Summary: AU, Song!fic. Nana lives alone with her abusive father. Maybe the storm on the horizon can finally save her, and blow away the hell she has to call home. +Anima present.
My first thought when I heard this song the first time was "Nana, that so fits Nana!" I really needed something like this to get me going with writing again. I'm pretty sure most of those following my stories are getting upset with the time that's passed since my last update... "-_-
Because of complaints I have removed the song lyrics. They can be found here: azlyrics / lyrics / carrieunderwood / blownaway . html (remove the spaces and add the com ending after azlyrics) and the numbers correspond to the lines in the song. The song is Blown Away by Carrie Underwood.
I do not own +Anima :'(
Nor do I own the lyrics to Blown Away
Nana sat up with a terrible jolt, the loud boom of what sounded like a slamming door waking the poor nine-year-old girl out of a dead sleep. Already starting to shake and shiver from fear, she diligently watched the small crack under her door for a bright light to turn on and drown out the dim, fluctuating already present there, something to tell her he had come home.
The second boom made her jump, and the flash of light to her left made the pieces fall into place. Quietly scrambling out of the entangling covers on her bed and over to the dirty glass separating outside from inside, eyes nearly as golden as her long, flowing hair watched the dark clouds rolling across the horizon with deep fascination. Bolts of pure energy streaked from those dark masses to the ground far in the distance, capturing her attention for several minutes before she chanced a small glance back over her shoulder at the banged up door to her room.
The front door flew open with such force she feared the hinges would break as it hit the wall. Anger glowing in his eyes at nothing in particular yet everything at the same time, the man stomped through the open door with the rage of a rabid bear, taking just a short moment to glance down at the small girl huddled in front of the couch before slamming his fist through the thin sheetrock and growling at her, "What are you looking at you little brat?" Breath catching in her throat, the young Nana tried to curl into an even tighter ball and disappear into the couch at her back. Her efforts were in vain, though, for he could still see her. "I asked you a question you worthless b—"
"John, please stop!" a woman yelled, furious eyes turning to lock onto her thin frame. In a swift movement he was across the short space between them and had her by her shoulders, slamming her frail form back into the wall.
"You do not talk to me like that!" he said lowly, slamming her back a second time. Pulling one fist back, he released it right into the woman's jaw once, twice, three times before he let her go and let her slide to the floor. "If you ever speak to me like that again…" he trailed off, letting her imagination finish it for him before he stalked off to the kitchen. Looking at her mother's abused face, a black eye halfway to healing, a fresh split lip still bleeding, a cheek starting to swell up and turn purple, the five-year-old could vaguely hear the sound of the refrigerator opening and a bottle clanging against the shelves as it was clumsily taken out.
Tears silently fell to the freshly disturbed earth. Loose dirt clung to her hair and hands and clothes and shoes, the young girl looking forlorn at her feeble handiwork. The small pile of rocks and twigs tied in a cross just didn't seem to do justice to the beautiful woman that now rested beneath a couple feet of dark soil.
Carefully, quietly opening her door just enough that her thin frame can slip out, Nana slid into the hall and tip-toed down the dusty hallway. "And there is a tornado alert out for all of Tornado Alley," the man on the TV could be heard saying as he neared the living room. "Some places can also expect to get up to a couple inches of rain and wind gusts of up to 80 MPH."
Sneaking over to the window, hopeful eyes looked out at the clouds and lightning that seemed to maybe be a little bit closer. Closing those golden pools and tilting her head slightly to the sky, she prayed, Please, take me away from this place.
The first few drops were so quiet she almost didn't hear them, just the quiet pip-pip of small water droplets on the roof. She didn't lift her head from where it was resting on her knees until the sound started picking up, going from a soft melody to hail of bullets in a matter of minutes. And closing her eyes did nothing to drown out it out.
Nana couldn't remember exactly what had started it, but she was pretty certain it was something small. Maybe dinner wasn't quite done yet or it was slightly too hot or cold, but it was all that was needed to set him off. The instant he started to raise his voice she took off, scurrying behind the couch like a mouse as her mother tried to calm down her outraged husband. Hurried footsteps ran into the living room, a terrified scream echoing in the hollow house as her hair was snagged by calloused hands. She is yanked from her feet and falls to the ground, terror-filled eyes locking with her daughters for a split second before a strong fist collides with them. Slapping a hand over her mouth to keep any sound from coming out, the young child can only back away in fear for the several minutes the assault goes on. Once he seems satisfied with his work he gets up and heads back towards the kitchen.
Closing her eyes does not shut out the image, the picture of nose and jaw and eye sockets broken and contorted in a way that doesn't even remotely look like a face anymore.
The rain was starting to slant now, the wind picking up and making voices whisper as it flitted through the trees. Every now and then she could hear one creak in protest against the strength of the wind, but it wasn't near strong enough to snap anything. Yet.
She couldn't help it. As the long handled knife slipped into her mother's chest she let out a small scream. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, everything was quiet and still, then he slowly turned to look right into the golden, no-longer-innocent eyes of his daughter. Nothing up rage was reflected in his amber pools, and it was enough to keep her rooted for a second too long. She recovered just about the same time he did and as she ran towards the door he unsheathed the knife from her mother's body and bolted towards her. The wooden barrier flew open, she was taking the first two steps towards freedom, and a firm hand grabbed the back of her dress and threw her back inside. Unable to keep her balance, Nana fell on her back just a foot from her mother. Her father was on top of her in an instant, the bloody knife pressed harshly against her throat. "If you even thing of trying to run again," he started, alcohol thick on his breath, "I will gut you and make you into stew. Do you understand?" Unable to find any words to speak, Nana could only nod and shiver.
Standing in front of the window, she could do nothing but watch as those small, red blocks were built up around her, the irritated man mumbling curses to himself as he built up the brick wall surrounding his house. That would be the last time someone came snooping around his place. He wouldn't let anyone tell him how he could and couldn't treat what was his!
He slammed the last brick into place, the only warning to the little girl that her daddy was done and coming back inside. As he stalked back towards the door she cowered in front of the window, shrinking down as much as her tiny body would allow so when he blew into the house like he always did she would be as far from his line of sight as possible. A loud crack sounded as the door slammed against the wall, a piece of the paneling snapping under the sheer force. He flew over to the woman on the other side of the room, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her back into the opposite wall. Tears streaming down her cheeks, the battered woman could do nothing but slowly slide down the wall.
Strong hands grabbing her by the throat, weak hands tried futilely to allow more air to reach her lungs. She was pulled back to her feet, her husbands stinking breath just an inch from her nose as he bit out, "If you ever call the police again I will kill both you and the little brat." Waving a hand in Nana's direction, he slammed his wife into the wall a second time for good measure before letting her fall to the floor again. "I'm going to go get a drink. I better not hear a sound from either of you for a good long while." And with that he stalked off to the kitchen.
The minutes that passed between him leaving the room and her crawling quietly over to her mother seemed so much longer than they actually were. It was probably just five, maybe ten, minutes, but it seemed more like hours. Reaching the crumpled woman weeping silently into the dirty carpet, she placed a hand on her shoulder for comfort, but was pulled into a hug instead. "I will get you out of here," she whispered so quietly Nana almost couldn't hear it. "I'm not sure how, but someday, somehow, I will take you away from this place."
Nana snapped back to reality. Outside, mixed in with the howling of the wind, was a loud whirr!, like a police siren pulling up to their house but there were no flashing light to signal one's approach.
Golden eyes instantly fell to the sleeping form across the room. The man she was forced to call father, the man she could rather call tormentor, only shifted slightly and snored once as the warning of a twister touching down was issued.
Opening the front door as quietly as she could, fearing that the small sound would accomplish what the howling storm had failed to do, Nana slipped out into the hostile bleakness of the wind and rain. Climbing through the only break in the wall, she ran as fast as her little legs would take her up the small hill to the one safe place for miles, taking a short moment despite the pelting rain and fierce wind to look back one last time at the house she could not call anything but hell and the dark funnel approaching it before disappearing into the ground and latching the cellar doors.
She could no longer hear anything but the wind, and even that was being distorted by her mind in the dark confines of the storm cellar. There was a moment when she could have sworn she heard her mother's voice, as if the wind itself was her mother. All the screams of anger and fear assaulted the young child's mind, and she closed her eyes to try and block it out.
The grey paper with black ink landed on the ground in front of her feet. The matron did not normally take the time to read the paper, but something seemed to catch her eye. "Young Girl Only Survivor in Small Town Hit by Twisters," she read the headline as she pushed the large double door opens. "Seven tornados tore through a small town of less than 100 residents late last night. Only one young girl survived the carnage, but she did not escape unscathed…" her voice trailed off as her eyes continued to scan the paper. Not a moment later she looked up from the paper. Without even needing instruction the steel-haired man and coal-hair boy already knew.
Nana couldn't help but feel that her mother had brought the storm down on them. She swore she could hear her mother's voice, and she had also promised to one day get her out of that house. This was her divine justice on the man that killed her.
How she could hear the glass shattering she did not know. Maybe her mind was making it up, or maybe she was somehow tuned into the sounds coming from the house, but the fact was she distinctly heard windows breaking as wind sheer and debris crashed into them, and knowing just how close the house was to her haven made it very unnerving. Her breath coming shallow and ragged, on the verge of hyperventilating, she closed her eyes and slapped her hands over her ears.
A loud bang on the cellar door made her nearly jump out of her skin, also startling the already nervous bats above her head into a frenzy. She wasn't sure exactly what had hit it, and that just added to the suspense and horror. The irrational part of her mind made the crashes into her father's pounding fist, using all of his power to try and get at her. To be honest, she wasn't sure which was more frightening, the storm or her father. As more objects impacted the storm cellar's door, as the furious beating of wings seemed to increase in volume, the girl of barely nine years couldn't stand it anymore. She screamed.
Her ears felt weird. She knew she hadn't moved her hands, but whatever was under her hands was no longer her ears. They were long, and sounds seemed to have increased several fold in volume. It was too much, she couldn't stand it and she just wanted it to stop. She barely even registered that she had pulled her new wings, wings she hadn't had just moments before, tightly around her body. Not even that extra layer of defense could stop the memories deeply ingrained in her mind.
It hadn't even been two hours. The body hadn't even had time to cool down. She was in a hole about a foot deep, freshly disturbed dirt on her hands and hair and pretty pink dress as she helped her father dig her mother's grave. Tears left trails in the dust on her cheeks and her arms were starting to ache, but she knew she couldn't stop. If she even tried to slow the grave would be for two…
There was a moment of calm, a few seconds of peace and tranquility as the eye glided over her, and then the horrors started up again. But the storm was moving on, it was passing by and would soon be gone. Just like he was now gone.
She waited until she could hear the pitter-patter of rain amongst the crying wind to open the cellar door. A rustle of small wings flooded out of the small room, the colony of bats fleeing into the ruined forest. The nine-year-old blonde girl slowly followed her cousins into the crisp, moist air. Rain soaked into her hair, hitting her Anima-given wings for the first time since she got them just moments before. In the faint light filtering in through the thick clouds she looked at her new appendages before closing her eyes. Just one more sin on the land.
She couldn't believe what she was seeing and shuddered. Like a skeleton unearthed by a flood, the bones of her house still stood, sticking out of the rubble and carnage like some kind of disfigured monument.
Glass crunched under her feet as she slowly descended down the slippery slope.
Part of the wall still jutted out of the ground, the bottom couple layers close enough to the earth to escape the vacuum-like winds. Stepping up over the remains, her feet thudded quietly on what used to be the front door.
Small hands holding onto one of the few supports still standing, albeit that half had been snapped by the tornado. Using the beam to keep herself steady on the unstable pile of wood and brick and miscellaneous objects. She stood at what would have been the doorway to the living room, taking in the utter destruction. Over there should have been the couch. It was gone now…
Tears in her eyes, although for once tears of relief instead of sadness and fear, she ran towards where her mother was waiting. Even with trees displaced and some earth upturned she knew exactly where the gravesite laid. She had to thank her, had to tell her that he was gone.
Stopping in the clearing, she turned her head from right, to left. This couldn't be happening. The rocks and the cross, they were gone.
It had escaped most of the destruction, there were not loose boards or fallen trees anywhere near where she had been laid to rest, but the marker was nowhere in sight. Nana frantically wished she was simply in the wrong place, that her memory had failed her in the confusion, but that was one thing she would never forget. There was no doubt, this was the spot. Her knees giving out underneath her, Nana collapsed to her knees, ears and wings drooping as she tilted her head to the sky, and screamed.
This story can be read alone, but it is also made to tie into a Husky/Cooro story that as of yet is still untitled. I am not sure when I will get around to writing it for those who are interested, but at the same time this story can be read alone. Thank you for taking the time to read my story. :) +Anima really needs more fanfictions in its fandom.