Gargoyles: The Last Night
A.N: Hi guys…I'm back. I've gotten on medication and I'm better. Hopefully it stays that way. This first scene was originally later in the fic, but I decided to move it sooner. I think it sets a good mood for this story. And because I dedicate this to one of my best friends whose been with me through thick and thin, through EVERYTHING and she encouraged me to try this again, to write about how hurt in my life had made me who I am.
I am not a victim of physical abuse, but words in my household cut deeper than any knife, my father was a Navy Officer and when my parent divorced when I was 2, he got custody. I lived with him until my mom took custody of me at 10, when we discovered he was bipolar and participating in illegal activities.
Activities that brought drug dealers, ex convicts, junkies and prostitutes into my home. Such people caught police attention and so the police raided our apartment one day while I was at home. During the raid, my only companion and dog: Zoey was shot, but lucky not killed. But now she walks with a limp, and can't see through her left eye. I came home to a destroyed apartment, and was left alone for 3 days until one of the neighbors called my mother and we found out what happened.
My father was charged with the harboring of criminals, endangerment of a child, possession of illegal drugs, statutory rape, possession of child pornography, assault of an officer and resisting arrest. I lived through all of this at 10 years old.
By that time, the damage was done and I couldn't be the same girl. I didn't know what a joke was, I don't laugh often, and it took me 2 years to figure out that cussing isn't appropriate.
My mother was too fixated on my younger half-sister, who was perfect in every way, shape and form to care for me like I needed to be. She instead criticized me on everything I did, because I wasn't my sister, the cheerful, social, funny and kind individual that everyone loved, while I sat in the corner, afraid if I trusted anyone…I'd get hurt again. My mother even abused my physically every now and again out of frustration, but never enough to warrant police attention. So I grew up on my own. I'm sorry it took me to let this go...But I finally understand that the more I let this eat at me, the more I let him own me, the more I let this monster win and I'm done with that.
I don't own the Gargoyles, just Patience. As always don't forget to: Love it, Share it, Follow it, Fave it and Review it!
Sarah 'Patience' Ali-Robbins was a standard teenage girl living in New York. With dark brown hair, with bangs that covered her even darker eyes and a body that was done developing at her eighteen years of age. She wasn't particularly beautiful, with small and humble breasts, a thin waist and hips that were barely there. In fact she had only moved to New York at the end of summer and it was now late October. But moving around wasn't anything new to her, her father a Marine and moving wherever the U.S Government needed him. Her mother, unfortunately wasn't in the picture. Her father met her in Afghanistan during his first deployment. A few months after Patience was born on a tiny base in the middle of nowhere, her mother vanished and no one had heard from her since.
Patience was the average student, being held back only once in 1st grade because of her dyslexia and getting only B's throughout her past school years. Both because of lack of complete effort and her dyslexia. She currently watched the TV on the couch, home alone with the exception of her dog: Houla. But this was normal in their brownstone in Tribeca. Her father was never home and when he was…..things were never pretty.
"You're a worthless bitch!"
"What's wrong with you?!"
"You can't do anything right!"
"I wish you had never been born!"
He had a bad habit of getting drunk. Of breaking beer bottles against the apartment walls, screaming strings of curses at her, blaming Patience for everything that was wrong with his life. When she was small, she use to wish of some dream family, like the ones in sitcoms on TV, that one would come and sweep her off into the sunset where she would have her happily ever after.
But life wasn't a daydream, and she was stuck with her abusive dad, and missing, most likely dead, mother. Most the time though, she was tough. Used her 3 part time jobs to help pay rent and groceries, ignored most of the verbal abuse thrown at her, and hid the bruises she earned by the end of the day so the people in her high school classes wouldn't ask any questions.
But every now and again, when dad made a comment on how she was just like her mother, or when happy families walk down the street, it grew hard to ignore her crushed spirit. So, she let a blade scrap across her skin, every once in a while, to let out some of the pain and felt herself bleed.
It wasn't healthy, Patience knew that. But….it felt so good, to feel something she had control over. Instead of the jumbled up emotions, she couldn't help due to her current…..situation. Tonight being one of those times.
She had locked her pit-bull/Catahoula leopard dog in her room. The dog was clawing and whining from behind the battered door, as if knowing what her owner was going to do.
In Patience hands was a blade from the kitchen, caressing her flesh, letting hot crimson droplets fall like water on the leaky faucet in the bathroom. Salty tears fell from her eyes almost as hard as rain in a thunderstorm. It was so hard to forget, so hard to not let the venomous words of her so called 'father' get to her, so hard to not wonder about her long lost mother and why she left Patience alone with a monster. She cried and held back wails of agony, as not to alert the neighbors.
She shed both tears and blood and cried and cried. Half hoping that she would die so she wouldn't be feeling the pain in the pit of her heart.
Brooklyn woke to the normal roar of his clan and the cracking of stone. The city, his city, was as usual awake and bustling with life. Life for him and the Manhattan Clan, though complicated and full of unexpected twists and turns, was good.
The United Nations had acknowledged the existence of gargoyles and wherever they resided. They were allowed to intervene in illegal human affairs and help the police. They protected their home, as did all the clans of the world in their own respected areas, and life for once was peaceful, or as peaceful as it could get.
Reporters still pounded at the doors, demanding answers to often idiotic or embarrassing questions. Some of the worst were: How did gargoyle reproduction work? Would Goliath's and Elisa's relationship be an end to all traditional marriages? Were gargoyles an alien species?
Demona or the occasional enemy still popped up every now and again but given everything they'd been through and all the challenges that were thrown their way to get where they were at, everything was well.
He hopped off his pedestal with a soft thud, the others following close behind. Broadway, Angela and himself had patrol for the night while Lex spent time with Alex, Hudson was watching a hockey game with Bronx and Goliath was on a date with Elisa. Leaving him with the lovebirds, Brooklyn inwardly sighed as he stretched his wings ready to take off with his rookery brother and Angela close behind.
The red gargoyle did his best to drown out the cooing of the pair behind him and ignore the loving stares. The patrol was relatively uneventful with only a handful of muggings and a failed bank robbery. They were ready to head home when a flyer blew into Broadway's face, causing him to crash onto another building, blinded by the paper.
The red and lavender gargoyle glided after him, landing on the apartment building and dusting of the teal creature.
"Nice landing Ace," Brooklyn teased but his brother did not respond to the quip.
"Woah," Broadway stating as he looked at the cause of his wreck. "Did you know Xanatos is having a party next Friday?"
"What?" Angela asked grabbing the flyer,
"Yeah, a fund raiser for some school. Looks like fun." Broadway continued, "We should go."
"Guys, we kinda live there. I think we're going anyway." Brooklyn said while rolling his eyes.
Broadway shoved the second-in-command playfully, "So, we could've gone out that night."
"I know I will." Brooklyn muttered under his breath. He didn't need to see all the other happy couples to remind him of his loneliness even more. "Come on we better head back it's almost dawn."
Hours after, Patience was in her room, disinfecting her scars and bandaging them so they'd heal before she had to take them off for school, which was tomorrow. The reddish furred and brown spotted dog was almost glaring at her from the other side of the room, with her head between her paws. She glanced at Houla and sighed, when a knock upon her window made her jumped. She glanced over, only to roll her dark eyes.
It was a boy, and not just any boy, one of her only friends: Victor Jackson.
A boy with shaggy dyed black hair, light brown eyes and hipster glasses and a guitar case strapped to his back. He played guitar and sang, in fact he played at one of the coffee shops Patience worked at. He'd be every girl's dream if it weren't for the small fact that he was gay.
He was one of the only friends Patience made since she moved to New York from Wyoming months ago. His band mates weren't interested in girls of her figure, but with Victor being gay, he didn't care. He chattered endlessly whenever he wasn't playing and she was at work. He loved that Patience, even though she had no sense of humor, wasn't fake like most girls he knew. And that she was a great listener.
Patience liked that even in her dire situation, Victor could make her laugh. And Houla loved him, so he couldn't be bad if her dog liked him.
"Hey Patience." He smirked and winked as he crawled into the room. The girl shook her head as the musician patted the canine on the head. Houla's tail was wagging excitedly at the new visitor and licked his hand affectionately.
"Hi Vic." She said chalantly as she rolled down her sleeves to hide her scars.
"You get your schedule changed yet?" He asked and Patience nodded, walking over to her cluttered desk and searched for the paper. She found it on top, in the left hand corner. She picked it up and handed it to Victor. He smiled as he read over the slip.
"We have film studies, calculus II, chemistry II and biology together. Sweet." He said before handing it back to her.
Patience shrugged and placed the schedule back on her desk.
"So, this Friday after school, I'm playing for this Halloween concert at the Xanatos building ya know? A huge gig, you know a costume party, and I was hoping you'd tag along as my date?"
"The guys don't know I'm gay yet! Please come on I'm beggin' ya!" He pouted and got down on both knees and clasped his hands together.
"If I show up it'll be a dead give away you're gay. I'm not groupie material." Patience stated and Victor grinned sheepishly,
"Well….we could go shopping before…doll you up…"
"You know I can't afford-"
"I'll pay for it…just please!" Victor pleaded and Patience frowned. She debated the topic in her head, weighing the pros and cons.
Pro: She'd meet new people.
Con: People might see her scars.
Pro: She might make friends.
Con: She did like parties.
Pro: She'd be out of the house.
Con: …she didn't have anything else bad about this.
"Fine." She sighed exasperatedly and Victor hugged her.
"I owe you one, Patience!" Victor smiled and Patience shook at her head. She opened her mouth to make a sarcastic remark, but when Houla began to growl and Patience's stomach dropped for she knew her father must've been heading home.
"We'll discuss payment later. My dad might be home any second, and he won't like some boy in my room." Patience said shoving him towards the window. She didn't want Victor see how abusive her dad was, to scare off yet another friend.
"Okay, okay, geez calm down!" He exclaimed before heading out the window and down the rusty fire escape of the brownstone. She watched him go with envy, feeling like a prisoner in her own home when the door slammed open. She braced herself against her own bedroom door and screwed her eyes shut, holding her breath.
Things fell from tables and crash to the floor. Things she knew she'd have to pick up later. There were muffled giggles from the hall and moans of pleasure. Patience sighed, dad had brought home another hooker. Another slam of the door led Patience to believe that they were back in his room. Springs groaned and moans were heard though the thin walls. Patience knew what was going on. Tears fell from her eyes and crawled into her bed.
The sheets were dingy and blood stained, bought from a second-hand store that cost no more than a candy bar. The smell of cigarettes and booze drifted into her own room due to her father's horrible habit. She sighed sadly and turned towards the wall away from the door and tried to drown out the world and her problems running though her brain and try to actually sleep.