knives and bruises a yuri x natsuki fanfic

Part 13

Old Message(s):

6:46pm: Lilmonix3 - Hiya you two, it's Sayori!!

6:47pm: Lilmonix3 - Are you free any upcoming days??

6:47pm: sugar^and^spice - Sayori! Hi! We miss you. I'm free whenever

6:48pm: Love_For_Literature - It is so good to hear from you Sayori. I am available any time.

6:51pm: Lilmonix3 - I wanna see you guys. You up for coming by the hospital on Saturday? Monika's happy to drive you!

6:52pm: Love_For_Literature - Of course, it would be my pleasure.

6:54pm: sugar^and^spice - You bet, Sayo

6:56pm: Lilmonix3 - Great! Moni says she'll plan it with you later. Visiting hours are up so cya!

Sayori seemed so...normal. Her messages still held that same tone they always had, enthusiastic and upbeat, but...hadn't that all just been some twisted act to mask her true sadness? Things weren't ordinary in the slightest, but Sayori was acting as though she had never even considered taking her own life merely days ago, which just seemed really...wrong. She would have been dead right now if Monika hadn't saved her.

Natsuki scanned the messages with a frown. How often had Sayori been hurting and she had looked right past that all because of seemingly cheery behavior? It seemed so blatantly obvious now that she knew the truth.

Saturday was a good time, though. She could try and arrange to see Yuri on the same day, it would definitely be easier and less suspicious to get permission for both plans if it meant only needing to ask for one day out. Well, she could try at least.

Natsuki jumped up from her desk where she had been powering through some homework, taking a soothing moment to gather her thoughts before venturing out of her bedroom.

It was time to find papa.

Her breath rattled through her lungs as she inhaled deeply, clenching and relaxing her fists rhythmically to relieve the creeping tension as she walked down the stairs on stiff legs, her weight creaking the old wood below her feet. The droning buzz of the television radiated from the living room; Papa always kept the blinds closed, presumably to shut her in from the outside world, and so the house was kept fairly dark at most times of the day. The colourful light from the television flickered in union to the sounds, lighting the hallway with an eerie glow.

Screwing her eyes shut, she breezed through the doorway into the living room, her heart pounding against her ribcage. He was sitting in his chair, a battered, old leather thing that had been his pride and joy before her mother died.

He looked up and caught her eye briefly before grunting dismissively and turning back to the television, taking a swig from the glass bottle clamped in his hand. Alcohol, likely. The whole room reeked of it. She stood her ground, arms crossed firmly over her chest.

"Papa, ca-" she didn't get far before he slammed the bottle onto the surface of the coffee table, startling her. Dammit, you idiot, you were supposed to act tough.

"Stop parading around with those ugly marks on show." He spat, distaste staining his tongue as he gestured to her neck. It took all her willpower to resist scowling at the remark. After all, if he could merely control his own short fuse she wouldn't even have the bruises in the first place. He pointed a meaty hand to the coat rack behind her where she had flung her scarf earlier. "Put that back on."

Natsuki huffed and did what she had been ordered to, puffing her chest out as she did so. She wasn't about to appear weak in front of him again. When she approached him once more he had a sickeningly sinister smile on his face and looked fairly pleased with himself. "There now. Much better."

Bastard.

She tried again, ensuring her voice remained firm. "Papa, can I go out on Saturday?" He watched her levelly as she paused for a moment. "Please?"

His dark, narrowed eyes never left hers as he took another swig from the bottle slowly. "You have been out an awful lot lately," he said quietly, which was all the more unnerving than the shouting. "It better not be a boy..."

She resisted rolling her eyes. As if. She was going to have to pull the pity card, wasn't she? "You remember Sayori?"

His smile turned disgustingly fond. Ugh. "The pretty little one, yes?"

"She's not well, I wanted to visit her in the hospital." She could practically see the cogs working in papa's mind, his internal debate whether she was telling the truth or lying through her teeth painfully clear. Eventually he shrugged.

"Fine, whatever. Be back before dark." Natsuki's breath escaped her in one relieved sigh, the tension draining from her quickly. She turned to leave, but halted as his voice picked up once more, the tone dark and humorless. "But, if I find one bit of evidence that you're out with some little twat you'll be joining your friend in the hospital." She shivered. That's assuming Yuri would fit under that category...? Her thought process ceased as he hummed in approval, his eyes overbearing and heavy on her back. "That scarf is cute, you should wear it more often. You're a real cute girl, Natsuki."

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Nausea bubbled in her stomach and she bolted, fleeing up the stairs on trembling legs. She was weak. All she could do is run from him, she never stood up for herself like any normal, stronger person would. There was only a fraying, weak thread keeping her tough womam attitude in place, once that finally broke everyone would see the scared, fragile little girl she tried so hard to obscure from the world.

She cried out in frustration, kicking her chair with enough force to hurt her foot and pulled the scarf roughly from her neck, throwing it onto the floor. He disgusted her beyond belief, but she just simply wouldn't do anything. There were plenty of options to escape, she knew that, but she just didn't have the courage to try. She was too afraid.

He was corrupting her slowly, she could feel it every day clawing at her. Over the years he'd started testing the boundaries of what she let him get away with; first it had been invading her privacy, then the name calling, then the shouting, then the hitting. Fuck knows what his next step would be.

No, she was fairly certain what it would be. But she didn't want to believe that monster had the capacity to do anything even remotely like that to her. She felt like she had a taunting timer ticking away far in the distance of her cluttered mind. But each second she neared her eighteenth birthday it edged closer and closer and closer, the ticking becoming louder and more maddening.

And then he'll morph you into a fresh, twisted version of himself.

Ultimately, that was her biggest fear. Tears stung her eyes, fear sparking a light in her chest. It was the last thing she wanted, to turn out like him. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she ever even remotely followed in his corrupted footsteps, but she knew it would happen if she continued to allow him to influence her so easily.

Her sour attitude, her snappy remarks, her insults...they all traced back to him. He was contorting her slowly, manipulating her into his own little revolting prototype for chaos. And she couldn't, wouldn't, stop it. All because she was too fucking weak to.

With trembling fingers she took her phone, typing a quick message to Yuri.

7:13pm: Natsuki - I can come over after we visit Sayori

7:13pm: Yuri - That works.

Okay, that was settled at least. She flung her phone onto the desk with another sharp, angry cry before collapsing onto the bed, her fragile resolve finally crumbling under the ever increasing pressure. She sobbed, using a pillow to muffle her cries.

She was utterly and completely sick of this.