Disclaimer: Do not own anything.

The Kurosaki household was a desolate place after Misaki died. The grass began to grow far beyond regulation length and there wasn't the normal cheery air surrounding the building. It seemed, with Misaki, everything had died. Her beautiful garden that was once full of bright, blooming flowers was now invaded with weeds and empty patches of dirt. The children that used to run around in the backyard had closed themselves up within their rooms. They had become paler, thinner, and more withdrawn. No one thought much of it seeing that their father wasn't in any better condition.

The family was in mourning.

It was one day, two months after his mother's death, that Ichigo realized he would never be allowed to stop mourning. It was a rainy night, much like the night his mother died. Isshin had gone out earlier that day, mumbling something about needing air. It was late at night when he finally stumbled through the front door, making a loud racket as he flung himself onto the couch. Ichigo flinched from his spot in the chair, thankful his sisters were safely tucked in bed for the night. He grimaced as Isshin stood up, making his way towards his eldest child.

"What're you still doin' up?" He asked, swaying from side to side. Ichigo stood up and tried to lay a gentle hand on his father's arm before it was brutally thrown off with enough force to knock the child to the ground. When Ichigo tried to get up, his father kicked a booted foot into his ribs causing the young boy to cry out and fall onto the floor again. Isshin bent down over his son and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him roughly to his feet. The old man put a finger to his lips and made a shushing sound, "Don't want ta' wake your sisters, do ya'?"

Young Ichigo shook his head profusely and his father grinned manically. Isshin brought a hand up and smacked his son harshly across the cheek, leaving a bright red mark that would surely turn into a bruise by the morning. Ichigo whimpered but kept quiet, too afraid that this man would do the same things to his baby sisters if they came down. Isshin's fists came fast and hard for what felt like an eternity before they finally slowed down.

Ichigo was, by now, lying on the ground, bleeding and broken, praying for the pain to end. Isshin leaned over the boy, his face only inches from his own. "It's your fault. If you hadn't killed her, Misaki would still be alive right now. You deserve this pain." He leaned back slightly before spitting on Ichigo's cheek and standing up. "You shouldn't go out at night Ichigo, bad things happen when you're outside alone. You're just lucky I found you before those gangsters killed you."

Isshin then gently picked up his son and brought him over to the clinic area of the house and patched the boy up before tucking him in bed like the caring father Ichigo now knew was nothing but an act.

It was almost two weeks until his next encounter with Angry-Isshin. Everyone easily bought the story of how he was attacked by the local thugs. After say it so many times, Ichigo began to think that maybe that was what really happened.

When Ichigo came home from school that day, his father blew again. Luckily, Yuzu and Karin were spending the night at a friend's house and wouldn't be home until morning.

The beating proceeded much like it had the first time, though it seemed Isshin had learned to stay away from his face, so as to not cause visible attention. Hours later, when his father was too exhausted to continue, he squatted next to his son and whispered cruelly in his ear, "You deserve this." He then stalked away, grabbing a beer from the fridge before going to his room.

Ichigo lay on the floor, blood seeping from his freshly opened wounds, forcing himself to keep quiet as to not incur his father's wrath.

He wanted to tell someone—anyone—what his father was doing to him but every time he went to speak those words resonated in his head, causing him to falter, "You deserve this." It was like a mantra, always in the back of his mind, never letting him forget. His fault. It was his fault.

And his father would never let him forget it.

AN: I know—it's criminally short—but at least I finally wrote it.

I guess you can call this the official end to this story. I'm still doing one shots so fear not—I will not abandon you all!

If you have a request please feel free to leave it in a review or drop me a PM and I will try my hardest to make it happen.

Thank you for those of you who stuck with this story through the end—you all were amazing!

Please REVIVEW! :)