Please, Don't Break Your Promise

Part I Chapter 4

[A/N] Let's delve into the past a little, shall we? Prepare the tissues. Puffs Tissues would be the softest because you're gonna need it :D

Ever awaiting fans,

Jinx

Part I Chapter 4

The first time was when Ryan and I had been seven. We had both been adopted. The family was nice enough and we even had a little baby sister. That all changed after our foster father found out his wife was cheating on him and had been cheating on him long before the baby was born.

****

Two weeks into our stay with them, our foster father came home drunk late at night. He started cursing and throwing things in the room.

Ryan and I huddled in the corner, terrified, trying to stay away from the line of fire and vision of the man. I held the baby; Sophie was her name, in my arms, covering her face with her blanket so she wouldn’t see the craziness before her. Our foster mother pushed us forward, into his direct sight, trying to use us as a shield.

It worked, for all of five minutes, by which Ryan and I were on the floor, both hurt, me with my broken arm, and him with a bloody nose. Sophie had fallen from my arms, and she struggled against the blanket, her wails grabbing the man’s attention. He picked her up, holding her close for a moment before his face contorted in rage.

“Is she not mine, either!” he yelled at the lady. The lady just shook her head, her tear-stricken face bewildered. She turned and ran through the huge archway in the living room to the connected kitchen. Ryan and I had grabbed each other again and, huddled on the living room floor, we watched a tragedy unfold before our eyes.

The man went after the lady, Sophie still in his arms, chasing her into the kitchen, where she had a knife in her hands. It wasn’t enough to stop him. In a matter of minutes, he had taken the knife from her and stabbed the baby before her eyes. The wail that echoed rang into the night, laden with pain and terror and baby innocence. Sophie’s wails were cut off too suddenly and we knew she was gone.

The lady didn’t even blink at the baby’s death. She only tried to move further away from the man.

He turned on the lady, dropping Sophie from his arms. He stabbed her and kept stabbing until nothing remained of her face and tattered clothes but a bloody mess. His bloodshot eyes swung to us, but instead of coming towards us, he turned the knife on himself and stuck it into his chest, blood gushing out of the now open wound.

Silence followed. Death was the only sound, so loud that it thrummed in the still rooms of the house. I slowly rose from beside Ryan, walking staggeringly towards the man, the lady, and Sophie. I pulled her into my good arm, tears streaming down my face as I looked at her tiny little body.

Her face was morphed in pain and blood covered her once soft pink blanket. Her eyes stared into nothingness, glazed, emotionless but knowing at the same time. I softly shut her eyelids, a sob escaping my throat, as pain and sadness engulfed me to the core.  

I walked over back to Ryan. He hugged me, as we both cried softly. Hours later, the police found Ryan and I passed out on the floor in the living room, with Sophie’s body cuddled between us, like three perfect siblings.

****

We were sent to another orphanage. And after that, each time we were both adopted, something bad had happened to the people around us, especially someone we loved. A sister, a brother, an uncle, grandma, cousin, friends; whoever they were, ended up befalling one accident or another.

Each time, they would say the five words I always wanted to believe, “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

But it never was, and soon, people stopped adopting us. As a last desperate measure, we had run away together, and have been on the run since. The grim events never stopped following us.

We soon realized this when the group we had attached onto that first time after we had run away, died in a huge apartment fire not three weeks after we had arrived. Ryan and I had been the only survivors in the whole apartment.

Now here we were, two years later, and still trying to avoid what would surely happen if we didn’t leave soon.   

****

We arrived at the market place. Ryan and I cautiously made our way around the stalls, trying to decide what to buy and if we really needed it or not. A cold breeze blew past and, shivering, I stuck my hands into my sweatshirt pocket. I felt something cold, and my right hand closed around the music box.

I didn’t take it out. I didn’t want Ryan to know. He would have a fit if he found out that I had taken it out of the bag and hadn’t returned it. After walking around for while, my thoughts began to travel away from our task and focused, instead, on the box.

Ryan was walking ahead of me and didn’t notice that I wasn’t listening to his incoherent rambling, well incoherent to my ears, at least at the moment.

Why was I so drawn to it? Why did I want to keep it so badly? I didn’t know and I was intrigued; I wanted to hold on to it to find out why I wanted to keep it so badly. I wasn’t watching where I was going and as always with such moments, I ended up falling flat on my face. My arms had shot out before me, trying to break my fall, and in the process the box left my pocket and fell to the ground.

I lifted my head, painfully (I knew I would have scratches on it next time I looked in a mirror) and looked for the box. My ears caught the faint sound of the melody and my head turned, my eyes locating the source a few feet away. I stretched out my hand, reaching for it.

A voice yelling, “Freeze!” stopped me. I slowly lifted my head, only to look into the eyes of a very angry man. And fear laced through me.

[A/N] Please VOMMENT >_< !!!