All's Fair in Love and War

Chapter One


He stood at the kitchen sink. Rough, calloused hands worked their way around soapy dishes. He scrubbed vigorously at the grime stuck on it, knowing that if he didn't do it right this time he would pay for it. Picking up a sponge he rubbed at one spot on the dish and worked on it until it shone a brightwhite that stuck out from the surrounding grim and grey walls of the kitchen. After finishing with one, he carefully placed it on the stack of clean dishes. He smiled contently to himself after nicely cleaning five dirty dishes. He looked at the clock on the stove. It read 6:23. 'Good' he thought to himself. He was getting faster. He figured he'd be finished by 6:35. That meant he had at least an hour to himself. Or at least and hour before 'he' woke up.

The boy was alone. His normally pale toned flesh was dimmed to a dull off-gray due to the ill-lit kitchen. The glass windows on the doors near the connected living room provided some decent light during the day, but the sun was still under the horizon, lazily drifting up to signal that he had, indeed, survived another summer in a house that he would never, on his life, call home.

Sighing happily to himself, he grabbed another dish. 'Oh, I'm running out of soap.' he thought, looking at the almost empty bottle in front of him. He whirred around to face the cabinets but the dish accidentally slammed into the couter, knocking it out of his hands and onto the floor. It shattered into an uncountable amount oftiny pieces. The high pitched scream of the breaking porcelain still echoed through the house and pulsed in the boys sensitive eardrums.

He waited and listened; listened for the sound that scared the life out of his small lungs and racked his fragile body with a horrible pang of paralyzing fear. He remained motionless, still. From the looks of it, one might have guessed he was a statue made of the most breakable porcelain. Even his chest remained still; only small slowly drawn breaths escaped from it. And then it came. The thumping of feet and frustrated growls erupted from somewhere in the house.

Realizing what had just happened, he fell to the ground, scurrying to clean it up before 'he' found out. He had mostly all of the shattered peices in his arms and dumped them into a near by trash bin. He sighed. Maybe he could get away with this! Maybe the person in the nearby room would go back to sleep and he would be temporarily postponed from the pain he knew he was due for.

Or not.

Thumping was heard in the room and it came closer to him. The boy stood still as his heart raced. He closed his eyes, bracing himself.A giantfist came crashing into the boys jaw, slamming him into the marble countertop. Along with it came a sickening cracking sound. The boy winced in pain, his ears flattening against his white hair which messily dangled over his face. He clenched his eyes shut tight as hot tears neared their formation on the wet reflective surface of his brazen eyes; eyes that once shone as the sun. But years of neglect and pain had dulled them down to a form of unsightly cold brass eyes, hideous, in comparison to their former awe and loveliness.

"Boy." the man said his ice cold breath raining down on the back of the childs neck. "You broke my plate, you woke me up. You have been bad today. You will be sorry. Mutt." he smushed the boys head further into the countertop at his last remark. Unknowingly tothe child, the man's upper lip quivered in sheer disgust at the small boy. Not at thechild's face, nor his slim andnearly deteriorating body, but at the word 'mutt'. The dog ears on the child's head were mashed uncomfortablybetween his head and the counter, so he slightly adjusted himself so that he wasn't in such an uncomfortable position. However, his problems were not over yet.

The man knelt down to the ground he picked up a sharp bit of the shattered plate and held it tightly in his hand. A razor sharp edge of the broken plate was tainted pink from the rising sun that shone through only a few available windows. Though to the boy, that warm, yet sharp dazzle of light pink, formed from one of the beautiful wonders of nature struck nothing but incomparable fright in the quickening pace of his heart.

Lifting up the boys shirt, he sliced it along his back. The plate cut deeply into his flesh, thick red bloodseeping out of his open wound. He clenched his teeth tightly together, his little fangs almost cracking under the pressure. Finally the pain was so bad he couldn't keep it in any longer. He let out a short high pitched yelp that had an odd semblance to a dog when it is kicked, and let it ring through the household. The man behind him pushed the shattered porcelain a little further into his back before withdrawing the weapon and cleaining it under cool water, watching the evidence slip down the drain and dissappear.

"Take a shower shit head. You smell like crap." and with that he took a beer out of the fridge and left to his room.

The tiny childstood frozen to the counter top, his breath returned to him and it created a foggy mist on the black counter. Slowly, carefully, he went to the bathroom to treat his wounds and shower.

He looked in the mirror. A big blue bruise had already started to form on his cheek, and on the top corner of his forehead. He turned his back to the mirror to examine the cut in his back. He decided that it was about four and a half inches long and less thana quarter of an inch deep, the small stab, reaching almost half an inch deep. Reaching into the sink cabinet, he took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and rinsed his back with it. The cool fiz of the foam covered his back and the tingling sensation in his cut told him that the liquid was working.

He really didn't need to do this. His wounds would have healed in a day or so without it anyways. This was just to clean it so he didn't get any infections or anything. He knew if he did, the man wouldn't pay for a doctor unless it was evident to people who saw him. He turned the knob on the shower, not bothering to make it hot.

He carefully took off the remaining articles of clothing.They were nothing butsome old pants and boxer shorts. He had been wearing them for about three months straight now. The smell of them made him sick. With the extra help of demon senses, it made him sicker. He hurled them into a corner of the bathroom, hoping to never have to wear the humiliatinglyodorous clothing again,and slipped into the shower.

The cold water made his body shake and his hairs stood on end. He watched the fluid fall from his back and go down the drain in red and clear swirls. Sighing to himself he closed his eyes and relaxed his tense muscles, massaging his tight arm. The dim lighting and rhythmatic sound of falling water slowly lulling him into a state of relaxation that neared unconsciencousness. He stood in the shower and let the cool water rinse over him and cool his thoughts and wounds. He had turned the lights out before he got in. He liked it dark. He could be in his own world with himself, where no one hated him, no one hurt him. He was safe there. And only there.

Today wasn't just any ordinary day. He could get to go to school today. His feelings about school were mixed, to say the least. He loved it, because it provided protection from the monstrous manhe was forced to live with. On the other hand he was then forced to be with a whole handful of smelly stinking evil children who despised and loathed him just as much as his 'father'loved him, that amount being microscopic, if existant at all.After leaving one world of hate and pain, he would just enter another world of hate. It was his life. He'd gotten used to it. And by now, the pain and neglect wasthe rhythm by which he lived.Besides who cares if they didn't like half blooded demons? He hated humans. Every. Single. One of them. However, he knew none of them would dare lay a single finger on him. Although he may not look it, he was strong. Being halfdemon has it's up sides you know? However the good things are nothing in contrast to the bad ones.

He reached up and rubbed his dog ears gently. They were the only part of his body that that 'thing' had not hurt or touched at all. The man once told him that they repulsed him and that if he touched them it would make him as dirty and bad as the boy himself. He sighed and continued to wash himself.

Once finished, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around histiny and bonywaist. He could smell the fresh scent of eggs and bacon and... was that cereal? The aroma filled his nose and he sighed, closing his eyes, imagining himself devouring all of the food while his 'dad' watched while locked in a cage watching him. He snorted a laugh to himself at the thought. He hadn't felt even this happy for months now. Summer 'vacation' was more like a hellish night mare he wanted to disappear forever.

He went into his room and found his new clothes placed messily on the matress he had for a bed. They weren't anything special. Just a t-shirt and some pants. 'The little bastard must've got 'em from Goodwill or something.' he thought to himself. They weren't very wealthy but they could afford clothing. he slipped into his new clothes after wrapping a bandage around his torso for his cut on his back. He entered the kitchen, knowing that the man would have come storming in there anyways to tell him to clean the dishes or do some other equally tedious and inexciting chore.

The man sat at the table, hungrily devouring all his food on his plate as fast as humanly possible. He looked up at the boy and raised a fat eyelid with a look of mischief and hate that the child knew all too well. "What? You want some?" he waited for the boy to reply, or do anything. "Well it doesn't matter, because you're not getting any." Quickly he ate to his fill, and more, just to spite the child watching him eat. An idea formed in his head. "Hey, I'm not gonna finish this, you want it?"

The boy knew better than to reply 'yes' but hunger took power over his mouth as he mumbled "Okay."

"Fine then." the man said.

"R-really?" the boy said shocked. His 'father' often used food to manipulate him, to reward him, to punish him. When he was 'bad' he didn't eat. Unfortunately he was 'bad' most of the time. Yesterday he only had a small bowl of cereal to eat with a stolen gulp of lemonade.

"Sure." the man said as his lips curled into a horrible smile. "You can have all you want." He turned the plate upside down so that it's contents spilled to the floor. "Now eat it. Eat it like you deserve to eat it. Like a dog." He snorted.

The man walked off laughing inside of himself. The child fell to the floor and quickly devoured whatever food there was left. It was hardly enough to feed him but it stopped the pain in his stomach. Maybe he could steal something from the lunch room today. That would be nice.

He walked down the street and looked up at the sky. So blue, so pretty, he thought. He continued walking on his way to school. The man refused to drive him to school, saying that cars would be a waste on 'monsters' like himself. Who needs that stupid metal box anyways? He liked walking. smirking to himself he strode to school while happily humming. After all, considering the circumstances, today was a good day.

Authors Notes

(Sigh) Fanfiction is making up some rule about not using song lyrics in your stories so I have to take out all my pretty quotes ...(sniff)

Yahoo! I'm redoing author notes. I always make them too long, damn myself.I really have nothing to say, except that if you don't like abuse fics stop reading this one.

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