Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Friendship’s last song ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Summary: What if Anzu(Tea) never was the child of Mr. and Mrs. Mazaki. What if instead she was born the daughter of Bandit Keith? Warnings inside; implied insanity ensured.

W-A-R-N-I-N-G: This will include detailed abuse scenes, explicit drug use, language, mild violence and some sex related material (hence the R rating, guys)

Disclaimer: So… how to explain this story...um...ah... ::nervous laughter:: This is completely unlike anything I've ever written before. If you want to read a cheerful sappy fic, you've come to the wrong place. Might I suggest reading the warnings if you haven't already. And do I even need to say I don't own the rights to Yugioh?

A/N: Well this is my 2nd shot at a Yugioh story, I wrote this, one-- maybe two years ago. This is lightly based on that of events which have occurred in my life. I hope to send a message out to every reader and to anyone who has had, or is dealing with similar problems.

Prologue

Anzu's POV

I stood at the top of the staircase as a sharp pain scraped diagonally through my stomach. It was a mix between hunger and angst; probably my least favorite collective feeling. It had been maybe less than a week since my last meal; not having any money can do that to you.

This whole chaotic mess started right when Dad had gone missing after returning from duelist kingdom. With nothing more than a disjointed hello, he had handed me some cash along with plainly stating he'd be gone awhile. Where he was leaving to and for how long was never specified, but I could take a hint when a guy wanted his space. It wasn't long until I learned of his failure to win the prize money and duel monsters champion title; something I already assumed when he had first stumbled back home; completely drunk. Apparently dad had gotten into the finals but was somewhere along the line disqualified for cheating. Typical trademark of his, I wasn't surprised.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted as I heard unfamiliar laughter emanate from one floor below me. "Dad?"

Gently clutching my stairs railing, I took in a deep breath and wobbly placed one foot in front of the other. Descending one step at a time, my feet soon met with kitchen tiles. Tiptoeing my way to the refrigerator, I couldn't help but take out some milk only to chug it down with one gulp. `What a relief to have food again,' I thought; pouring myself another glass. Moments later I began grabbing every other type of food group I could get my hands on; mind you I hadn't eaten anything in days.

Three bowls of cereal, two cheese sandwiches and five minuets later, the very same laughter as before was heard again; only this time my curiosity got the better of me. Oh, that horrible trait of curiosity, it still managed to plague me.

It wasn't long before my feet had directed me towards the living room. My bright blue eyes peered themselves around a corner only to witness dad and his group of friends crowded around a table. "Let me see `dat shit" Keith cursed, motioning for someone to pass what looked to be a lighter.

I watched timidly as he continued to take out a broken light bulb, the plastic shell of a pen, and a small bag containing white crystals. He poured a diminutive amount out of the bag and onto the shard meticulously as if he had done this a hundred times before. Placing the shell of the pen in his mouth, he held the shard in his left hand and used the other to slowly melt the crystals with the lighter. Quickly he inhaled the smoke that deliciously burned his lungs, grinning like a madman in the process. I think my heart stopped for a moment or two. Kind of pathetic my father; Bandit Keith had fallen into a downward spiral controlled by drugs. Apparently `meth' as I remember someone from school calling it, was the one thing that could get his mind off of the harshness of reality.

By now smoke was rapidly filling the room seeing as some moron decided to light up a cigarette. My lungs were pleading for clean air and my mouth was joined by the sound of loud coughing. I never did care for cigarette smoke. All eyes immediately were fixed on me, and the laughing continued; now more deafening than before. I covered my mouth and darted for the stairs, hoping by some slight chance no one had seen me. Man, was I wrong.

Keith's group of thugs cornered me before I even got to the first step; one grasping me roughly by the arm. Dad then hand motioned for me to come and sit next to him but I didn't have to be told twice. I had enough common sense to do what I'm told in this sort of dilemma.

His smile continued to shape itself into this type of mistrustful cynical smirk, as his eyes; half open and bloodshot, never took themselves off me. I tried to screen all that fear building up inside me, but who was I to kid here; everyone knew I was scared shitless. Keith then took out yet another cigarette; only this time offering the hit to me instead. I looked at him scornfully and somehow muttered out a "no."

Now up until this moment I have never held anything serious against my father. I had always believed to be this strong figure who I respected as any child would their parent. The reality of it all though is people change; and now all I could see of him was this irresponsible little kid when what's needed is a liable adult.

"What? Too good for a smoke with your ol' man, Anzu?" He taunted; continuing to light the cigarette even against my wishes. "More like too young you irresponsible jerk" I hastily replied; declining again. "Irresponsible?!" Keith laughed, inhaling the cig and intentionally puffing its smoke into my face. A few of the men surrounding me let out a snicker to help join in my mocking.

Quite aggravated by how I was being treated, I fearlessly ripped my arm away from the man holding it, and clenched two shaking fists in front of Keith's face. In one heated and really ticked off gasp of breath, I began to shout out all that had been fuming inside me. From his lack of parenting skills to the food and money supply shortage; I didn't miss a detail. Those shady and bloodshot eyes of his immediately turned to daggers as he interrupted my rant; chucking what was left of his cigarette at my face.

I tried to get my say in, but Keith had already cornered me against a wall; provoked by his chanting gang of friends in the background and the taste of hard liquor in his mouth.

"I can't imagine what your ma' was thinking when she left Keith with you!" Shouted a familiar oily haired man with a name I couldn't remember. "Yeah, what a witch!" joined in another.

I was fuming now. The disrespectful mention of my mother sent me into a cursing frenzy where I loudly insulted them right back. In response, Keith motioned a tightened fist to me; his eyes glowing crystal blue. "You know what they say, baby," he sneered, gripping my arm tightly.

Yes, he had saved the best for last.

"Like mother like daughter." With those last words I was pushed roughly into a table; my face coming into contact with jagged, sharp edges of freshly broken glass.

"The truth, it hurts doesn't it? To have reality thrown so harshly back into your fuckin' face?" Keith's smile was hard and unforgiving, just like his eyes.

Rid of all emotion.

Hollow.

Empty.

His lips curled into another cynical smirk as he decided to shove the knife a little further into my heart; crushing my arm with his boot. I cringed as the glass sunk deeper into my delicate skin, blood now dripping from neck to elbow.

"Being the bratty, angst- ridden teenager you are, you should realize when not to pry into other people's business. Well daddy has some things to catch up on, so I'll be gone for the next few nights. Now be sure not to let this happen again, dear" he finished sweetly. Keith then bent down to cares my badly cut cheek, and leisurely left the room with his `friends' following swiftly behind.

Bandit Keith would clip her wings if he could cage her. And he would. Because this time... he would be the one to finish the game.

Eyes close to tears, and a muffled voice that sounded like broken jewelry; locks of chocolate, and pouted lips as red as blood; the girl looked so pale and thin.

"Happy sixteenth birthday Anzu," I soundlessly whispered out to the bare room; soon declining into a bitter sleep.

So should I continue? Yes? No? Good Bad? Help me out here.