the first chapter in my HunnyOC story. will not be updated until early January because I am working on my holiday story :) enjoy
i do not own Ouran High school host clue.
That was the word I lived by for fifteen years of my life.
But, I think it is best I tell you about my family, before I dig into my childhood.
My father, Rei Kiddo, is a multimillionaire. He, his father and his grandfather own some of the biggest factories in all of Japan. They make crackers and bread and other types of thing like that.
My mother, Nani Kiddo, married my father at the age of twenty two and has never worked since.
My father and mother only wanted one child. A son. And after being married for five years my mother became pregnant with my older brother, Hideki.
They were the perfect family. They showed my brother off to the paparazzi, made sure their was a camera following them when ever they left the house, everything. They wouldn't even let the maids take care of Hideki. My parents insisted on giving him a bath, putting him to sleep, and changing his dippers. They loved him with all their heart.
But my father wanted perfection. When Hideki was two, my father noticed he was behind in the learning process then the other children in his daycare.
My father hired three different tutors for Hideki. One for teaching him to write, the other to talk and the last to potty train.
My mother was madly in love with my father, so she agreed with all the tutors for Hideki, even though it was like he was being tortured to learn all those things at such a young age.
Looking at this picture, you'd think nothing could happen, right? Wrong.
Three years later, my mother got pregnant again. It wasn't supposed to happen. And, believe me; if they could they'd have gotten rid of me before it got too far. But it would have caused an uproar and my mother's parents would have looked down on her if she did it, her being their only child and all.
So my mother decided to stay hidden. She never left the mansion during her pregnancy and she didn't get attached to me as she did my brother when she was pregnant with him.
And after I was born, my parents wanted to put all their attention back on Hideki, so they hired a nanny/maid to take care of me. She was more of my own mother then my real mother.
At first, I thought my parents would never give me any attention. Again, wrong.
Once I was four, my parents took me back. I had been hidden for too long and they wanted to show the public their daughter.
I remember the first day I saw the paparazzi. I was woken up three hours earlier then normal. The maids dressed me in a frilly pink dress, white tights and Mary Jane's. They curled my dirty blonde hair and put it in pigtails.
After I was clean and dressed, I was led out the front door, where my parents and Hideki were waiting for me.
I wanted to tell them good morning, but I couldn't even get a word out because my mother grabbed my wrist and led me down to the waiting limo. We said nothing on the ride to wherever it was we were going. I remember it was very tense.
After what seemed like a millennium, the limo stopped and the doors opened. First my father and brother got out, smiles pasted on their faces and my dad holding Hideki's hand. Before we went out mom told me to smile like I meant it and she was going to pick me up and carry me into town hall.
I did what I was told, smiled and let my mom pick me up and walk out of the limo with me. Looking back, I kind of understand why I listened to her. I was mostly raised by my nanny and I hardly spent time with my own mother. I would do anything to make my mother happy at that point.
The lights were flashing in my eyes, and it was hard to smile while wincing at the brightness, but I stayed smiling and just waited for it to be over.
I was stuck in the blinding light for twenty minutes. We couldn't go inside because my dad wanted to answer some questions.
They all asked why I was making my first appearance now, four years after I was born. My father explained that he didn't want my first few years of life to be out in public, being harassed by the paparazzi like my brother was.
They bought it. Of course they did. They saw my father as the perfect man. They never thought that he could be upset to have another child. They never thought he didn't care about his daughter. They were wrong.
After that I became their doll. Every morning they would choose what I would wear, and have the maids dress me. I would never dress myself. They would have someone brush my hair and put makeup on me. Then I would be shown to my father's study and he would decide what I did for the day.
And when it came to school, they had me home schooled like my brother. We had intense sessions of learning, sometimes even being hit and 'punished' for getting an answer wrong.
And, after a while, I thought every girl in the world was like their parents doll. I thought the daughters never got a say in their life, the parents always made the decisions.
At 6:27 pm, Tuesday May 9th, I broke.
It was my mother's forty-seventh birthday, even though the number of candles on her cake was thirty-seven.
I was standing next to my parents, my brother no where to be found. He was able to leave two years ago when he turned eighteen and I was thirteen. He told my parents he was going to study abroad in America for a few years and they believed him, when he really left to become a famous musician on some American TV show. So I was left there alone.
My mother was wearing a red, sparkly dress that look like it was lit up when it wasn't, and her makeup was too bright. My father was in a dark tux, his hair combed back to cover the forming bald spot he was getting. And I was wearing a white silk dress, my hair down and curly, and my makeup a mix of pink and white.
My mother told me I could go mingle with the other teenagers there. I obeyed, and walked off.
I started talking to a group of teenagers, the child and her friends of the town mayor. I wasn't listening, just staring at the clock behind the daughter's head.
6:24 pm, "Yeah, mom has been on my back about how I can't go to that concert, but I don't care. I'll sneak out if I have to," I heard the daughter say.
I blinked, and stared at her, "What?" I asked. She nodded, taking a sip of a red drink she was holding, "Yeah. My mom thinks the band sets a bad example, but I already bought the tickets so I'm so gonna sneak out," she explained.
I blinked. 6:25. "But, you're parents don't want you to go. Shouldn't you listen to them?" I asked.
The girl gave me a look, and then laughed.
6:26. "Please! I'm sixteen years old! I have a mind of my own! I don't need to listen to my parents all the time. They're always wrong, anyways. Don't tell me you always listen to your parents?" she asked.
I stared down at me feet and then looked at my parents.
"Yes," I mumbled.
The girl and the other teenagers laughed and walked away.
I broke. I had no idea what was going on. It was like I was in a deep sleep since I was four and now I had woken up.
I walked over to my father and asked to be excused from the party, saying I was tired. He smiled that fake smile he puts on in front of guests and said okay.
I walked out of the room, back straight and chin up, like I was taught to do. I walked up the stairway, down the hall, and then into my room. I closed and locked the door behind me.
I started to bang on the door as hard as I could; I kicked off my shoes and threw my lamps, books, clothes, pillows, blankets, chairs, everything around the room.
After everything was destroyed, I realized something. I would never get my freedom staying here. My brother knew that, and that's why he left. I needed to get out. But how? I was fifteen years old. I had never learned to drive, and I knew no place to go besides town hall and here. Truthfully, I had never even explored Tokyo, the very city I was born in.
I looked at the clock and realized I spent 37 minutes trashing my bedroom. I jumped over the broken glass and grabbed a duffel bag that was stuffed in the back of my closet. I threw on a pair of sneakers I had to wear on the days my trainer would come over every other day and take me to the gym, and then I grabbed a gray hoodie my nanny bought me on my fourteenth birthday without my parents knowing and threw it in the bag.
After that, I realized I didn't have anything that wouldn't give away who I really was. So I quickly made my way out of my room, very quietly, and ran down the back stairwell to the staff quarters.
I walked into one of the maids rooms and started to raid her dresser. I took two pairs of jeans, three t-shirts and a baseball hat and stuffed them in my bag. Then I pulled out another set of jeans and shirt, threw off my dress, and changed into the other set of clothes.
I hid the dress in the hamper and ran out the room and into the kitchen, out the backdoor without the cook noticing (since he was pulling something for dinner out of the oven) and quickly put on the baseball hat to cover my face as I walked past the security camera and out the work entrance.
I never knew leaving was so easy. But the first time leaving, I felt extremely nervous. Two minutes after leaving the house I threw up in the bushes.
When I realized I didn't have my nanny standing beside me with a glass of water, I knew I had a problem. How was I going to get water? And not just water, other things too. Like clothes, food, necessities.
At the time, when I was fifteen, I didn't realize how important it was to think running away ahead of time. You needed to make sure you had money at hand, and all my money was in the bank.
Being the stupid and naïve fifteen year old I was, I simply walked to the nearest ATM and took out five hundred dollars and started walking.
The first night I was lucky enough to find a woman's shelter, and slept there. But by the time I woke up the next morning, a picture of me taking my money out of the ATM was plastered all over the news and so was a fifty million yen reward for my safe return.
I quickly put on my hoodie to hide my face and ran out of that place. The only way I could hid away from those prowlers looking for me to collect that reward was to hide in alleys, bad and deserted neighborhoods, and condemned buildings.
When I was holding that five hundred dollars in my hands the first day on my own, hiding under the covers of that cot in the woman's shelter, I thought it would last me a year, no! Two years! I thought I could make it last that long and by the time I needed more money, they would have called off the search and it would be safe to take more money out.
I was very wrong. I wasn't use to living on the streets, so I kept walking up to the drive thru window at fast food places and asking for something, making sure my face was hidden by the baseball hat or hood on the hoodie. Then I went and washed my clothes at this laundry mat in down town Tokyo, where it was mostly empty at five in the morning. And sometimes, they wouldn't have enough beds at the woman's shelter so I went and bought a room at a motel.
Those five hundred dollars went by in two months.
And sadly, I was naive enough to believe I could withdraw more money out of my account. I put my hoodie up and stood across the street, staring at a 7/11 for an hour to make sure no one else was watching it, or watching me.
I walked across the street, into the 7/11 and jumped when I heard the bell ring when I walked through the door. I glanced over at the man behind the counter, who was staring at me like I was about to pull out a gun and rob the place.
I just ignored his look and walked to the back of the 7/11 to the ATM.
I slid in my bank card, typed in my code and that I wanted two thousand dollars cash. I was so happy that it gave me my money. I quickly grabbed the recite and my card and stuffed them back in my pocket and waited for my money to come out of the dispenser. After a few seconds, it came out and I made my way to the door.
As I made it to the edge of the block, I heard sirens and about five police cars pulled in front of the 7/11.
Four cops ran into the store while five others started checking all the people hanging around the store.
I looked back for a minute, and when my eyes met with one of the officers, I was scared silly and ran down the street, away from the cops.
I heard the one officer scream at the other officers and as I looked back I saw a few following me on foot while the others were chasing me down with their cars. I started pushing and shoving people out of my way, forgetting the manors I was taught growing up, and not caring about the cars passing by when I crossed the street.
I had never ran faster in my life, not even when my trainer made me run five miles in ten minutes. I felt my legs burning after five seconds of running, and my throat was drying up. If it was two months ago, all I would have to do is hold my hand up to my nanny and she'd get my a bottle of water. But the times had changed and I didn't want that life anymore. Although I could have been just as happy without running from the cops.
When I started gaining speed away from the cops because I ran down a road that was blocked with traffic so their cars couldn't get through and they had to get by on foot, they started calling out to the people around me, saying to "Stop that girl!" which caused some people to grab at me or try to trip me.
You have no idea how many times I was tripped but was fast enough to get back up and how many times people grabbed at my hoodie and held me back. Some man actually grabbed my collar and I had to bite his hand so he'd let me go before the cops got close enough to grab me.
When I saw a cop car waiting at the end of the street, I knew I was pinned. But as I started looking around for another place to go, I saw a building under construction so I ran into the street, jumping over the hoods of cars and ignoring the honking of the horns as I did it, and ran into the open door of the building.
The construction workers yelled at me as I ran by and then yelled some more when the cops ran in. I found the service stairs and ran up them. After making it to the third floor I realized my duffel bag was too much of a burden to carry while running from the cops, so I threw it down the stairs and kept running.
I realized how easier it was to run without that stupid bag, completely forgetting I had my clothes in it.
The building had thirteen floors and as I made my way up to the roof, I realized the police was were at least five flights of stairs behind me, but coming up fast.
I found the fire escape and ran down them. But I knew they'd know I was going down them, from all the noise it made. I was trapped.
But, then I thought an angel was looking out for me, because only a jump away was another fire escape, with an open window into a dark apartment on the other side.
I pulled myself up and over the bars, jumping across and grabbing for dear life onto the other fire escape. I pulled myself over and jumped into the window right as I heard the cops running down the fire escape from the other building.
I made my way to the door of the apartment, and I was so thankful that no one was home at the time, and I opened the door and walked out. Sure, someone was going to wonder why their door was unlocked once they got home, but I was sure they were happy that nothing was stolen.
I took the stairs down to the first floor and asked the man at the front desk if they had a back door. He gave me a weird look, but nodded and told me through the kitchen, and then showed me the way himself.
That was the first time I dodged the cops, and I dodged them another three times after that. After the first time though, I learned to never take money out of my ATM again. I even took the scissors in that kitchen and cut up my bank card.
The man gave me a weird look, but continued to lead me out to the back door. I escaped and hid in an alley two blocks away for over five hours after that, scared stiff that they would find me.
That was the first day I knew that I had no one to protect me like at home. And because I had lost my clothes, I couldn't waste my money on clothes or important necessities until I could find a job, so I had to deal with the clothes on my back. Which wasn't good because when you go in for a job interview, they want you to wear clean clothes (I learned that the hard way).
After four months of hiding and having no luck getting a job, I just gave up completely. I was shown the cold shoulder of society. Because of the way I looked (and smelled) they immediately thought 'ignore her! She's only a speck! No need to pay attention to her!' and they walked on, even when I was hogging half the side walk by lying down on it because of how tired I was.
I didn't care. I spent some time at a woman's shelter when I needed sleep or wanted to wash my hair and get a free meal, but after walking in and then seeing all the people who were turned away because they didn't have any more beds, the pregnant teenage girls, the old woman, the single mother with her children or infant, I just felt so guilty and felt that they needed the bed and free meal more then me.
So soon I started going to the shelters less and less until I just started sleeping on park benches or in alleys and washing my hair in rivers or lakes, or in the bathrooms at gas stations. I was use to it.
Sure, you are probably wondering, "Why is she putting up with this? Why doesn't she just go back to her home where she has a bed and food and clothes and can wash her hair? Why would she live like a homeless person? Sleeping on the streets, scratching and saving for food, risking getting illnesses and infections by living on the streets." I've wondered that many times too.
But I want you to think about this. I was controlled, a little doll in my parents life. I had no freedom in that hell hole of a home. But, here on the streets, I might have to sleep with rats and other bugs and rodents, I might have to go a few days without something to eat, and my blonde hair might get so dirty it looks black, but at least I can do what I want. I have freedom on the streets, unlike at that place.
I would rather be homeless with my freedom, then have a home and be a prisoner…
to be continued...
i hope you enjoyed and please review and I hope you can wait at least a month for the next chapter. :)