&& Does It Hurt? [Akkii]

[Dante]

Does it hurt?
The mocking voice of his stepfather, even as he escaped the house, seemed to ring in his mind, over and over, taunting him, daring him to do something, to give him a reason to hit him once again. As usual, the smell of booze had come from the fat man, and the bloodshot eyes only confirmed what he already knew. Behind him, his mother had staggered out, slurring her words to the point in which he couldn’t understand them, a bottle of tequila in her hands, and half empty. Their unfocused gazes, the smell seeming to pour off of them, it was enough to make him reckless, and today, he had paid the price for that. It hadn’t helped his situation though when his sister had come home, another guy right behind her, clutching a fine bottle of wine. Everyone was so messed up, everyone was so happy. It was a party every night! Getting wasted, doing things that the thin walls wouldn’t hide, and having a great life. There was no sanity in his home, and only darkness flared in his mind. There had been a time, a time before all the booze and men, a time when life was good; there was no other word for it.

Oh, but that time has long since passed.
Bitterness was a good way to describe how the thought felt, but bitterness could describe everything about the teenager. Sure, he had good looks, an exact replica of his true father he had been told before his mom had gone off the deep end, and once upon a time, he had been popular, he had had friends. But when his dad had died, on his birthday none the less, then Bryana had the equivalent of a mental breakdown, and in doing so, she drug everyone under with her, even though at the time it had only been her, and the now eight year old; despite his age, he remembered the day well. He should though, seeing as it was a frequent part of his nightmares, along with the usual stuff that actually went on when the doors were closed. Sometimes it didn’t even get that far, but those were nights when he went and slept on a bench or something of the sort, preferring even the cold to his home, if you could call it that. Oh, life wasn’t perfect before, it was far from it actually, but at least, in the very least, he hadn’t been beaten.

It used to be that he hadn’t even been able to defend himself; that was what had gotten him into Shadowboxing in the first place. Now days though, thanks to Winter Break, with the beatings common, Lucien was able to hit back, one he had actually broken the monster who called himself a father’s nose, a great moment of satisfaction for the boy. After that though, Jerry had stopped fighting alone; now he brought home all his drunken friends to help him hold down the boy. Everything else was perfect you see, but the boy. Never mind the fact he was married to an unfaithful wife, that they were both wasted as soon as they got up and went to bed, or that their daughter was basically going to be a prostitute when she got older. It was his entire fault, since he never did any of the ‘family’ things. They had tried to make him drink once, something that had ended in bruises for anyone who had attempted it. He had seen, and was still watching, what booze did to people, his father had drank it before his death when bills had gotten bad, he wanted no part of the stuff.

Today had been bad though, the heavy, swaggering, steps of drunk men, the high pitched giggles of the girls, the drunken laughter for one reason, it had woke him up. It seemed as though that there was another party going on, in the morning. That meant that tonight there was going to be an even bigger one. It also meant that he needed to escape before they figured out he was still there; started calling him out by his nickname, Lucifer. He already had the bruises and wounds from the night before, and he had no want to increase those. Rolling from his bed, Lucien dressed with whatever wasn’t covered with some blood, and then, just as his door had opened, jumped out of the one story window. Landing in a crouch, he hadn’t waited to see who was looking at him, but instead, had taken off at a jog, intent on only one thing; to get away. The faster he could get away, the less interest they would have in him, drunken fat men don’t like to run, especially after skinny little hell children. Or so he’d been called.

He hadn’t been able to run for long though, and just running as he had, it had cost him. Walking with a limp, though he tried to hide it, Lucien was simply wandering, enjoying the snow. It was his favorite season of the year, not that anyone cared. As his life had gotten worse, his friends had all left him, and he was as alone as they came. Nobody paid attention; nobody cared; just the way he wanted it to be. If nobody was paying attention to you, then you could observe them without getting observed yourself, you wouldn’t have to answer any questions they may have, you didn’t have to deal with their observations. It was just safer that way. And, despite the fact he would never admit it; Lucien was scared of Jerry, scared of what might happen to him if he told the secrets of what went on behind the doors. Even though now, he could put up a decent fight, there was a time when even the best fighter was outnumbered, and Jerry had already hinted at what would happen if he had told; he had a good job. He knew people, if you caught the drift.

Coughing, Lucien doubled over for a moment, face growing pale, tight, as he clutched his stomach, still for a few moments, before forcing himself to straighten up. Yes, tonight had indeed been a bad night; good thing he had practice in hiding things. Forcing himself to be as normal as possible, Lucien entered the place he always went when he had been able to snatch some money from Bryana and Jerry; the local coffee shop. He knew the waiters here well enough that they didn’t even have to ask what he wanted; they told him that his expression tended to tell them everything. Head down, hood pulled up slightly so it covered his eyes, Lucien trudged as well as he could into the place, shuffling in order to hide his limp. Making his way over to the darkest corner in the store, he gratefully sat down in the small two person table, leaning against the wall, face paler than usual, something that would be whispered among the staff in worry; although they didn’t talk to him too much, they liked Lucien for his strength. Not to mention the fact that they had finally convinced him to work here. He would still be working, if it hadn’t been a forced vacation for him. He didn’t want vacation time; working the hours he did, he kept himself out of the house, and the bruises healed up more so then before. They couldn’t do anything about it though, sadly enough.

”Here you go Lucien. On the house.” One of the waiters said, concern flaring to life in his eyes when Lucien didn’t react as quickly as usual. Forcing his brown eyes open, Lucien smiled faintly.
”Thanks Mark.” He said quietly, taking the steaming cup of coffee from the older man, who left slowly, not really wanting to go back to work. He didn’t know, well he had a good idea of what went on with all of Lucien’s bruises and everything, how hard that it had been last night, this was one of the worst moments for Lucien though, and it made him angry about what was going on. Lucien though, was content for the moment, sipping his coffee, and leaning back in the shadows, exhaustion clear in his face. Nobody would bother him here, not if they were part of the normal crowd anyway. Very few people would bother him as it was, and they usually did it on a dare. It was peaceful, and as usual, a little bit lonely. Being alone was something one grew used to though…

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[X]

The snow came down in big fat flakes from the pearl-gray sky, seeming desperate to get rid of the footprints that made the twinkling blanket dirty and marred. But it seemed they just kept coming. Nevaeh had no opinion on whether the snow was a perfect white blanket or dirty and browned. It was snow—cold but fun for the younger kids to play in.
Today, Nevaeh, being the oldest kid at the foster home, was in charge of two of the five younger kids. She had the two other girls—Amaya, who was about nine, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and Issa, who was four, with black skin, wildly curly black hair, and grey eyes. They were both good kids, though, like usual siblings, they got on her nerves plenty.
Usually, she had to take care of all the kids on days like this, but Jensa had decided to take the three boys out to help her with errands. That woman was really sweet, it almost made Nevaeh forget about her past sometimes.

“Neeeeeee-vaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” whined Issa, looking up with her big eyes as she used one of the girl’s hated nicknames. ”S’cold!” she complained.
”Yeah!” Amaya replied. ”Can’t we stop in a store or something?” The girl looked hopeful. For someone who had little money, she sure seemed to be a shopaholic.
Nevaeh rolled her eyes and lifted Issa into her arms.
”Don’t you remember? We’re going to the coffee shop so we can get some cocoa,” she replied in exasperation. ”Just bear with me. We’re almost there, and then after that we might be able to do some shopping if we have enough money.”
Although it wouldn’t be likely that they’d be able to buy anything good, like clothes, the younger girls seemed to like candy just fine. She’d get Hershey’s or something.

Finally, Nevaeh found spotted a coffee shop. She hurriedly entered, brushing snow first off of the girls after they entered, then out of her hair and off her coat. Issa immediately ran over to a table that already had some kid sitting at it. The older girl groaned, going over to the table, pulling the other of the three along. The boy would have been tall if he were standing up. He had long blonde hair that mostly covered his eyes. She couldn’t quite tell what color they were from here, but from the looks of it they were somewhere around brown, she thought. He was definitely attractive, and she couldn’t stop her heart from fluttering just a little at the first glance. But she hadn’t developed an immediate crush or anything. As if she needed to deal with THAT right now.

Her cheeks heated up a little bit, feeling more than a little embarrassed.
”I’m really, really sorry,” she said quietly. ”C’mon, Issa,” she demanded.
”I wanna sit here!” the child replied. Earning a glare because of her attitude, she added, ”…Please, Nevvy?”
”We should sit here,” Amaya suggested, taking a seat next to Issa before Nevaeh could get out a reply.

How humiliating this was. She was practically a second mother to these kids, and they wouldn’t even listen to her. And on top of that, a complete stranger was watching the whole thing. Nevaeh looked over at him, looking like she felt really bad for troubling him. But these girls weren’t going to move. She gave him a look mixed with humiliation, apology, and pleading after glaring at her adopted sisters.

[This fail is epic. Hopefully it doesn’t destroy your muse, what with how incredibly short it is. D8]