High & Low Oya High (FanFiction)

Chapter 17: I Don't Want to Go

(Fitting Music:  Would Anyone Care - Citizen Soldier)

"Dad!" I sobbed, my voice raw and pitted with cracks, emotions bubbling over the surface and tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Stop it!" I pleaded to the man who called himself my father as he stood over the only man who ever treated me like a daughter--his daughter, "Please..."

     It did not do anything.  It did not stop him.  If anything Yamamoto enjoyed the moment all the more as he delivered another crushing blow to my dad's face, knocking him back and sending him sprawling onto his back, groaning in pain.

"I-It's okay, Y/N . . . it's okay," came his deathly quiet whisper, but his voice thick with emotions, "I'm-" he continued but was cut off by a coughing fit, "...okay."

     I could not miss the dark streak of red running from the corner of his mouth back to the tip of his ear, as he lay there just struggling to breathe.  No, you are not okay . . . none of this is okay, I thought sadness burning my heart as I turned my bloodshot gaze over to Yamamoto, my hate evident and unbridled.

     Yamamoto was running his hands through his hair, removing the dark strands that clung to the sweat covering his face in a sheen.  He was wearing gloves, gloves splattered in blood, my father's blood, and more of the thick substance peppered the white shirt he was wearing.  Yamamoto sniffed, removing a glove from one of his hands and reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief.  All the while leering down at the nearly limp figure of my dad.  The man's face failed to betray any emotion, only his eyes held their usual dark twinkle.

     He wordlessly cleaned himself up before snapping the glove back on and delving into a trouser pocket and whipping out something with a far more sinister intent--a knife.

"No," I mumbled, dispair breaking my heart, "No, no, oh please, no."

     My dad struggled to move away from Yamoto as the man stepped over him, cradling him between his legs as he kneeled down.  However, the movement futile and did not help him.  It did not stop the wicked gleam of the blade as it crept closer to his face.

"Dad!"

     Yamamoto's back blocked out my father from view, but that did nothing to quell the blood-curling screams that pierced the air.  So full of pain, so full of horror.  I just wanted to clamp my hands over my ears, I wanted to block them out, I wanted-....  The firm hand strapping my arms behind me made sure I could not.

"Dad..."

     I remembered the foster home I had been in before.  I remembered the sunny day when a bright, smiling couple came through that front door, the light streaming in behind them.  They had looked like angels.  They were.  They were my angels.  I remembered them whisking me away to their home, it was only small, but I had not cared.  The young couple had scavenged what spare money they possessed and spoilt me rotten, giving me the best opportunity, sending me to the best schools.  Moving around the city constantly as I got expelled from each one in turn.  I had never guessed that it was for any other reason than that.  Even now, my dad sent me to Oya High to protect me . . . to protect me from Yamamoto . . . to hide me, but I...

     I recalled how I had left my home, in an unspeakable huff.  I remembered going to my parents house the other day.  I remember how I had left them once again, shouting and screaming.

     It seemed like a daze when Yamamoto stood and moved away.  Blood ran the length of his knife, dropping off the tip and hitting the ground with a faint plop.  The only other noise was my father's raspy breathing.  Terror squeased my heart as I forced my eyes to look down--down at my dad.  My breaths came in panicked pants and it was like I could not get air into my lungs.  Tears pooled in my eyes, tumbling down my face.  Anger seared me like lava, yet anguish tore my heart asunder.  My gaze shot over to Yamamoto, boring into him.