Death The Kid
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"So what'd you see earlier that you didn't want to tell us about?", Liz asks, resting her arm on my head.
I shuffle my homework into a perfect stack, and concentrate on organizing Patty's mess of papers as she daydreams into who knows where. At least her hat isn't crooked today.
"If you don't do your work, you're going to fall behind and fail", I state matter-of-factly, swatting her arm away.
She throws herself onto the chair next to me, nail polish in hand, and sighs. I've grown accustomed to their personalities, and their after-school rituals. Patty likes to lay around, sometimes go out and shop with Liz, and I'm stuck doing her homework for her. Liz accompanies Patty wherever she goes, but stays up late doing her work. The light from her room throws me off every night- I mean, Patty doesn't have her light on, so there's only one bar of light shining in the hallway instead of two- it irritates me beyond belief, to the point where I can't even sleep until she turns that blasphemous light off!
"Kid, your birthday is coming up, right? What are you planning?", Liz asks, stroking the polish against her nail in one quick swipe.
I watch for a moment, making complete sure she's painting her nails perfectly and evenly, before responding. "I'm going to invite everyone over for a few hours."
"Can we have bubble tea at the party?!", Patty pipes up, slamming her hand against the table repeatedly.
Liz cocks her head to the side, raising one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows. "Who serves bubble tea at a party?"
"Bubble tea is great!", She slumps in her seat, before perking back up. "I like chewing the pearls- they feel like eyeballs"
Liz grimaces, chuckling slowly before turning back to her nails. "We should serve tea cakes and sandwiches."
"I like the idea of bubble tea", I say, not tearing my eyes from Patty's papers. "The barista there always puts eight boba pearls in my drink."
"That place serves food too, don't they?", Liz asks, adjusting her hat. "We could ask if they cater."
"Let's get cake pops!", Patty jumps up, clapping her hands together and dancing in a circle. "Cake pops! Cake pops! Cake pops!"
Liz jumps up as well, trying to calm her down, and I tune out the sound. I focus on writing, filling out the questions, yet my mind wanders to the bubble tea girl- Miss Bubble Tea. She memorized my order, to the T. Do I really go there that much? It's just become a morning routine- it's helped me and Crona bond too. He used to not accept food or drinks from people... Rightfully so, Medusa probably tried to poison him once or twice. He likes bubble tea though, as do the others.
As I finish up Patty's paper, I slide it into her folder, and focus on the next sheet, despite my mind being elsewhere. I never learned her name, yet she knows me. Perhaps I should ask her? Maybe get her contact information for the catering. I'm not sure if that'd be best, though- even when she smiles, she seems on guard. As if she's protecting someone. Well, everyone in Death City's been like that since Asura, even though he's been defeated. Post-apocalypse isn't filled with just celebration- it's caused paranoia to infect the streets. It'll subside eventually, though.
"Kid? Kid!"
I snap out of my bubble tea induced trance, and turn towards Liz, who has one hand on her hip, the other holding her purse. She examines my face for a moment, curious and confused.
"Were you spacing out?"
"Just for a moment. If Patty would do her homework, maybe I wouldn't have!", I bark, but she just giggles and waves as a response. I sigh, and turn back around.
"Patty and I are going out, do you need anything?"
I look up, thinking for a moment, before a smile spreads across my lips. "See if everyone would like to come over for a bit. I'll need help figuring out a date for the party."
"We're on it!", Patty flexes her arms, before Liz drags her out of the room.
My eyes slip back onto the paper, and I slump my shoulders in defeat. My hand is starting to cramp from writing for too long. I lean back in the chair, and fold my hands in my lap. I didn't know Miss Bubble Tea lived so close to the DWMA. She's off work early. Maybe she got sick- No, no, she didn't look ill. I wonder why she was staring at us. Maybe she didn't know I was in the DWMA- no, everyone knows I'm in the DWMA, my father runs the place. Whatever the reason, she didn't want me to know she was looking.
Maybe she's plotting something.
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Sona Bordot
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"Clyde... Clyde", I whisper, shaking him gently.
He moans a bit, his eyes fluttering open before landing upon mine. I smile ever so gently, until I realize the look on his face. I forgot- he doesn't like being woken up. His eyes narrow, his hand snaking up my stomach and chest, finally landing at my throat. I gulp hard, his fingertips wrapping tight around my neck slowly. I let out a forced, shaky breath, feeling the walls of my throat caving in. I shutter, gasp, squirm, but it's no use. He'll always be stronger than me. I stare deeply into his eyes, pleading, begging, and he finally releases me.
I cough, gasping and wheezing for breath as he throws himself to his feet, kicking my side roughly. I let out a pained squeak, falling onto the mattress and holding my stomach. I shouldn't have been so stupid- I should have remembered! Why am I so stupid- why am I so dimwitted!?
"I-I'm sorry", I choke out, reaching out for his hand.
His fingertips brush against mine, but he quickly swipes his hand away, glaring down at me as if I was a puppy in trouble. After a few seconds, I finally catch my breath, and he wraps his hand around my hair, tugging roughly. I fall off the mattress as he drags me across the floor and to the door. I don't dare kick or struggle- he'll rip out my hair. Instead, I lay limply, closing my eyes and awaiting any sort of impact.
"Go get changed. We're going to dinner."
I struggle to my feet, panting and trembling. He lets go of my hair, only after giving me another swift tug, and I drag my feet across the floor and to the closet. I glance towards him as I tear off my clothes- he doesn't look away. As I change, I'm very aware of his eyes on me- of what he's imagining as I stand there naked. I grab a pair of underwear, but before I can slip them over my ankles, he takes a step towards me.
I stare at him, crossing my legs and holding my arms against my chest. He's hungry- I can see it in his eyes, the way they twitch and trace my body. I look down a bit, and take a step back.
"Don't", I whisper, grabbing whatever clothes I can and holding them close. "Don't touch me."
He pauses for a second, before taking more steps towards me, until I'm pressed against the wall, no where else to go. He slams his fist next to my head, cracking the already chipped paint in the wall, and breathes heavily against my neck. Goosebumps prick at my skin, and I can feel his breath trailing down my spine. I involuntarily let out a shaky sigh, and close my eyes tight, setting my hand on his chest.
"Clyde.. Don't", I say more sternly, opening my eyes and pressing my forehead against his. "If you love me, you'll wait."
"Who ever said I loved you?", He growls, restraining my wrists and scrunching up his nose in fury. "Do you really think that highly of yourself, you narcissistic bitch?"
I let out a whimper, fear engulfing every one of my senses, and shut my eyes again. The clothes I had used as protection crumble to the floor, completely useless. He uses one hand to restrain my wrists above my head, and uses the other to trace my waist, gripping my hip tight. I gasp, tears prickling the corners of my eyes.
"Clyde.. Stop!", I start to squirm, kicking my feet, whipping my head every which way. "Stop it!"
"Who the fuck do you think you are!?", His voice seems to shake the entire apartment, and he quickly throws me to the mattress, setting one foot on my stomach and digging his boot into my flesh. "You owe me everything! I could eat your soul right now, and yet, I'm nice enough to spare you. Don't you think I deserve this? I give you everything!"
I let out a squeaky gasp, squirming under his foot. The pain subsides, and I can tell that that's a bad sign. I finally stop struggling, and lay there, weak and defeated. He smirks, removing his foot and climbing on top of me slowly.
I stare at the ceiling, and count the cracks, the cobwebs in the corner, the speckled holes.
He removes his clothes.
I count the cracks.
He touches me.
I count the cobwebs in the corner.
He enters me.
I count the speckled holes.