Flee From Our Troubles
In Which A Plan Forms
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts. So sad ...
Okay, so I decided to do this fic, and cause I needed something for a change of pace, and I ended up doing this fic. It is a YAOI! I want to fill this fic with lots of fluff, but first we have to start with a not-so-fluffy beginning, so here it is. This isa fic in Sora's point of view, and you will learn more about his past as the story goes on. This fic will be updates when I can get it, but I have other fics that I am working on, and they are my first priority. Well, they were there first. Constructive criticism is accepted, but no outright flames. So, enjoy, and on with the story! Ja ne!
Edit 4/23/06 - Chapter redone!
They say life is harsh. They say the mind twists and bends to deal with the horrors of what life has to throw at us. But sometimes, it twists so much that it snaps in two. My mind snapped long ago. Who I was, and what I wanted to be was lost; I no longer dreamed, anyways. Now, it was more of a question of where I was, and what was going to become of me.
I felt like a prisoner, which in truth wasn't far from what I really was. A slave. Worthless, helpless, loveless. One fated to loneliness forever, with only memories to comfort them. But the only problem was I had no memories to be comforted with. No dreams to help me through each day. All my memories, all my dreams had been lost to the ebb and tide of life. I was an outcast among men, an untouchable among human beings. I was trapped within my own mind, let alone this building. How many like me had been here, in this very place before? Nobody knew. But all I knew was that this is where my story began.
Somewhere in the far distance, a clock struck one in the morning, the gentle dinging of the clock echoing in ears that had become accustomed to the deafening silence. Suddenly, there was a light, blocked only by the dark shadow of a man.
"Get up, you sniveling brat," the man spat, glaring down at me like I was vermin. And I was. I stood up, and felt weak in the knees as I did the best to do as the man bid. Sleep had eluded me all last night; being forced to scrub the entire kitchen could do that to you. "Get me some clean clothes," he snapped, and I immediately scurried up the stairs past the looming man and his long white hair, and his exotic yellow eyes, out of the dark, dank, and dirty cellar that I lived and slept in, and, finally, into a house of grandeur and splendor. I climbed the steps to the second floor, and entered the room that belonged to the man, and looked at the mess inside.
One may ask why I was so obedient. Why I always did as told for that man. He was my master, cruel and relenting, never afraid to dole out punishments whether they were due or not.
I stared in horror at the gory mess. Though only cleaned yesterday, the room was already in distressing disarray. Crimson fluid lead from the door to the bed, and the bed itself was a jumble and soaked in the red liquid. Ignoring it for now, I ran over to the closet and found fresh clothes inside. Picking some out, I scurried out the door. Weakly stumbling down the stairs, years of malnutrition and my own weariness making me stagger down the way, I entered the first story bathroom where I found the already made bath tub and my master already waiting inside.
I picked up a moistened sponge as I hurried over to the side of the tub. With a hidden grimace, I started to scrub him, cleansing the multitudes of dried blood and dirt. I thoroughly scrubbed the man's well muscled back, chest, and arms, before the sponge was snatched from me and started to clean what was below the water. Finished with my job, I hastily went over to the towel rack, and grabbed a large black towel off of it. I hurried back as he stepped out, wrapping the soft towel around his waist.
I opened the door hastily, bowing my head as he walked past without as much as a murmur of gratitude. He led me through the large house, and up to a spare bedroom on the second floor. I helped my master dress in his robes of fine cloth, and waited patiently for his orders, crouching at his feet. "Clean up my bedroom," he ordered, and stalked outside. Wordlessly, I nodded in agreement. Waiting a moment before following the man outside, I eventually went to the closet to grab a sponge and bucket. Wearily filling the worn bucket in the sink, I returned up the stairs.
A soft sigh escaped my bruised lips before I set to work. Gagging, I grabbed the bloody, dirty sheets off of the bed, and stuffed them carefully in the wooden hamper by the door. Scrubbing off whatever soaked through, I finally deemed the mattress clean enough, just too wet to replace the fresh sheets. My final task was to scrub the floor. Acquiring a brush from the closet, I scrubbed painstakingly long and hard, waiting patiently for the bed to dry off so I could put the new sheets on. I wasn't sure I even wanted to know how the blood had gotten there in the first place; I knew it was gruesome and sick.
By the time the floor was free of any crimson my own fragile knees were starting to bleed themselves, staining through the torn jeans that adorned my weak frame. Standing up with a wince as my back un-kinked, I straightened the worn, ripped shirt and surveyed my work. The bed was finally dry, so I selected some fresh white sheets from the closet, and placed it over the bed, stretching it over the corners of the large mattress. With my cleaning work over, all that remained afterwards was to organize the fresh mess from last night.
Barely finishing by the time my master barged in, I bowed at his feet as he inspected the work I had accomplished in his absence. With an obnoxious sniff of disapproval, he motioned for me to follow him silently and without protestation. I obediently followed, ultimately arriving at a miniscule room. I tilted my head in puzzlement as I racked my brain, searching for an answer to whatever he was doing, for he had never done anything as unorthodox as this in the past. Most "private" affairs were carried out in his own private chambers, where no one was allowed without his pre-obtained consent. With a shove of the door it opened, revealing a small wash basin, only adding to my bewilderment.
"Get undressed and get in the tub. Clean yourself off," he ordered quietly, then left the room. Quickly undressing myself, I cautiously stepped in the tub. There was something suspicious about it all; he was being too nice – well, nice for his standards, anyways. But there was no way to confirm my suspicions, and no way to rebel, either. He was my owner; he held my life in his hands, and had the ability to end it any time he wished. For all I knew, the water was poisoned, although I wouldn't put it past his sick mind. That wasn't even the worst of it. If he ordered me to step off a building, I would have to, willing or not. The word "humane" was not in his vocabulary.
The first thing I noticed as the water surrounded me was that it was cold. Like, freezing cold. I found a torn rag inside and then started to wipe layers of grime and dirt off my body. I scrubbed over all the ragged scars, years of being beaten, tortured, and punished creating a mosaic of disfiguring flesh. Many had faded by now, but some were more clear than others. It was refreshing to finally get the dirt off, but nonetheless, I started to shiver. By now the water was a murky brown, showing me just how long it had been since my last bath.
A sudden intrusion for the second time today made me jump, the frosty water sloshing around me. Inspecting me with a critical look in his eyes, he threw a towel at me – a silent order to get out. My master stared at me the entire time, a predatory glint in his eyes. My face heated up in embarrassment, and I realized I was blushing brighter than a tomato underneath his lustful gaze.
Wrapping the threadbare towel around my waist, I grabbed my old clothes and began to slip them on, but the man seemed to have snapped back to his senses. "No, don't put those on, put on these," he commanded, throwing me a pair of new clothes. My eyes widened as pair of jeans and a t-shirt met my eyes, and I put them on, Master watching every movement of my thin body. His glazed over look frightened me, and I silently wondered what the cause behind it was. I had a feeling in the back of my mind, telling me that I already knew, and I wordlessly gulped in fear.
An eternity of him staring at my naked body finally passed, and I was led by the slave collar around my neck (not really much more than a rope leash and collar) through the house, finally ending up in front of the door. Tugging me outside, we walked for a long time before coming to an alleyway, tucked deep within the dark city. I had seen so many spectacular things that I my head was spinning as I was obliviously led into an alleyway. I was so wrapped up in everything that I didn't notice the dark figure standing there. So, of course, when he suddenly spoke, I nearly jumped ten feet high, but the rope around my neck held fast, restricting much movement.
"Is this the boy?" the man asked in a low raspy voice.
"Yes, this is him," my master replied.
"Hmm … Looks cute enough. A virgin?" the dark figure questioned, surveying me with the ease that came with years of practice.
"Yes, a virgin," my master answered.
"Good, good," the other man muttered to himself. "Hmm … I'll take him. What's your name, boy?" he pressed me.
Take me? Take me where? I opened my mouth to tell him my name, but no sound came out. I tried again, getting the same result. Not that it mattered; I couldn't remember my name anyways.
"His name is Sora," my master answered for me. "It was the name he had when I acquired him." Sora? That's my name?
"Okay, well, Sora," the man jeered, saying my name like it was vulgar. Handing a large sack full of what I assumed was money to my master, he muttered, "You are to come with me." By now I was seriously confused. I gave a questioning look towards my master. All he did was nod in acceptance, much to my dismay, and toss the leash to the man. He grabbed the rope and tugged mercilessly on it, and I almost fell forward, but caught myself before I did. He dragged me along, and I had to speed up to keep up with the man's large strides. "Your last master, Ansem, was too nice to you," the man hissed.
Ansem was nice? Shaky hands reached underneath my shirt, feeling the numerous scars running all over my chest, back, and arms. I knew that there were many more lower on my body, but in the haste I didn't receive time to feel those.
"Well don't get to comfy," the man snapped as he turned the corner sharply, me stumbling after him. "You are going to be working, long and hard for me. You will also have to learn how to talk."
Yeah, easy for him to say. But I don't even remember what my voice sounds like, let alone be able to speak with it. I haven't used it in so long, I can't remember. He led me to a large building that had a lot of big flashy lights in front of it. He led me inside, and it looked like a bar of some sort. But then I saw a bunch of girls wearing skimpy outfits, and it suddenly hit me. Ansem had sold me to a strip bar. Oh, fuck. Now I was going to have to degrade myself even more for people that I don't even know! And I thought getting undressed in front of my old master was embarrassing enough!
A harsh tugging on my collar brought me back to reality. With a push I was shoved into a back room on my right, the smell overwhelming. The only cushion to my fall was a hard bed – not very comfortable at all. "This will be your room for now on. You had better rest up. Your first show is tonight. You will put this on," he said throwing me a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt, "and you will strip at my club tonight. And no complaining. Be prepared, because with your body and looks, somebody might have you in their bed tonight, if you know what I mean." He slammed the door afterwards, giving me a little bit of privacy.
Disdainfully surveying my surroundings, I was disgusted with what I saw. Admittedly, it was cleaner than the cellar, and it actually had a bed, but it was definitely not better. For one, it was smaller. A lot smaller. Two, the stench sex and cigarette smoke ran rampant. And three, it was located within a strip club, therefore meaning that I would have to work here. I curled up in a little ball on the corner of the bed and wept silently for a few minutes.
'What the hell am I going to do? What can I do? I want to stay a virgin, and I want to be free. I don't want to be a slave anymore. Not that I ever did, but now I wish I wasn't more than ever. What can I do?' But then it hit me. 'I'll run away! I can leave right now. I'll have to, if I want any chance of getting out.'
Rummaging through a nearby lost and found, I obtained a blue bag, a second pair of clothes, and, to my surprise, a knife. Grabbing them, I snuck back to my room, and used the knife to cut the rope around my neck. There was a mirror in the room hidden behind some boxes, and I used it to check my appearance. My cinnamon brown hair was mussed, and the shirt that I had been given covered my arms so that nobody would be able to see the scars that lined my arms. My sapphire eyes looked dull and unexcited, even a little bit fearful. But then again I was scared, so I figured that it was normal. Small scars created a tapestry on my neck, places where the rope that had been on me for so long had cut into my delicate neck. I noticed that even some reopened, probably from the man's rough tugging. But what surprised me the most was that for the first time since I was seven, I looked … normal. I looked like a regular fourteen year old boy.
I silently left the room, and went over to the cash register, finding it was busy at the moment. I looked around, and saw a stack of boxes that was just an accident waiting to happen. I tied a string to the bottom box, and waited for the last person in line to get up to the register. I waited till the precise moment when the register was open to pull the string, causing an avalanche of boxes. The women at the counter and the customer immediately went over to investigate, and I snuck over to the register and grabbed all of the money I could from it, and ran out of the front door like there was no tomorrow. I slipped behind an alleyway, and hid behind some trashcans.
The knowledge of how to count, at least, hadn't eluded me, and I realized that I had gotten about one hundred and fifty. That was good, for now. I just hoped that it would last until I could find a safe home. I left the alleyway after stuffing the money in my bag, and with the rest of my newly acquired items, set off. I hurried through the streets, determination of freedom driving me forward. Nothing was going to stop me now.
Okay, so how was that for the first chapter? If I get a few reviews I might post it soon, because I already have it ready to go. So please review, and remember, constructive criticism is welcomed, down right flaming is not. I hope you will enjoy this story, and read my other ones as well. Ja Ne! Next chapter, Riku comes in!