the floor–he set her upright and withdrew some grape Pez from her throat. This just won’t do, Trowa. This won’t. Sitting around doing nothing will accomplish nothing. We need to go out and do things, Trowa. Challenge the world. Make them realize what crimes were committed against you...That people shouldn’t have the freedom to do this sort of thing to other people. Sort of...setting examples...
“How would I do that?” he asked, imagining spandex and muscles. He frowned at the thought.
Do what they do, of course.
“What?”
That man took away a part of you that’ll never return. As far as I’m concerned, nothing in your life will ever be the same. You’re never going to be the same. The head doctors will say their pretty things and sprout pretty pictures, but there’s always going to be pain and torture at the back of your mind. You’re going to relive the entire incident no matter how you look at it. That man marked you for life. What I am saying is, why don’t you show the world what that man did to you?
“I still don’t understand, Catherine...”
Do you really want me to spell it out for you? What that man did to you–the rape, the humiliation, the pain...why don’t you share it with others?
Trowa scrunched his face with confusion. “Like speaking in front of classes?”
IDIOT! Catherine shrieked. She then cleared her throat. NO...others don’t know what you felt Trowa. They don’t know what you went through. They couldn’t possibly know how that man’s dick felt when it tore up your asshole...that you needed stitches because he tore you up so badly...that he made you suck him off after he–
“SHUT UP!”
...I’m sorry, Trowa. But it’s that that keeps others from understanding your pain. They look at you now, Trowa, and see a fifteen year old boy that can’t defend himself. They can’t possibly imagine what you felt that night. I’m just saying, in order for others to understand, that you need to MAKE them. And if you can’t MAKE them, then you should get rid of them. Set an example...And, just for the hell of things, you should just...remove those that threaten your existance...
Trowa removed his hands from his face, staring at the shapes under his bed. Ears were emerging–rabbit ears. The smiles were continuous–ever grinning creatures with jagged teeth and rabbit ears. They gnashed randomly on each other, and on the floor.
Dust bunnies, he thought faintly, thinking of the linty collection of misuse. I have deranged dust bunnies under my bed...“You’re saying that I should treat others how they treated me...?”
Yes, Trowa. Make them understand. MAKE them...start with your parents...They’ve always looked at you oddly, dear. They know what you don’t–they know where you came from, what your parents were like. They keep secrets from you, and keep you from knowing the truth about yourself. They have treated you so horribly–Sam keeps trying to mold you into a younger version of himself. Helen feels as if you’ll never compare to Duo...and Duo...the little mongrel. The snotty little brat...he takes away all the love that’s meant for you. You’ve been nothing but good to them all, and they treat you in this despicable, ugly way. Revenge, Trowa. Revenge is the sweetest thing of all...
“And what about those that...that threaten my existence?”
Those ones...like that little boy...he looks like that man, Trowa. That one should be watched. He could become that man as well–preying on others that are defenseless. Preying on others for the thrill of doing so...you need to watch out for that one. He is your enemy. Duo is your enemy. Everyone is your enemy, and you should hit them first...before they hit you.
Trowa stared at the Spider-Man pez dispenser. Catherine’s words rang clear and cut, and ideas blossomed within him. Ideas he would have never conjured if he had not met her. If he had not met that Predator. Ideas that made him feel warm inside, warm and bright. As if being filled with sunshine. He’d never felt this warm, before.
The DustBunnies under his bed giggled, retreating back into the shadows.
Trowa took another pez from Catherine’s throat. “Revenge...make them understand...Hit them before they hit me.”
Yes, Trowa. Why should you bear all this pain? Make them understand...MAKE them understand! Set an example! Speak up for yourself! Save the world!
“That sounds cool.”
110101010101100
Maria said that I should not go to Duo’s house anymore. That I should not go by Trowa. Trowa is bad, she said. He thought mean things about people–he was thinking of how to hurt them. He hated them. He hated me. I want to tell Duo, but dad said that I can’t tell others about what my friends say. Because they are ‘made up’. But I don’t know what to do. I told dad that I wouldn’t say, but what if Duo gets hurt? What can I do to save him if Trowa hurts him?
I want to protect my friend, but I don’t know how.
“You’re just a kid,” Marcus said. He was really sad when he died. He said he took too much of his mother’s medicine. Marcus is swollen and colored blue around his lips. He is black and wearing Heat jersey. I like his shoes. Someday, when I get older, I want a pair like those. He’s the oldest ghost that I know. “You can’t do anything to Trowa. You’re tiny. He’s taller than me. He’ll kick your ass all over again, kid!”
“But I can’t let him do things to Duo!” I argued. “I don’t want Duo to get hurt! He’s my best friend!”
“Look at you, Quatre,” Maria said, pointing at the hallway mirror. I turn and look at myself. Maria’s standing behind me–she barely has skin on her face and arms. Her dress melted onto her body, and is black in all areas. She would have been a pretty girl, but the fire made her ucky.“You’re just a kid. You can’t stop Trowa from hurting him. And yourself.”
“But I can’t...I can’t let that happen...”
“We can try to help, Quatre,” Marcus said, stooping to retie my shoelaces. “But you know we can’t touch people. We can only move some things...”
“Not even Freddy can stop him,” Maria whispered. “He can touch animals, but not humans...”
“I don’t want him to help. He’ll only help Trowa,” I said.
“Just be careful, Quatre,” Marcus said, straightening. He looked beyond me, and chuckled. Then he was gone. Maria walked into my sister Fannie’s room. I turn, and look over at Noin, who is staring over at me with confusion.
“Who are you talking to?” Noin asked, blinking as she looked at the seven year old. She had sworn she had heard voices...she could swear it! They had been distinct, easily a girl and a boy. But the moment she’d rounded the corner to check on her charge, she saw only him.
Quatre looked from side to side, then back at her. She had to wince once again at the array of injuries on his face. His father had warned her that the unknown kid had done a pretty good job at hurting his son. Currently, Mr. Winner was on the trail for the made-up assailant, going door to door and inquiring about various peoples’ kids. Noin felt the same rage as he had upon seeing Quatre’s face.
But then again, she heard Duo looked pretty bad as well.
“No one,” he finally answered. “I was...making up a story. In my head.”
She smiled gently, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. “But it’s not in your head if you’re talking out loud, sweetie. Are you hungry?”
“Are you cooking?”
“Yes.”
“Then, no.”
She gave a mock-outraged expression, straightening away from the wall. “Are you saying my cooking’s not good enough for you?”
“I didn’t say that, Miss Noin. You did.”
“C’mere, you little brat. I’ll show you bad cooking...we’re going to McD’s...”
“Can we take Duo?!”
“Duo’s staying with his brother, honey. He’s not allowed to come over...”
“Why?”
“He got into trouble last night. His parents are very disappointed in him.”
“Oh.” Quatre blinked as he wondered what Duo had done. Then, he hurried over to Noin’s side, thinking about his current problem with Trowa.
110101010101100
Duo held up the glass jar that held the field mouse captive. The slightly gray mouse was clawing at the glass walls, looking for a way to escape. It squeaked loudly in protest of its treatment as the braided boy crept down the hall toward his brother’s room. Trowa was currently taking a midday shower, and Quatre was hiding outside, on the front porch. Since that day, the blond avoided the older teen as much as he was possibly able. Since Noin had come back, he’d refused to go near Duo’s house–Duo was a little sad about it, but if Quatre was willing to keep secrets about Trowa, then this shouldn’t be bothersome at all.
They had caught the mouse after many tries, and Duo was going to leave it, as a gift of peace, in his brother’s room.
He nudged the door open with his elbow, and tiptoed inside. He thought he heard something scurrying underneath Trowa’s bed, but the mouse emitted a sound that was similar to a human screech. Duo gave a startled gasp and dropped the jar with panic. The glass shattered upon the hardwood floor. The mouse escaped. It scurried underneath his bed.
Fearful that Trowa was going to be angry about the glass, Duo quickly picked up all the pieces, and hastily swept the smaller shards into his hand. The edge of his palm was bleeding and stinging from multiple cuts due to the shards he’d touched, but he didn’t want his brother hurt or angry. He then ran out from his room, and deposited everything into the trash can.
“Damn it!” he cursed, moving to clean his hands in the kitchen sink. After that was done, he retrieved a Snoopy bandage from the cupboard, and applied as many as possible to his palm. Then, he reached into a cupboard under the sink, withdrew the bottle of bleach, and some napkins. He ran back to Trowa’s room, and ran the area with the glass with bleach. Helen had said that bleach killed the HIV virus, and that it should be used liberally if and ever he cut himself in the house. No matter the surface.
After that was finished, he put everything away, and ran out from the house.
Quatre looked up from the decorative stone that Helen had in her flower bed, and straightened.
“Did he like it?” he asked tentatively as Duo ran over to him.
“I dropped it. It’s gone,” Duo answered with a low sigh, wiping his forehead. “It ran under his bed!”
“Oh no...will he be mad?”
“Maybe he won’t notice it. Or he’ll catch it and keep it on his own,” Duo theorized, shaking his head. “C’mon. Let’s go find Heero and the others! Will Noin let you go?”
“I think so. Heero’s really cool, huh?”
“Yeah! Did you see when he climbed that one tree out by Davie’s back yard?! He is so awesome! Man, he is so cool...maybe one day, we can be like him, y’know? All brave and tough. He’s tough.”
“Me, too! He’s always so nice to me.”
“That’s because you’re all little and you cry easily.”
“I do NOT!”
“Yeah huh! Cry baby, cry baby!”
“If that’s the case, Duo, then you’re a farty-poop breath. Because you always stink.”
“Not uh! You do! You’re the one always farting!”
“You do!”
“Not uh! Not uh!”
“HEY!”
They both jumped in surprise at Noin’s bellow. The woman was standing on the back porch, looking at them angrily.
“You get back over here, right now! I told you, you can’t be running around back there unsupervised!”
“But, Miss Noin–!” Quatre cried.
“No ‘buts’!! Get your ass back over here and eat something! Duo!? Did Trowa give you permission to leave?”
“No,” Duo muttered, kicking the dirt.
“You’d better get on home, kid. Before your brother gets into trouble!”
At that, Duo perked. He waved at them both as he hurried home, Quatre continuing to protest Noin’s orders.
Running back home, Duo checked both ways of the street first, then ran across. He hurried inside, hearing that Trowa was still using the shower. Settling himself on the couch, Duo began flipping through the channels, hating to be cooped up inside. He was going to ask Trowa if he could go over to Quatre’s house to play video games when something moved out of the corner of his eye.
With a puzzled expression, Duo crawled over the couch cushions, and peered over the edge. He thought that perhaps it was the mouse, and it had escaped to the living room. If that was the case, he had to find it before his parents did. Cursing lowly under his breath, he crawled off the couch and peered underneath the small space between the bottom of the couch and the floor.
He could see a small shape working itself across the length of the couch, crawling toward the wall. It had to be the mouse. He hurried over into the kitchen, found a large glass cup and the broom, and hurried back to the living room. With a reluctant sigh, he dropped to the floor, and peered underneath. The small shape had stopped, and it looked a little odd.
Too round and too...the field mouse seemed to have grown overly large teeth. But, with a determined frown, Duo poked the handle of the broom in its direction, hoping to scare it into the direction of his cup. The broom jerked in his hand, and a snarl of sorts caused him to reflexively jerk away from the couch, sitting up on his knees. Staring at the broom, which moved in jerking motions, Duo didn’t know what to think or do.
Then...the sound of spitting. Something scurried across the floor, running up the hall toward the bedrooms. Duo stared in that direction, mind blank. That was one big field mouse...
He pulled the broom out from under the couch, eyes widening at the teeth marks that had chewed into the metal. His mouth dropping open, he pulled the demolished handle down to his level, carefully running the pad of his finger over the teeth marks.
“Wow,” he breathed in an impressed manner.
When the bathroom door opened, he jerked the handle behind him, and listened to Trowa cross the hall and enter his bedroom. At the sound of a slamming door, Duo raced to his feet and put everything away. He didn’t want to get into any kind of trouble from his brother. If he found the mouse running around in his room, then Duo was going to know nothing about it.
He resettled himself down on the couch and looked for something to watch.
110101010101100
Noin smiled up at her boyfriend, Milliardo. Tall, handsome, impeccably neat, he was the very picture of wealth and relative popularity. Nearly ten years older than her, he was the first real career man she’d ever taken an interest in. They had been dating for nearly two years, and the romance was awesome. She wasn’t quite ready to settle down just yet, but she planned on settling down with him when she was ready. He was just the picture of all things women wanted in a man–handsome, wealthy, intelligent, charming, romantic–she’d struck it big when she found him.
He was going to take her out, tonight. Which was why she didn’t drive to ‘work’ as she normally did.
Standing on the Winners’ front porch, Noin reach out to tuck long, blond strands from Milliardo’s face. She just called him ‘Milly’ for short.
“How was your day?” she asked.
“The same,” he replied, his voice pleasant and deep. She found that his eyes were so strong, so beautifully colored–sometimes, they were a light ice blue that made her shiver with its intensity. Other times, they were dark and deep, foretelling of the depths he had as an untamed personality. “Not much to talk about. How about yours?”
“Oh, the kid was awesome, as usual. He and his friend are always off and about, doing something that looks fun. I don’t watch over brats, Milly. I watch over very good kids. These are the ones they never show on movies.”
“I’ve never met your charge.”
“Oh, he’s a real sweetie. Want to meet him?”
“When does his father get home?”
“In about a half hour. You should meet him, too. You’ll like him.”
“Sure. Why not?”
Noin smiled, pulling his hand as they ventured through the front door of the Winner’s house. As they walked in, she could feel Milly’s eyes taking in the modern furniture and decorative pieces that were placed throughout the three story. She could hear Quatre watching his usual afternoon array of cartoons, and tugged Milly in that direction.
“Hey,” she said, walking into the living room. The kid looked up at her, then shifted to look at Milliardo. He instantly went still, his head tilting slightly. Noin had to suppress a shiver–that action always made her think of him listening to things that no one else could hear. “Quatre, this is Milly. Remember? I told you about him...”
He didn’t say anything, his eyes growing wide as they stared at Milly. Noin wasn’t sure, but it looked as if he were suddenly very afraid. She looked at Milly, who was smiling down at the child with a peaceful expression on his face.
“Hello, Quatre. I hear you’ve been giving Noin a hard time.”
Quatre stared at him in silence, seeming to have lost his voice. Noin blinked, and frowned slightly at her charge’s suddenly odd behavior. He was displaying all the signs all children had when they were currently afraid and unsure of what to do in a certain adult’s presence. She tightened her grip on her boyfriend’s hand, and looked back at him with a anxious smile.
“He gets a little nervous around people he doesn’t know,” she explained with a slight chuckle. “He’s a really good kid.”
Milly let go of her hand, and lowered himself so that he was nearly eye level with Quatre. The boy’s eyes got even wider, and he pressed himself against the couch cushions. Milly was going to say something when he caught the smell of something burning. He was suddenly on his ass on the floor. The boy was over the couch and racing through the hall, storming upstairs with a loud clatter of sound.
“Quatre?!” Noin called in surprise, looking down at Milliardo with a confused expression. “Did he just push you?!”
“No,” Milliardo answered in the same tone, brushing himself off as he rose from the carpeted floor. “I...I seemed to have lost my balance...”
“He doesn’t act like that around people, Milly. Maybe he’s just tired, or something. He’s a good kid! Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. That was unusual. Does, ah, the kid play with matches?”
“Wha-? No. Quatre’s terrified of fire. Why?”
“I smelled something burning...”
“Nothing’s on the stove...sometimes, the house has that smell. I think Mr. Winner said that the family living here before had a fire somewhere, and the smell comes out sometimes. C’mon, you big, handsome lug. Let’s go outside to talk.”
“Cute kid.”
“Yeah...he is. You should see his friend. His friend’s just as cute. The biggest purple eyes you’ve ever seen in a person.”
“Violet eyes? How unusual. You know, they say people with purple eyes can see things most people can not,” Milly commented, chuckling as he glanced around himself. They walked back out onto the front porch, and took a seat in the outside chairs.
“Why is that, I wonder?” Noin asked aloud, glancing over at Duo’s house. The lights were on, but the parents weren’t home yet.
“Something concerning the color purple...now...about Friday night...”
Noin and Milliardo talked quietly about their plans, occasionally falling into fits of laughter with certain comments directed at each other.
Quatre could hear them as he sat in his room, huddled underneath his bed. He’d never seen Milly before– Noin never brought him over, but she talked about him constantly. It wasn’t professional to bring a boyfriend to work, she’d once said. But ever since Maria had told him that Trowa had been hurt by this man, Quatre was afraid of him. That man had secrets that had his friends worried for him.
Run, Maria had said when Milly was crouching down to talk to him. Don’t let him get you.
He whimpered slightly. He was a big man. He easily overpowered Trowa. What would he do with a little kid like him? The thought was truly terrifying...
He froze when he heard the heavy footfalls. His skin pimpled with gooseflesh, and fear like none other washed over him.
Freddy was here.
His anger was immense. It crowded the air with intensity. It made Quatre’s pulse race with fear and for his breath to catch in his throat. He’d never felt Freddy this angry before. Even the others were missing. He watched as Freddy walked into his room–he wore Nike Cortezes, the sleek shoes whispering over the carpeted areas of his room. He was breathing heavily, a tortured sound out of his ruined throat. Something crashed to the floor–Quatre recognized it as his bed side lamp. Something slammed into his wall–his digital clock. The sheets were pulled off his bed, and the entire bedframe rocked with Freddy’s fury.
The tortured sounds from his torn throat grew into interrupted shouts of sound, and Quatre covered his ears as his night stand was hauled up from the floor and tossed into the outside hall. The mattress was flung away from the box springs. He heard shouts coming from downstairs.
Freddy was furious. He kicked at Quatre’s toys on the floor, tore down the curtains, and pulled the blinds from the window. He was now ripping the closet door off its hinges. Hangars flew. Clothes coated the floor. Shoes were tossed about.
Those sounds continued.
Quatre could hear Noin racing up the stairway. Freddy was still raging. He wasn’t hiding like he usually did when someone was around. Looking up, shaking uncontrollably, Noin watched as Freddy turned away from his closet, and faced the open doorway. He looked over to see Noin racing in, and stop short.
She gave a strangled gasp at the sight of his room.
He wasn’t going to come out until Freddy left. He could still see the other boy’s feet just outside his closet. But he removed his hands from his ears, hearing Noin’s sharp intake of breath.
“QUATRE!!” she shouted, angrily. “Quatre, what the hell?!”
But it wasn’t me, he thought, unmoving from under his bed. He didn’t want Freddy to see him. The older boy was still standing there.
“QUATRE! Get your little ass out here right now, young man!”
“Noin, what’s the–dear GOD!”
Quatre blinked–Milly had just entered the room. He looked over at the man’s expensive leather shoes, standing just behind Noin. Freddy was unmoving, but he was making those sounds again.
Noin turned, and stomped out from the room, shouting for Quatre. But Milly didn’t move.
Quatre blinked at the man’s shoes. He felt naked and afraid. He didn’t want neither of those two seeing where he was hiding. He couldn’t see Freddy past his ankles, but he knew that he was gesturing.
A loud thump alerted Quatre to Milly. He saw that the man was on his knees.
His curiosity at the man’s position prompted him to crawl out so that he could see what the man was doing.
The man, pale as he was, was gray–his eyes were wide. He was staring at Freddy. Quatre knew it. And he knew Milly didn’t see him–and he suddenly knew Freddy wasn’t going to hurt him. For some reason, he knew that these two knew each other.
He cautiously crawled out from underneath his bed, and looked over at Freddy. Freddy was addressing Milly with his gestures and angry expression, never seeing Quatre. Milly was staring at Freddy with recognizance and horror. Disbelief.
As he looked from one to the other, he knew why they knew each other.
Milly was the one who’d killed Freddy.
“I’m sorry,” Milly suddenly whispered. “I panicked. I panicked...”
110101010101100
That one right there, Trowa, Catherine said.
Her Spider-Man face was pointed upward, staring into the underbelly of the Lincoln Navigator. Carefully, Trowa nudged aside the oil line and snipped halfway through the brake lines. It was easy once people knew what they were looking for. Catherine knew what she was looking for. The early morning hours were convenient in that no one would see what he was doing. Everyone was asleep in their beds, safe and warm. It was just him, Catherine, and the DustBunnies.
The small things, round, linty fuzzes of fluff, were leaping around him, skittering with hisses and high pitched giggles. Two of them were positioned on the brake line, gnawing on the spot he’d snipped. Their jagged teeth and uneven edges would prevent the police from thinking that the lines had been deliberately cut. Other DustBunnies were chewing on other various lines. Their teeth marks resembled those of mice. He would never be suspected.
Yes! Excellent job, Trowa. Now, get out. Let’s go for a walk...
Trowa picked Catherine up, and scooted out from underneath the Navigator. He was off and walking down the sidewalk, the sounds of early morning activity filling him with an inner sense of calm.
Remember, Trowa, when they question you, you have to act inconsolable, Catherine counseled from the inside of his pocket. You needed them. They were your safety and sources of comfort...no laughing, smiling, or giggling...
“How do you know it’s going to work?” Trowa asked.
Easy, sweetie...your little friends are going to make it work.
“This sounds really retarded...”
But it’ll get them out of the way, Trowa. And from there, you can start your mission...
“When do I start?”
When you’re ready, Trowa. When they’re out of the way. So far, they are the only ones to stop you. They...oh...it’s that boy’s house, isn’t it?
Trowa stopped, and stared across the street. The Winners’ house was dark, silent, eerie almost. Trowa could almost seen the outline of someone standing in one of the upstairs windows, peering out from behind the curtains. He blinked, hearing Catherine sigh, a melodic sound that was eerie within the early morning silence.
He’s probably in there, asleep and silent...innocent and peaceful...something you once were, Trowa. Innocent. Now you’re all dirty and nasty...but we won’t go there. Just think of it, Trowa. How closely he resembles the Predator...blue eyes, white hair...he could one day grow up and look exactly like him. How would you feel about that, Trowa? When that boy continues to be friends with Duo, and you’d have to see him every day? Knowing that a man like him raped you?
“I’d feel angry.”
Of course...would you want that to happen, Trowa?
“...No.”
Of course, not. You’ve always been a clever boy, Trowa. He’s going to be next. We’ll take care of him next. Accidents always happen to little kids...it’ll be easy. He’ll be your first real victim...he’ll be your first real test...
“What...what would I do to him?”
What do you want to do to the Predator?
“...I want to destroy him. I want to ruin him. I want to see if his insides are as black as I feel...”
Then that’s what we’ll do, Trowa...
“...Make him feel what I do. Make him feel what I did when he...”
Ooh, excellent, Trowa. Excellent...
“Rip out his eyes, tear out his heart...”
Um...
“Keep him alive long enough to make him feel the pain that I did. Rip up his asshole. Rip him apart. Make him do what he made me do!”
Uh...Trowa...
“I want him to feel what he did to me! I’ll tear him apart! I’ll make him feel what I felt!!”
Er–Trowa–honey–
“He’ll stay alive, and I’ll keep him alive, and take pictures of it all! I’ll–!”
TROWA!
“...Yes?”
Sweetie, we must keep our plans to ourselves. We can’t let the others know what we’re going to do...
Trowa calmed himself, feeling that every muscle in his body was tight and tense. He made himself relax. Staring up at the house, he exhaled a slow breath of calm. Catherine was pleased with his actions.
That’s a good boy, Trowa. Let’s go back home. Catch up on rest. When your parents go to work, maybe they won’t come back tomorrow. Doesn’t that sound fun?
“Quite.”