Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ The Best Medicine ❯ Prologue: The Last Straw... ( Prologue )

All right, people. Here it is; my first attempt at Angst!

I'll tell you all this right now. I am very surprised at myself for thinking up a fic like this. Sure, I've read some Angsty fics that I liked and that sort of thing. I never thought that I, myself, would be actually writing an Angst fanfic.

However, I've had this idea in my head for quite some time and it wouldn't go away, so I figured I better get it out of my system.

This fic, surprisingly, is not focused around the Prince of Angst himself, Seto Kaiba::: gasps of shock from the crowd::: although he is in this story. ::: sighs of relief from Kaiba fan girls::: Instead, it focuses mostly on his rival, Joey Wheeler.

I love Joey. He's very funny and cute. He's also very brave and a loyal friend. He'll back them up and protect them no matter what; at times risking even his own life. He acts a little weird at times (talking to and kissing his Red Eyes Black Dragon card @_@!), yet aside from that, he's a very cool character.

Anyway, back to the story...

This focuses on his relationship with his abusive father and what would happen if Joey's dad crosses the line.

Be warned, this first part has abusive situations. There may also be flashbacks throughout the story, so don't read if this bothers you...

Usual Disclaimers Apply: I don't own 'Yu-Gi-Oh!'

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The Best Medicine

By

B-chan (AKA Red Phoenix)

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Prologue: The Last Straw....

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WHAM!!!

White lights flickered in the teen's eyes as a heavy fist made contact with his head, stunning him and sending his body back several feet. He felt his back slam into a wall, causing further pain. He held back a throbbing wince. Still, he was used to the pain.

It was a daily part of his life.

Even as he prepared himself for another blow, he felt that same large fist collide with his abdomen. He kneeled forward, gasping from the wind knocked out of him.

Another object, which the boy realized was an empty bottle; crashed into his face, throwing him back again and causing his head to smack into the wall once more. He could feel the blood from the last two head blows emerging in his mouth. Before he could react, a large, cold hand clamped itself tightly around his throat. Now pinned to the wall, he closed his eyes and waited, helpless in its merciless grip.

"Whereizit?" A man's slurred, drunken voice snarled in the boy's ears.

No answer.

"WHEREIZ IT, YA LITTLE RUNT?!?!" The man roared as he slammed the teenager back against the wall. So hard that his teeth clacked together.

Still no response.

Now enraged, the man lifted the boy up by his clenched hand and, with all his might; slammed him into the wall full force.

The teen's eyes flew open, a strangled gasp escaping his pale lips. He gasped harder when he felt the man's free hand pelt him in the gut, again and again; long after he was unable to breathe. The blood in his mouth trickled out, leaving scarlet trails down his chin, onto the clutching hand.

Breathing wasn't coming easily to the poor boy. If anything, it was downright painful and almost impossible. It was as if those same cold, cruel hands that beat his body almost every day; those same hands seem to be squeezing his very lungs. His soft brown eyes, usually so bright with mirth and defiance; were now wide with pain and fear.

A quiet, almost inaudible voice was whispering in his ear. He had heard this voice many times before. What it was, he wasn't sure. It only spoke whenever 'this' happened. Usually it reassured him that any minute now, the beating would stop and this...this person would stop and sleep off his drunken debauchery.

This time, however, was different.

For whatever reason, the tiny voice was more fearful than ever before. Somehow, both it and the young man knew.

This beating would be his last.

Peering through limp bangs of straw-blonde hair, the teen regarded the man for a moment through his bleary, unfocused gaze; almost as if he were sizing him up. The face was similar to his, yet at the same time, not his face. It was older; slightly weathered with age even though he was in early forties. His eyes were darker and filled with malice. A malice that had destroyed the boy's family. Something that he so desperately craved; needed. Something he had found only through the constant love and support of his closest, dearest friends. This man understood 'nothing' of that closeness. He didn't want to understand. The teen knew, deep in his heart; that he would never turn into this abomination of a human being.

He would never become his father.

The man plowed his fist into his son's jaw without warning. Once more, his head smashed back into the wall, making his head throb.

"Now," the teen's father snarled in a low, dangerous voice. "Where didja hide the money?"

'As if I'd tell 'im,' the blonde thought through his foggy mind. He had taken what little money had been left in the house and used it to buy food. They had been out for three days. Now this man who called himself his father wanted to use it to get booze; to satisfy his dangerous addiction. He wouldn't get it, now. They needed to eat.

"TELL ME, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF CRAP!!!!!" He roared. His grip on his son's throat tightened.

The boy was stubbornly silent.

"For the last time....!" His hand formed a tight fist again as he drew it back. "WHAT'D YOU DO WITH THE CASH?!?!?!!!"

Parting his lips slightly, he tried to speak. " I..."

"You what?!"

"..s..s-sp..sp-spent it...on ...f..f-food.." His voice was weak and broken. The teen waited for the reaction.

If possible, he watched his father's eyes grow even darker and bulge out of his skull. The angry jaw clenched even tighter and his body shook with boiling rage. Fear suddenly gripped the teen at this foreign look in his father's eyes; a look that, in all the beatings he'd taken over the last several years, he had never seen there before.

It was a murderous look.

Everything was a blur after that. He couldn't remember if he was punched or kicked first. He had a vague recollection of being thrown to the floor and kicked around like a soccer ball, then picked up forcefully and punched kneed repeatedly in the face and stomach. So much of it was foggy; it all happened so fast.

One of the few things he could remember; blood. It was in his mouth, almost choking him with its vile taste alone. He was wet with it; smattering his face and neck from the wounds on his head. It was on his arms and it soon stained his shirt and jeans. He could remember hearing several cracking, popping noises that he knew were the sounds of his bones and ribs being broken by the numerous, heavy blows.

Yet even the pain his body was overshadowed by the condemnation from his own father as curses were flung at him from every angle; words of hatred, cruelty and wrath. Every one of them struck a chord and buried itself deep into his very soul, into his heart. Even the pain of his beaten body would have been tolerable were it not for the hateful words his father threw at him.

His father; a man who's duty was to guide and protect his son. The betrayal of love and trust stung deeper than any knife or sword could ever do.

The blonde teen felt the pair of large hands grab him tightly at his shoulders, forcing him to his feet. He couldn't stand; his body hurt too much.

"SON OF A BITCH!!!" The fist slammed into his jaw again. His head snapped back and he was dimly aware of just hanging there as his father clutched the front of his shirt.

"I'LL TEACH YOU NOT TA STEAL MY MONEY!!!" The boy felt himself being pulled along by his shirt as his feet dragged limply across the floor. His kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see whatever was planned for him.

When they suddenly stopped, he waited. Aside from his father's heavy breathing, it was quiet.

Too quiet, the teen thought nervously. What's he gonna do now? This thought repeated itself until he felt those large, brutal hands grip him tightly by his shirt and be pulled upright.

"Lookit me," That same, harsh voice ordered.

Deciding to listen for once, he obeyed; one eye opening only slightly from the bruise that was forming over it. Through the haze, he noticed where they were standing.

'Oh Gods,' he thought fearfully, panic welling up inside him as he realized what the larger man had planned. 'Oh, please no...!'

"Ya shouldn't 've taken my money, ya little punk!" the boy heard his father sneer as he lifted him up by his shirt.

The fear in the boy's eyes grew as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the twisted, sadistic look on his father's face. 'Oh..no...p-please...'

"Now..." he whispered dangerously. "...you'll have to be PUNISHED!!!"

'NO...!'

His father tossed him into the air.

For a split second, he was airborne.

The next, he felt his back and head hit the sharp edge of the stairs.

He tumbled down the long staircase; every edge of each step biting into his flesh. Every injury he sustained worsened and intensified. He could feel every broken bone shift out of alignment and press against the inside of his skin. A sharp pain in his chest and a dry gasp from his lips told him a lung was punctured. The staircase was a blur in his eyes as he fell, faster and faster.

The moment his body slammed into the smooth, hard floor at the bottom of the staircase, he didn't make a move to get up.

He couldn't if he wanted to.

Through his bleary gaze, he could see, at the top of the stairs; his father staring down at him with that familiar look of revulsion and sick satisfaction as if the teen lying there had been a burglar that he had stopped from robbing the house.

As he felt his consciousness slipping away, his last thought was of the few people in the world that mattered to him; that he cared for and loved. The people that loved him in return.

A sad smile crossed his lips. 'Sorry guys...guess you won't have your ol' pal Joey to pick on anymore.... I'll miss ya all....'specially....'specially......mmm...'

His thought ended as he slipped into darkness.

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Cain Wheeler glared down at Joey with scorn. "Humph! Serves him right, the little punk!" He snorted as stared at his son with more contempt imaginable. "Stealing my money...maybe this'll teach 'im respect for his elders!" He swigged down a drink and staggered, then looked down at his ragged clothes and made a face.

"Stupid kid. Got his filthy blood all over me." He tried to wipe away the crimson spots, but only succeeded in smudging them further. "Argh, it's ruined! Make the boy clean it in the morning...I'm tired.."

So, in his drunken state, Cain Wheeler stumbled to his room and slammed the door, leaving behind a blood-covered hallway and his only son bleeding and broken downstairs.

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Okay, I gotta say this; I scared myself quite a bit when I finished typing this. Then again, I wanted to make this story as angsty as possible.

As you've probably guessed, this is my first shot at Angst fanfiction, so go easy on me. I normally read and write romantic, funny stories that make me smile. This is a little new for me, so I'm gonna take it slow.

As for Joey, it should emphasized that he is one of my favorite characters on

'Yu-Gi-Oh!', so I'll try not to be too hard on him.

When I found out about his abusive, alcoholic father, I developed a new found respect for him. He's had to put up with a LOT these past years. After his parents divorced and he was separated from his sister Serenity, he was, more or less; on his own.

Eventually though, he meets and befriends Tristan. Then before long Yugi (after the smaller boy stood up for him and Tristan against that bull Ushio), and Tèa. Then Ryou comes along and of course, Mai, Otogi (stupid dubbers calling him Duke!) and then his sweet sister Serenity comes back into his life.

Anyway, I promise this isn't the end. I'll have the first chapter out soon. I also promise lots more angst, drama, and some good 'ol fashioned romance! Ohhh, my favorite part!

However, I'll only do that if I get LOTS and I mean LOTS of reviews!!! Say, at the most...ten. That's fair, isn't it? Ten or twelve reviews, then I'll post the first chappy.

So read and review, people! Read and Review!

Later!

The CRAZY and BEAUTIFUL,

B-chan (AKA Red Phoenix)