Hey guysss! I'm back after taking an excessive vacation (though not really since it was to catch up on summer assignments)! ANYWAYS WITHOUT FURTHER ADO….READ ON!
000
The night was frigid and icy rain pounded the town resting below. Allen's white hair fluttered in the torrent of winds—he was sitting out on the veranda, sheltered from the rain yet still getting a nice view of the somber looking houses and wailing trees.
He ran hand through his hair and watched his breath materialize on the misty wind. Tomorrow would be the day when he'd finally showed the man that ruined his life what hell was like.
000
Allen was thrown to the floor with a full blown force. He couldn't see anything through the blood that oozed down his forehead and into his eyes.
"STOP. I SAID S-STOP." He screamed, backing up into a wall.
His back was bruised and the skin was torn to shreds where he'd been whipped. His shirt was plastered with red and brown. Red from the new blood and brown from the old.
"Don't tell me you're sick of this already" sneered a voice above him.
He was forced to his feet, slammed against the wall, and had his face slapped to the side. He coughed violently; globs and splatters of blood were forced out of his lips. He was covered in it—his own blood and all he wanted to do was die then and there.
Oh what a tempting offer that was at the moment.
He was smacked once more with something metallic, a gun. Allen had no energy to scream again.
Or so he thought.
A loud "BANG" issued and resounded throughout the shack, and only moments later could Allen feel a searing pain shoot up his leg—his foot had been shot.
Allen's thin and malnourished body threatened to fall into a puddle on the floor when he was forced to stand once more. He groaned in anguish and pure agony. Bruises blossomed on his arms and legs where he was punched, kicked, and pummeled into the bloodstained floorboards. He was thrown left and right like a ragdoll, weighing just as much.
He was straddled by him.
He felt sick. And he couldn't stop shaking like some girl.
"Why'd you stop screaming? It was such a wonderful sound." The voice dripped with sweet sarcasm as Allen lay perfectly still—almost lifeless.
What a terrible word: almost. Not quite dead yet not quite alive.
Barely hanging on by a thread made of steel and cement. Allen's hand was seized and pinned to the side of his head.
Another shot shook the room and this time Allen shrieked in horror when his head turned to the side to vaguely see his hand half pulverized—blood dripping and filling his fingernails. His eyes doubled in size and he grew increasingly delirious. He thrashed like a wild animal; screaming, snarling, growling, and flailing helplessly.
His white hair was dyed a masochistic scarlet from the pool of blood forming by his head.
"STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT!" Allen raged before a warning gunshot that rang through the air silenced him into momentary fear and submission.
"You're a weak little fucker, you know that? Probably would go sell yourself on the streets like a common whore. You're a worthless piece of shit—can't even take a punch."
Allen bit his bloodied lip, re-opening the wound that had scabbed from a day ago. He was blindly seeing the world through red glasses. His eyes were starting to burn from being drowned in the all too familiar fluid.
But Allen's greatest pain was the wound that was torn open again on his back and the piece of marred flesh he used to call a hand that was shot. He could barely see the veins that partially stuck out from underneath the skin and for was split second, was glad he couldn't see all that clearly.
He felt like vomiting.
"And you're a fucking sadist." He hissed.
Blood was erupting from his throat, running down his chin, and trickling down his neck at an agonizing pace.
"Sadist, am I?" A bloodcurdling laugh filled the air as Allen felt the air around his face grow revoltingly warm with his torturer's breath.
"I'll show you sadistic."
Allen's breath hitched as darkness quickly came to his rescue.
000
Allen found himself gritting his teeth and clenching his fists just thinking back on those times before he had to run for his life every damn minute of his life. How he escaped that hellhole—he didn't even know. He just knew that he did and now he was in some sort of weird gang organization and stealing things.
But he was safe now…he felt content knowing that tomorrow would be the day.
"Only idiots sit out on cold days like this." scoffed a voice just as cold as the howling wind.
Allen's eyes unintentionally glared up at the raven-haired boy. He was just so angry from remembering such terrible, terrible times.
"I suppose you're an idiot then." Allen spat as Kanda sat down a few feet away from him.
He couldn't help it—all the anger was just spilling out of him like the blood he shed while he stayed with that…that monster.
"Tch."
"I-I'm sorry." Allen added, cursing himself for stuttering like an idiot.
There was no answer, so Allen's head swiveled over to look over at the older boy. His face was perfectly chiseled and looked like stone.
Such a beautiful statue…
His inky black tresses whipped and flickered in the wind, his bitter blue eyes like darkened sapphire as he stared out into the trees. His skin was surprisingly pale in contrast to his other features. He was just so intriguing…
"Haven't your folks taught you that it's rude to stare?" Kanda scoffed—not even sparing the boy a glance.
"I don't have parents." Allen's voice was icy as steel when the subject of parents and guardians came up.
"Everyone has parents." His voice was elegant with a hint of sarcasm.
"Well I disown them. I've never met them. They certainly didn't keep me around for long. They handed me over to…" Allen paused.
"I don't have parents." He repeated sternly.
Kanda laughed bitterly. The noise startled Allen as his dulled silver eyes nervously flicked in the leader's direction.
"Join the club."
Allen didn't know what to say. What was that supposed to mean? Did Kanda not have parents either?
"None of us that live here have parents."
Allen's eyes were half lidded as they gazed lazily at the few city lights below.
"I…I see."
"We don't really talk about it much, unless we joke." Kanda explained flatly.
"You joke?" Allen sneered, sarcasm feeling a little strange on the tip of his tongue.
"You can take a joke?" the boy quickly retorted, his tongue as swift and sharp as his sword.
Allen's lips pursed at being countered but he was once more lost in the flood from the sky.
Abruptly, an explosion was heard thundering very close by.
Too close.
Kanda was deftly on his feet, his stunning cobalt eyes scanning the area. Allen too got to his feet, a little clumsily compared to Kanda's adroitness.
"Where—?"
"Ssshh. Shut up for a second." Kanda snapped as he took a few steps, venturing out into the pouring rain.
Allen glared and pouted childishly when the leader wasn't looking. Nothing was happening until the smallest rustle was heard in the trees nearby.
It was barely audible, yet Kanda caught it like a cat. He turned toward the tree it came from, locating it within seconds. He stared calmly at the tree; his sword wasn't even drawn yet.
He just stood there in the rain as it pelted down on him. Apparently…he was good at being patient when he felt like it.
A maniacal laughter rose from the tree as an akuma that was missing an eye and a nose jumped down from it.
"Hello there Exorcists." It mocked in its raspy voice, twisting in and out of tune.
"Tch."
"You aren't much of a talker, are you?"Its only eye lowered temptingly as its gray lips twisted into a smile.
Kanda stood there, still not doing anything. His own lips were coiling into a smirk as the akuma grew serious and a tad paranoid.
"Aren't going to attack me?"
A gun shot rang through the air as both the akuma and Kanda's heads whipped around to spot a boy with white hair holding a smoking gun.
"You idiot." Kanda muttered.
"Nice aim exorcist." The akuma taunted, coolly observing the bullet it pulled out of its arm.
"BUT NOT NICE ENOUGH~!" It screamed as it lunged for Allen.
000
PLEASE REVIEW 33 Sorry for the cliffy. Hehe..:)