Konichiwa

Wow, I just went to sleep from, like, 3 in the afternoon to now (7:30 in the afternoon). How scary is that, LoL? Anyway, I’ve had this on my computer for a while; I was just too lazy to do anything with it. I finally decided to post it, but – being my usual lazy self – I didn’t check it over. I’m just so not in the mood. I mean, I did a spell check, but that’s about all.

Guess what, y’all! Fluffy’s starting to shed – it’s his first time, and I’m so excited! At first I was freaking out because I went to take him out of his cage, and his eyes were this weird whitish color. It was really freaky. But then I looked it up online – whitish color over eyes – and found out that they usually have that about a week before they shed. I can’t wait to see how he does this … and it’s perfect during vacation because now I can really watch him most of the time. I have a brilliant idea! I’ll take my computer, sit in front of his cage, and just work on Charmed while I watch him – get two things done at once (grin). Anyway, I’m sure none of y’all checked this fic out to read this pointless babble about Fluffy, so I’ll get a move on.

One last thing: I’m hoping my parents will let me get an animal called a sugar glider. (I’d name it Mickey. :P) For any of y’all who want to check out what it looks like, go to google and type in “sugar glider” … simple enough, LoL. They’re so cute (though almost everyone I’ve shown pics to has thought it’s gross) and smart and small (only 6 inches) and just … I really hope they say yes. Please read, enjoy, and review. And if not: read, don’t enjoy, and flame. I don’t mind – really. :)

CHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMED CHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMED

My faith in my father died, my mother cried, and I just stared, numb

I have a vague memory of my sixth birthday, and it was pretty great. There were balloons of every color, streamers hanging from each corner of each room, a cake made with my mother’s careful eye, and a clown doll named Slappy. Aunt Paige gave him to me for a birthday gift and told me he would make me feel safe while I slept. While I share many attributes with my youngest aunt, my passionate fear and disgust of clowns—especially one as creepy as Slappy—was inherited purely from my mother.

Another memorable part was that Leo was there. Yes, Leo—my dad. I know it’s hard to know who he is when the last time I saw him was when I could count the candles on my birthday cake on my fingers. But he was there. He promised he’d help me blow out the candles in case I couldn’t just so that I could have my wish come true, and he did exactly that. That’s one of my distinct memories of him.

Scratch that. That’s my only distinct memory of him.

My wish was that Mommy could have a normal life just like the way she always said she wanted it to be. I know: I was a strange kid considering most kids my age would wish for a racecar or a gun. But that’s what happened when you grew up around constant demon attacks, when it was normal to wake up at hourly intervals in the middle of the night, wondering if everyone was still alive.

Mommy didn’t get her normal life, and she didn’t get her birthday wish either. She once told me her birthday wish after I begged and pleaded for hours. She smiled and said she wished Wyatt and I would have a normal life. It was like my wish only switched around a bit.

But Wyatt’s life and mine were just as normal as hers. We were prepared for demon attacks every day, we even carried potions in our backpacks just in case we were caught on the way to school, and we got extremely artistic with our lies when we came into class with particularly nasty bruises on any given day.

After Leo helped me blow out my candles, he pulled Mom aside to talk to her about magic and how it connected with us boys. He said he wanted us transferred to Magic School so that he could spend more time with us. Mom said that if he wanted to spend more time with us, nothing should get in his way. She also added, “Not a chance in hell. My boys will not give up their semi-normal lives so that you can be a bigger part in them.”

To which Leo responded, “They’re my sons, too.”

“Oh yeah,” Mom challenged. “I’ll believe it when you start acting like it.”

And that was the end of that conversation. Leo orbed out immediately after that, and I was left standing in the threshold watching the entire time. My mom had silent tears coursing down her cheeks, and I watched her, dazed. Mom never cried; she was the strongest person I knew—and not just because of her ability to shatter anything with a lazy flick of her wrist.

After her tears had dried, she turned to exit the kitchen and go back to the party—my party—and finally noticed me standing there. She hesitated, unsure of what to say and of whether I had even heard the entire conversation.

“Chris?” she asked tentatively.

Silently, I turned around and left the room.

After all the times I had expected Leo—Dad—to orb down and had been disappointed, I shouldn’t have felt so rotten now. After all, the pain shouldn’t have been this prominent when I knew it so well by now. I should have been able to store it all away in the corner of my heart so that all I could feel was a dull throbbing of ache.

Should, should, should…

The truth was plain and simple: I was a six-year-old boy who was abandoned by his own father. And not just once either. He made empty promises that even the most simple-minded person should be able to honor, and then he’d conjure lies about actually being sorry.

“I’ll never do it again,” he’d say, and the sad thing was I believed him every time.

By then it was obvious they were merely lies to soothe his own guilty conscience. After all this time, I should have known not to trust him. But the truth was it ripped me anew when he sent another letter down saying how profusely sorry he was for being unable to attend whatever it was he was supposed to attend. Every single time… I just wanted to sit down and cry.

Little boys weren’t meant to be broken.

CHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMED CHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMED

My mother died, my brother cried, and I just stared, numb.

I was a witch, so naturally I should have been used to that kind of thing—seeing my mother’s crumpled form and knowing she would never smile at me again. At least, not so I could see it. And though I knew she’d still be watching over me in the Afterlife with Grams, Grandma, Aunt Prue, and everyone else who had preceded her in death, it wasn’t the same. But I was a witch, so I should have been prepared for that feeling of heartbreak when I stood by her coffin at the funeral. It shouldn’t have hurt so much.

But little boys weren’t meant to be broken.

CHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMED CHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMED

My brother’s soul died, my aunts cried, and I just stared, numb.

He fought so hard to be good; you couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had to go through. No one ever understood him. They just assumed he would be the greatest force of good the world had ever known. Maybe so, but he was also a sixteen-year-old kid who lost his mother and had no loving father to speak of. He was, in all senses of the word, an orphan. We both were, the only difference being that I didn’t have the weight of the world resting on my shoulders.

I do now, but that’s only because he gave up. I don’t resent him for it, not in the slightest bit. I figure that, after all these years of carrying the burden of leadership, the least I could do is take it off his hands for a while. I just wish I knew he was coming back.

No matter what anyone says, I love my brother—always have, always will. He’s an evil overlord (of course, claiming he isn’t evil or good, which is a twisted form of evil in and of itself). He’s killed thousand upon thousands of innocents, of parents, of families, of little orphans and infants.

When he first killed an innocent, I was so disbelieving that I refused to listen to the “lies” from the sole witness—from the husband of the woman who had been murdered. She was against my brother, a conspiracy.

And then, of course, I went in search of the man I had known as my brother for seventeen long years. As it turned out, the husband wasn’t lying. His words were the bitter, vile truth. The very thought of Wyatt killing one he was meant to protect made me sick to the stomach. For days after I learnt the truth, I was too nauseas to even take a bite to eat. Three days past before someone forced me to ingest some sort of nutrition. I was too out of it to remember whom it had been who saved my life. I’m still not sure if I should thank him or curse him for that act.

All I could recall from that time were Wyatt’s words, still ringing in my ears, haunting my dreams. “I know what I’m doing, Chris. Trust me.”

Trust me.

I always trusted my brother, and I would willingly do it again. Or so I thought. But really… who could possibly trust someone who murdered witches just for the hell of it?

Obviously I could. Wyatt had been counting on that family bond to help me accept the truth. He hoped that I would refuse to attack him due to the family obligations I felt still applied. However, I refused to play that game. I firmly told myself that, if it ever boiled down to it, I would kill my brother. For the Greater Good.

Yeah right.

He was evil, but he was still Wyatt, no matter who told me differently. Even though he turned into an egotistical bastard who cared nothing for anyone, I couldn’t help but set myself up to take the fall. Because I would always—always—believe the lies Wyatt fed me. It was inevitable, and Wyatt knew it. Like medicine, I would swallow his words of, “It’s for the Greater Good, Chris. I know what’s best for the world; I’m saving it, aren’t I?”

And I would soon find out what a blatantly devious tale that was. Wyatt was nothing more than the Hitler of the twenty-first century. As much as I tried to deny it, Wyatt was lost to me—had been from the moment we buried out mother.

I should have been prepared for this, though. Why I hadn’t I seen it coming or at least not been surprised when it happened. After all, Wyatt was just another casualty of war. His soul had been lost to evil, end of story. I shouldn’t have fought against destiny so much. This was obviously Wyatt’s destiny; how could I fight it? I merely had to accept the fact that my brother was evil and move on.

But little boys weren’t meant to be broken.

CHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMED CHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMED

My fiancée died before my very eyes, murdered by the one person I used to revere more than anyone in my entire life. My fiancée died before my very eyes, and I just cried, broken.

She tried to save my life. She was good in the end the way I knew she was destined to be. She promised me that she would never return to Wyatt, and Bianca was nothing if not careful with making an oath. She hated going back on her promises, and this one was no exception. She risked her life to save mine, and she didn’t…

It was my fault…

Even when I had no idea where my plan was headed, she held firm faith in me. She gave me hope where all hope had been lost. Here, I had the opportunity to save the world; and I was completely clueless as to how.

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast.” Her voice was trembling, weak after only a few seconds of exerting her powers to keep Wyatt incapacitated. I knew even then that she wouldn’t survive. No one attacked Wyatt and lived to tell the tale. Still, she stared into the face of death, claiming courage where I would have had none. She was the bravest woman—person—I knew or would ever meet.

“I can’t hold him for long.”

She didn’t hold him for long—just long enough for me to reclaim the powers he had stolen from me. By the time my powers were returned to my body, it was too late. Wyatt kicked her—oh god, Bianca—and she flew backwards like a pathetic rag doll, no match for my omnipotent brother. She never even stood a chance.

“NO!”

God, there was so much blood, the crimson staining my childhood home with anguish. Tears cascaded down my cheeks in rivulets. Even before I heard her gasping breaths, I knew she wouldn’t make it. Even if she did miraculously escape death at this moment, Wyatt would never let her elude his revenge—justice, he would call it.

“Haven’t we been here before?”

Death was literally a mere inches away, yet she still found the strength to pull through a bit longer.

“Maybe we will be again.” For her sake, I smiled, pain behind the expression. And sorrow. So much sorrow. I was being ripped apart from the inside.

“Maybe…” I couldn’t bear to look at her anymore, so I closed my eyes, our fingers intertwined, and leaned my head against her chest. Perhaps, if I didn’t see her fatal injury, it would vanish into thin air.

Suddenly, she pressed the cold, stone engagement ring into my palm. I stared at it, her words of, “If you can finish what we started,” barely registering in my mind.

I nodded, eyes riveted on the ring I had presented to her before my trip to the past. She’d returned it to me as a keepsake just before I left. And when I had thrown it on the table, breaking the engagement and our vow to love each other ‘Until death do us part,’ she had retrieved the token. And now I felt pain stab my broken heart.

She risked everything for me while I stood there and hated her. After all I had done and said in the past, she still gave up her life for me. A willing sacrifice.

“Take the spell so he can’t send anyone else. Go.”

I didn’t want to leave, but I did. I left the love of my life in the future to die all alone. Although she risked her life for me, I didn’t even stay with her in death. All she had to keep her company was Wyatt. Wyatt the monster.

And then I heard the soft, simple condolence of, “I’m sorry.”

Phoebe was sorry. Yeah, well so was I. So, so sorry. And it hurt… it just hurt so damn much. It was the raw anguish and grief of a heart being ripped out of a still living body—like mine was—of losing the one person who was left—like Bianca was to me. I lost my will to live that day.

Little boys weren’t meant to be broken, but of course I always was.

CHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMED CHARMEDCHARMEDCHARMED

A/N: (A) I know it’s depressing. (B) Like I said before: I didn’t look it over before posting it, so it’s probably not too great. But … I wouldn’t mind if I got some reviews for it anyway (bats eyelashes). All right, I’ll leave y’all alone. But remember …

… I can’t think of anything for y’all to remember. :) Okay, fine, forget I said anything. Now, click that little review button, and go ahead and tell me how (fill in ADJ here) I am.

Ki o tsukete ne

-Shan-