I curse you, plot bunnies. I curse you.

It's not like I don't have a massive story going on right now, that I'm trying to keep up with for my readers' sakes. And no, of course the plot bunnies can't give me an ounce of help with the chapter I'm in the middle of writing.

Nah. They've gotta throw a new plot at me that I totally fall in love with, and just HAVE to write. Evil bunnies.

This was originally a Clint and Darcy one shot that turned into a Bruce and Darcy multi-chapter saga. I've written the majority of it, so besides rewriting and editing a couple things, all that's left to do is publish it.

This is Darcy's story. Rated T for a reason, people. I briefly debated making this M, just because of the mentions of abuse in three forms: physical, emotional, and sexual. This deals with child rape, as well as child abuse. It's not the fluff I love writing, even though there are some lighter moments. This was hard stuff to write, so I can safely assume it also qualifies as hard stuff to read. Literally, I pretty much cried as I wrote this, which is enough to make any sane person question WHY I would write this. But this was just one of those ideas that got inside my head and wouldn't go away. Consider yourself warned. I'm not ridiculously graphic about it, because that's not my style, but please, please, PLEASE proceed with caution in this.

Oh. One other note. If you are in the situations Darcy finds herself in growing up? Get help. I have watched one of my best friend's deal with her own form of relationship abuse, and guys? No one deserves that. Talk to someone you trust, and get yourself out of any abusive situation before it's too late. It is never your fault, and it is never something that you should feel ashamed of.

Anyways. That was your warning. It's rated Teen for themes as well as language, read at your own risk, and so on.

Oh. I own nothing. If you sue me, you're going to get a lot of nice dinnerware, and some towels, and an awesome blender, but if you fill out your own wedding registry you can get that stuff anyways.

Darcy had learned long ago that some kids had families with parents who loved them. She just wasn't one of them.

She could pinpoint the day she realized that her Mom hated her, the way some people hated bullies or broccoli. She was still in the First Grade, and had come home from school one day.

She bounced into the house after walking home from school. She always walked, because Mama was usually too busy to pick her up. Darcy never knew what she was too busy with, but she didn't ask. She liked walking, anyways.

"Mama!" Darcy shrieked, bouncing into the room.

"Shut the fuck up!" yelled Mama. "God damn it, Darcy! I have a headache!"

Darcy shrank back immediately. "Sorry." she whispered.

Mama ignored her and continued to sit, staring at the TV. Her bright red fingernails were clamped around a beer can. Three empty cans sat on the side table next to her, and another two lay on the floor. She lounged back, her tank top baring her midriff.

"Mama?" she asked tentatively. There was no answer.

Darcy was persistent, or at least that's what her teacher said. She didn't really know what it meant, so she'd asked. The teacher had said it meant that she didn't stop trying. So Darcy tried to be persistent.

"Mama?" she said again, a little bit louder this this time. Still no response.

"Mama!" she said, loudly now. She didn't see it coming. Mama's hand, that was. It happened so quickly. One moment Darcy was standing there, trying to get her Mama's attention, and the next she was lying on the floor, feeling pain course through the side of her face. She lay there in shock for a moment, trying to understand what had just happened.

She wondered what she'd done wrong this time.

"I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF AND SHUT UP!" her Mom yelled. Darcy's eyes filled with tears as she scrambled away. Out of the living room, and up to her room. She didn't stop running until she was safely in her room with the door closed. She fell onto her beloved pink bed spread, sobbing. In her hand, she clutched the card she'd made for Mother's Day. It was supposed to be special surprise for her Mom.

She was about to throw it in the garbage, but decided to leave it on her desk instead. The words I Love You stood out in silver glitter on the pink paper. She'd spent all morning trying to get the glittery words just right.

She rubbed the side of her face and bit back another sob. It wasn't the first time her Mama had hit her, and it wouldn't be the last. Tomorrow she would say sorry, and she would tell Darcy that she'd been upset, or sad about something, and that she hadn't meant to hit her. Darcy would forgive her, because that's what families did. And she wouldn't tell anyone, because she couldn't get Mama in trouble. If that happened...people would come to take her away. And Darcy didn't want to leave. She loved her Mom too much.

She cuddled up to her pink teddy bear. Mama had bought it for her birthday a couple months ago, and from the first day she'd touched his soft fur, he'd been her favorite. She thought it might be strange, to call the bear a he even though he was pink, but that was okay. He looked like a boy, to Darcy anyways. Mama had remembered her favorite color, too. That had made Darcy happy. Everything in her room was pink, and he matched perfectly. She liked it that way.

She could hear her Mom banging pots in the kitchen. She didn't come to get Darcy, though.

She didn't move off of the pink comforter.

Darcy cried herself to sleep last night, watching the moonlight bounce off of the glitter on her card.

When Darcy was 10, Justin moved in.

The moment Darcy met Justin, she didn't like him. He was just like her Mom's other boyfriends, except he looked at her differently. She didn't know how to describe it, but she didn't like it. The first time she'd met him, she'd ended up hiding in her room until he left.

But he and her Mom were in love, and when people were in love, they moved in together. At least that was how her Mom explained it to her. So Justin moved in, and Darcy settled for avoiding him as much as she possibly could.

For the first while, her Mom seemed happy. She started making nice dinners, which surprised Darcy. Usually dinner was Darcy making a box of macaroni and cheese, or putting two frozen dinners in the oven. She had been stunned when she walked into the house one day to find a plate of cookies sitting on the table.

"For you and Justin." her Mom had said, smiling at her as she stirred something on the stove. It actually smelled good.

Darcy took two, leaving the rest for Justin. They were a little bit overcooked, but to Darcy, they were the best cookies she'd ever had. Maybe not because of the taste, but because they meant that her Mom had got up and made cookies for her. Okay, cookies for her and for Justin. But that had to count for something, right?

She still didn't like Justin, but if he made her Mom happy, then Darcy could be happy too.

Things seemed perfect for awhile. But despite being so young, Darcy was able to come to a quick conclusion about life in general. Perfect never stuck around for long. It was only a matter of time until things fell apart.

It started to go wrong when she woke up to hear her Mom and Justin arguing. They weren't arguing quietly, either. Darcy sat up and crept over to her door, pressing her ear against the cold wood.

"She's just a little girl!" her Mom was saying, sounding borderline hysterical.

"Think I don't know that?" laughed Justin. Darcy shivered at the tone of his voice. "Look, Angela. Do you want this to work? Because if you do, it's going to happen. You can't expect me to stick around without tapping into that."

"And if she tells someone? Then what?"

"I'll make sure she doesn't."

Darcy crept back over to her bed and threw the comforter over her head. She stayed awake for the rest of the night, her eyes trained on her door. She knew that they were talking about her. She just didn't know what they meant. But it scared her. And Justin scared her.

For the first time in her life, Darcy Lewis was truly, truly afraid.

It happened on a Thursday night in the middle of October. Darcy had come home from school, being careful to be quiet and not disturb her Mom. Her ribs were still throbbing from the last time she'd been too loud.

Darcy was always too loud, it seemed. Or at least, she always doing something she wasn't supposed to do. She didn't know if her Mom could see how she tried to please her, but she did. She tried to behave and to make things work. Because she wanted this family to work. Even if this family working meant that Justin would stick around for awhile. She wanted her Mom to be happy, and if Justin was the person who did that for her, then Darcy wanted it to work.

She crept up to her room, being careful not to make the stairs creak. She went into her room and closed the door quietly behind her.

She clamped her hands her mouth to muffle her scream. Justin was sitting on her bed. Darcy didn't know why, but she immediately felt sick to her stomach.

"What're you doing here?" she asked.

"My house." he slurred. Darcy wrinkled her nose. Even from across the room, she could tell that he smelled like beer. She hated it when he and her Mom smelled like beer. Bad things always happened to Darcy when they smelled like beer.

"My room." she countered.

She saw this one coming, but she couldn't do anything to stop it. She knew it was coming, but it didn't change how much it hurt. Justin's fist slammed into the side of her head, and Darcy crumbled. For a moment, her vision swam and she thought she was going to pass out. She writhed on the floor, trying to regain control of her senses.

"Don't you dare get snarky with me!" Justin snapped. He grabbed her arm and yanked her up, hauling her over to the bed. He pushed her down onto the pink comforter.

"Hey!" Darcy shrieked.

"Shut up." he snapped. He began to fumble with her favorite pink sweater, the one that she always wore over her purple shirt.

"MOM!" Darcy screamed, trying to roll off the bed and writhing in panic.

"I SAID SHUT UP!" Justin yelled, smacking her across the face again.

Darcy wasn't any stranger to being hit. But Justin rarely hit her, and it shocked her to discover that he hit way harder than her Mom.

"STOP!" Darcy screamed. She braced herself for another slap, but felt Justin continue to touch her instead. She tried to squirm away, but he slapped her again. And again. And again.

Darcy lay still, listening to the sound of her own heavy breathing and trying to ignore the smell of alcohol oozing off of Justin.

"Now fucking well hold still and shut up, or I swear I will give you a reason to cry. And if you tell anyone what happened? I will fucking well murder you. Do you understand me?"

She stayed still for the rest of the night, only crying out when Justin invaded her and she felt the pain rip through her small body.

When Darcy woke up the next morning, Justin was gone. She stood up, groaning at the pain in her gut, and walked over to the mirror hanging on the wall by her dresser. Her face was purple with bruises, and one eye was swollen shut. Her nose had bled a little bit, too. She barely recognized herself.

It was then that she glanced back at her pink comforter, and at Mr. Manly, her pink teddy bear. The comforter was stained with blood, and Mr. Manly suddenly looked out of place in the room.

The pink comforter was thrown in that week's trash. Mr. Manly found a new home in a box under her bed.

Justin broke up with her Mom two weeks later.

Darcy never wore pink again.