Author: Sayuri (sayuri_tama@hotmail.com)

Title: "I understand..."

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Omi + Yohji

Spoilers: Omi's family and past; Yohji's past

Warnings: Angst, Shonen ai, Het, Strong Language, Violence, Implied NCS, Omi-whining

Disclaimer: WeiB Kreuz is not mine, of course. It belongs to the awesome Koyasu Takehito, Kyoko Tsuchiya, and Project WeiB.

Author's notes: This is my first fanfic of any variety. Please chock any blatant blunders and OOC-ness up to inexperience--and please, please comment

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Have you ever been hunted by a dream? A nightmare that swallows you whole and won't let go? A dream so horrifyingly real that you can't escape from your own fear? A dream about rough hands, loud voices, pain...

***

Omi lay awake staring at the cracks in the white ceiling, tracing the irregular lines with his eyes and trying desperately to shut out the images, the sounds.

This was the fourth night this week that he had been caught by his nightmare. It had been months since the memories of his kidnapping had begun to surface, since he had faced the harsh truth about his family and reluctantly accepted the necessity of leaving the past behind. For the most part, it had worked.

Omi cursed softly to himself as he sat up and gazed out the window at the moon. It made him feel sick to be so paralysed by something against which he could not fight; to be hunted by an invisible enemy inside his own mind. To be helpless, weak. He hated feeling weak.

Flopping back down on the sweat-soaked mattress, he squeezed his eyes tight and curled up into the fetal position, hoping for some reprieve from the nightly onslaught.

None came.

***

/I'm all alone, it's dark/

Pain exploding on the side of his face as the hard boot makes contact with soft skin. A strange voice. "You're Dad said he won't pay..."

/Lair!/

A second strange voice, with a harder edge than the first. "I think we ought to get something for our hard work..." Laughter.

Hot, smelly breath in his ear, a heavy body holding his from behind; a second pair of hands ripping at his clothing. "Stupid kid..."

/Help, Papa...save me! Hurry!/

Desperate kicking.

"You might as well not fight."

/not fight?/

"Whore..." Crushing pain. Hot tears.

/don't fight /

/never forgive./