Name: Concrete Angel
Rating: T ( Language, violence, mentions of rape, possible Adult Situations)
Genres: Drama/Angst/Romance
Pairings: Ichigo/Rukia
AU: Yup!
Summary: All she'd asked for was for someone to love her. Instead, she got a father who abused her, and a brother who didn't care. Rukia was truly alone in the world. Her body's bruised and her heart's broken. Can a rash, ignorant orange-haired teen change that?

Format:

"speaking."
Italics — Fashback.

Centered italics — lyrics.

'Italics like this' — Thoughts in flashbacks.
"Italics like this" — Thoughts in the present story-line.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or the characters. I DO NOT own the song Concrete Angel! It is sung by Martina McBride!


A statue stands in a shaded place,
An angel girl with an upturned face.
A name is written on a polished rock,
A broken heart that the world forgot.


Concrete Angel — I

November 12th, 2007 — 5:22 PM

Kuchiki Rukia shivered in the cold and her small, slim body shook as the wind beat down on her. It was dark ... but she had to get away from there. She couldn't be near those men. Not her father ... not her brother. Her brother never did anything to her; he just watched, which was just as bad, while her body was torn and she was broken and hurt.

He did nothing. He watched as their father's hand landed on her small body again and again, making her bleed and cry. Her tears would fall down and mix with the blood all over her body while her father just yelled at her. She could never do anything; she was a small girl of four foot eight and her father was a very large, strong man.

She walks to school with the lunch she packed,
Nobody knows what she's holdin' back.
Wearin' the same dress she wore yesterday,
She hides the bruises with linen and lace.

Sitting down on the sidewalk, Rukia pressed her hand over her wrist; she was pretty sure it was broken. It was nothing new to her. She knew pain in the largest ways. She had broken bones often, but she just grinned and brushed her teachers off. But she still hated the pain. She would never get used to it.

A stray tear slipped from her eye as she leaned back up against the cold, stone wall. It was freezing outside and her lips were a light blue color, but she didn't care; the cold numbed the pain.

"No father, please!"

"Shut up, you little brat!"

His hand came down on her again and she bit back a scream. Blood was seeping out of her temple and she could feel her legs buckling under her as her father's fist landed in her stomach.

She wanted to cry, to let her tears out, but she couldn't. Her violet eyes stung with the unshead tears as she fell down to the ground, her head slumping on her shoulders.

She wanted the pain to disappear.

"Stand up, you worthless girl!" her father yelled, taking her by the hair and pulling her to her feet. Rukia screamed loudly, her eyes closing as she tried to calm her irratic breathing.

"Please stop," she said quietly.

Her lip was swollen and her eye was black. Her father usually didn't beat her face, for she couldn't hide that at school, but tonight he was being worse. He was hurting her everywere. Her wrists were swollen where he held her in place while he had beat her and her legs and stomach were bruised where he had kicked.

"You're worthless."

The teacher wonders... but she doesn't ask,
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask.
Bearing the burden of a secret storm,
Sometimes she wishes she was never born.

His hand hit her again and again, and still, her brother did nothing. He sat across the room, simply watching.

"Nii-san, please!" Rukia yelled, her tears flowing over as she fell to the ground again. Her father didn't bother to pull her to her feet this time; instead, he kicked her in the stomach as hard as he could as she curled into a tiny ball on the floor. He yelled something else she didn't hear and then walked out of the room, ramming his fist into the lamp on the way out. Rukia winced as it shattered against the wall.

"Nii-san, why didn't you help me ... ?" Rukia asked, sobbing deeply as she curled tighter against the wall. There was no response.

There was never a response.

Rukia shivered again, but this time from the memories that were assulting her mind. It felt as if it were happening all over again.

Closing her eyes, she slumped forward a little. Her body was aching worse now. The once-numbed pain was taking over her senses again as the cold could do nothing to block it out.

Through the wind and the rain...
She stands hard as a stone.
In a world that she can't rise above.
But her dreams... give her wings,
And she flies to a place where she's loved.
Concrete angel.

She just wanted to sleep. To sleep ... and to never wake up.

As the wind beat down on her and the cold snow gently caressed her cold skin, she reached up and probed at a large gash on her face. It had finally stopped bleeding, but it still hurt. Maybe, if she opened it again ... she didn't have anything to cut herself with, nothing to escape this life, but if she opened the gash, just maybe ...

Her hand started shaking; she couldn't do it. No matter how much pain she went though, she felt as though it would all come to an end someday. She felt like she had something to live for, even though she knew she didn't. All she lived for was to be mocked and teased at school and beaten at home. To have her brother look down on her and watch as their father hurt her. To never be loved; only hated in life.

Somebody cries in the middle of the night,
The neighbors hear... but they turn out the lights.
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate,
When morning comes it'll be too late.

"Now I lay me down to sleep ... " Rukia paused as her voice began to shake. She'd whispered this prayer each night since she was five. To most children, it was something they did with a smile, with a father or mother beside them to tuck them in.

But for her, she said it because she was afraid. Afraid that her father would kill her in the night. So she said it because she wanted to be with someone who loved her, and the people at her Sunday School when she was young said that Jesus loved everyone, even people like her. She continued the prayer after forcing her voice back under control. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I die before I wake... I pray the Lord my soul to take."

It was silly, really, that she kept saying it. She knew that no one her age — sixteen — said that prayer anymore. But she did, because it was the only thing she had left of her mom, who had taught it to her. She didn't only say it for her, but for her mother and sister, who were gone.

They'd never woken up.

A statue stands in a shaded place,
An angel girl with an upturned face.
A name is written on a polished rock,
A broken heart that the world forgot.

Her father ... she had only been three. Her sister and mother had been trying to protect her. Her father, drunk, had been trying to hurt her, not them. They had stood in the way, and he hated her for it. He hated her, he blamed her. It was her fault because they had been trying to protect her, a child he had never wanted. He had hurt them, trying to kill her. A innocent, tiny baby girl with bright violet eyes and black hair; just like her father.

He'd wanted a son. Instead, he said, he'd gotten a useless girl who did nothing but cry.

Rukia could feel the tears cold on her cheeks as they slid down. The cold was taking over her body, making it to where she could barely move.

She didn't care. She wanted to leave this life. She wanted ot go somewhere she was loved.

She wanted to die.

Her eyes were closed and her thin, bruised arms were wrapped around her legs. You could tell by even looking at her; she was broken. Both her body ... and her heart.

As she felt her life slowly slipping away from her, she smiled.

But she didn't feel the arms gently wrapping around her body and a coat being wrapped around her thin shoulders. She didn't hear the soft words gently whispered to her, but when she pealed open her eyes, shivering violently, she could see the hopeful, half-smile of the boy that held her so softly, like she'd never been held before.

And his bright, orange hair reminded her of the sun which she had hoped never to see again.

A statue stands in a shaded place,
An angel girl with an upturned face.
A name is written on a polished rock,
A broken heart that the world forgot.


Wow ... depressing. Anyway, I don't know where this came from, but I adore that song. If you have not heard it, go do it! I love it, love it, love it!

Please Review!