Log in

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Bit My Heart In Two, part one

For notes, warnings and such, please go here.

Once upon a time, in a land far far away... no, nobody's a princess here unless they're cosplaying or in a fantasy. It was a dark and stormy night... nah, that's a cliché nobody uses anymore. This is the story of... well, that's kinda oversimplifying it...

Fuck it, there was two people okay? Well, characters, but don't tell them that. They think they're real and you might get a toy gun in your face. Or a proper gun, you never can tell until it happens. You might get chloroformed as well, but that's not really so much of a punishment if I know you guys like I think I do.

Oh I ramble too much. Let's just get on with it. Two characters on the internet. One was created to be the girly version of the other because he was too "manly" to do female orientated movies, it didn't turn out quite like that because she was a ladette who loved Transformers and he did more feminine things than just scream in a high-pitched voice, but that wouldn't nearly be as interesting so we can be grateful for it.

And begin!


She tried to be as still as possible, curling up under her pink covers as the sound of yelling from downstairs got ever louder. And it didn't particularly start quiet. How could they go keep going without shorting out their voices? Did they have lemon tea in between sessions?

She didn't even know what they were arguing about this time, she honestly didn't really care that much if it was just like money or something, and she didn't think it was about her.

Lindsay cast her mind back over the day just in case; she did her own boring tomato and cheese sandwiches the night before with the right kind of knife and made positive that she had swept up all the mess. She had put on her best "I'm such an innocent eight year old sweetie" face yesterday when Becky's mommy picked her up from school, so the lady had agreed to give the girls a lift together next morning. She even scrawled a note to mommy and daddy letting them know she could totally take care of herself.

And that's it. If they were disappointed by her growing up, that made so little sense. They hadn't really shown they cared to begin with, why would they be upset that she was surely going to be out of their hair soon?

The shouting had stopped with a door slam, like it usually did, but mommy was crying loudly now. And she'd always said that anyone who cried, especially if they were, like over the age of ten, wasn't to be taken seriously because they were clearly weak. When Lindsay had asked how that worked, she'd dismissed the question with “you'll find out when you grow older”. She couldn't say she was looking forward to that.

She still fell asleep easily and dreamed of rainbow unicorns nuzzling her hand.


In his usual cupboard under the sink, in the dark and safely tucked away, he held onto his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle doll for dear life. He wasn't stupid enough (...most of the time, despite what Guy told him) to think it would come to motion and defeat his parent's screaming at each other with nunchucks, catchphrases and half eaten pizza still in its hand, but just clinging to it gave him a small ounce of protection that he was grateful for.

He didn't know where Guy was. That scared him, on top of everything else. While his brother never admitted to any vulnerability, always laughing at him when he was crying under the sheets or excitedly hoping that Daddy would push Mommy down the stairs so her brain would ooze out of her bleached blonde perm, he should at least have a hiding place. All seven year old boys should.

He also didn't know what they were arguing about this time. It sounded important as they were both screeching (would that break the windows, he wondered), so maybe it was about him. Or Guy. Or sex. Or all the porn Daddy had of ladies hitting each other with sticks and black rods, or the pills kept in Mommy's special box. Those were the only reasons he could think of.

But whatever it was, it'd been going on for a while, ever since Daddy had gone back from work which was, like, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four... fifty-five minutes ago! He'd managed to get that Mommy didn't think Daddy was actually working, but he'd run and hid when Daddy got all red.

Half an hour later - he was good with numbers today, Miss Bird the maths teacher would hopefully be proud of him when he told her all about it tomorrow – things seemed to have quieted down. He couldn't hear anything anyway, even though he strained his ears really hard.

Summoning up the courage, he creaked the door open and... hit Mommy's leg. As Daddy would say, “fuck”.

She looked really mad at him. “Douglas, what on earth are you doing there?”

Could he explain without stuttering? He could at least try. “I- I just h- heard you yelling and-”

Her collapsing in the kitchen chair, not mad and just exhausted, made him want to cry. “Oh, so it's all my fault? I look after you, I feed you, I defend you from your father, I buy you clothes, I indulge in your tastes, I buy you gifts, I protect you from nasty boys at school...”

He couldn't think of anything else to do but crawl out and hug her leg. “I'll love you forever, Mommy. I'm sorry.”

That made her smile. “I forgive you, darling. I'll love you forever too.”

Doug knew who he wanted to be when he grew up. GI Joe, the all-American hero. Fighting off the bad guys with muscles and guns, and having sexy-titted girls swarm all over him, desperate for some touch but only getting it if he thought they were pretty enough.

He'd even have his own planes and butlers like Batman. But no rules, though. He'll jump on the bed whenever he wasn't tired, stuff himself with candy for dinner, he'd make swear words in the air with the steam from the pipe plane things and nobody would yell at him. They'd shower him with more gifts and more money because they loved him and they wanted to show he was special to them.



He'd be tough. And brave. And so much better than a pathetic little kid.

In a land far far away, there lived a princess named Lindsay. Although she was still young, she was already the fairest in the land with her freckles, bright green eyes and chocolate brown hair. But that wasn't all, goodness no, she was also kind, fiercely intelligent and knew how to train dragons. Every prince in the kingdom wanted her hand in marriage.

Or they would have if they knew of her existence. The evil Queen had grown jealous of the princess's beauty, her own looks were fading as she was so old (nearly forty!), so she'd kept Lindsay locked away in a tower and pretended she had never existed.

Lindsay, ever pure, didn't begrudge her this. Although she was often sad and lonely, she knew what a burden the act of jealousy was. She could only hope that the evil Queen's heart would melt out of family love and let her daughter see the beauty that the world had to offer.

But the years went by. The princess got more and more beautiful, and intelligent, and loving, and her power with animals grew, but her faith was starting to die. Perhaps she really would be here forever.

However, unbeknownst to her and the evil Queen (who had her guards surrounding the tower to make sure there was no escape), there was a prince disguised as a laundry boy. He and the princess had been friends when they were children and he'd always had a love for her, especially as he saw her grow into his perfect type of woman. He'd snuck around silently and eavesdropped on all the right conversations when she'd "disappeared". With his shaggy blonde hair and sun-kissed face, he was perfectly able to blend in with the workers. He just had to wait for the right time to free his future bride.

And one day he did. They fell instantly in love all over again, the Queen was smitten by lightning striking her and Princess-now-soon-to-be-Queen Lindsay looked radiant in her feathered wedding gown.

"Lindsay, go to bed."


“Lindsay, it's your mother."

Nuh-uh, the evil queen was dead, she was in the middle of marrying her gallant prince.

"Lindsay! It's way past your bedtime!"

Princesses didn't even have a bedtime.

"Are you listening to me?"

They danced under the stars and crap.

"Lindsay! If you don't do as I say, you won't be able to sit down for a month!" The illusion broken, she turned off Snow White with a sigh. One day.


Nobody had believed him when he told them he was sick. Of course he knew that he was a shitty liar, but he'd really tried this time; poking his skin with a red felt tip pen to give himself a rash, genuinely scalding his hand when he slipped up during leaning over the piping hot kettle to raise his temperature, plucked out a few leg hairs with Mom's tweezer to make himself tear up (because if he'd asked Guy then he'd be at the hospital instead of home like he wanted and then Dad would be angry at him because social services would be called again and lying that much made tensions high), but none of it worked. Mom was in a rush and didn't even notice what he was trying to do, giving him and Guy hastily made sandwiches and dragging them out of the house into the car.

The building was in sight and he felt the familiar drop in his stomach. Guy being busy with having a screaming match with Mom about something useless like always, he clenched onto the handlebar so stiffly that he could see his knuckles turning white. He just wanted to be steady and safe and he couldn't even get that. How was that fair?

In what felt like speed of light time, their mother's car was driving away and they'd been left in the parking lot. Teachers and students were swarming around, chatting and laughing in their little groups, and he realized he should have tried harder to be sick: perhaps eat like half of Mom's tablets, the ones with long words and she didn't think he and Guy knew they existed.

Guy patting him hard on the back - perhaps his version of being affectionate that didn't include pulling the covers over their heads and putting his tongue in his mouth – took him out of his plan for next time. “Hey, loser, don't die okay?”

He smiled despite himself and nodded. “Don't kill anyone.”

His twin made an innocent face that nobody who had known him for five seconds could believe and ran off to a group of older boys hanging on the fence surrounding the playground. Then he really was alone.

As he was walking to his first lesson, keeping his head down not to attract attention, he heard the call that always brought him out in a cold sweat. “Hey! Doug Funny!”

Walking faster, he tried his best to ignore it. His grades were falling steadily, he couldn't get in any more trouble, not when Dad was in a belting mood...

“Hey!” The voice took on a far more irritated tone. “Don't walk away from me you little turd!”

What else could he do than break out into a run? Art, as was always the way, on the top floor of the south building, and only disabled people were allowed to use the elevators, so he had to dodge and weave through the crowd on the stairs.

But he wasn't exactly the athletic sort, much preferring hanging around the library reading comic books than take part in gym, and after three floors his thighs were starting to burn. It was pitiful to give up, but he just couldn't manage it any more. He collapsed against the wall, sweating and gasping for air, waiting for the inevitable beatdown. And he couldn't muster up the vain wish that it wasn't going to happen, he'd lost that hope a while ago.

He wondered if Guy was having as good of a day.


If there was one holiday she hated above all else, it was Christmas. Yes, she got to feel all grown up (although she was thirteen, she was already mature), drink mulled wine and feel all warm for once, she could even get a Limp Bizkit CD without having to cry too much, but he always came over. Her uncle.

He was gross, that was the only word she could describe him with. She couldn't even storm off to her bedroom when he was around, his eyes were just focused on her that knots twisted in her stomach and she just wanted to be as small and quiet as possible.

But at least her parents were around during the day to distract him, it was the nights that made her break out into a cold sweat. And tonight was no exception, as the hallway floor creaked and a faint light spilled onto her bed when the door was cracked open.

“Lindsay, petal, are you asleep?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

She should have clenched her eyes shut, maybe added a few snores, but she couldn't. It was like she was frozen.

Her bed sagged under his weight and her breath caught painfully. "I- I'm still awake."

She could see him smile warmly in the dark. "That's good. How are you, sweetie?"

Couldn't he just get on with it? And that being the first thought she had made her want to cry, but she'd heard that the people who... did what he did were really mean and violent and gross. They weren't supposed to try and be nice and comforting. That just complicated things and she would much rather it be simple. But she still kept with his game. "I'm okay. ...tired."

His hand now stroking her hair, she bit down the urge to chomp her teeth into his arm. "Well you get up so late anyway, back in my generation I had get up early to help with all the chores."

"Well you're old and sick", is what she didn't say. Not for the first time, she wished she had friends so she could use them as an excuse to get out of being with her mess of a family. Where did Becky go? They were BFFs, even proved it with bracelets, how did they drift apart?

He was so close she could feel his hot, suffocating breath on her face. It was kinda sickening. His hand had stopped moving, and was now just resting easily on her head. “But you're a very pretty young lady, so I suppose we can make an exception in your case, hmm?”

What could she say to that? He was much stronger and he'd already made up his mind what he was going to do. Disgustingly, shamefully, her heart was leaping a bit at being thought pretty. She hadn't been told that since what must have been five years ago when Daddy still liked her and cuddled her on his knee. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them rapidly away before he noticed. Maybe this was all she could hope for.

His lips suddenly pressed against hers, resulting in a muffled squeak and squirming. He growled against her and his palms were rough on her shoulders, his gentle tone taking a turn for the nasty. “Open your mouth baby.”

She couldn't imagine what might happen next if she screamed out a no, so she did as she was told and reluctantly parted her lips. His face went back to being kind and his tongue slid in. It was wet and slimy and didn't feel good and if this was what kissing was like she was going to renounce boys and become a nun. Who would miss her anyway?

On the other hand, there was something... strange going on down below. He'd undone the string on her pyjama bottoms and his fingers were touching her in this weirdly nice way. It was still gross and painful and she felt like screaming, but there was an area just below her tummy that was gathering heat. She didn't know what it was, but it felt really good.

He was whispering stuff like “You love that, hmm? You're going to grow up to be a good slut, aren't you?” which kinda tainted the good feeling. She just felt dirty now. And tired. And sore.

But she wanted to laugh when he jerked into her and made a funny strangled chicken sound when something seemed to explode in between them. The bed creaked some more as he panted like a dog.

He then kissed her on the head, like she was a little girl and was getting tucked in after a bedtime story. "Goodnight sweetie, see you tomorrow."

It was only when he left that she noticed that the bed had been soaked.


He was really trying to ignore that voice in his head, the one that claimed to own all the logic, the one that told him this was a very bad idea, to go home to Guy or at least see if he could get a lift to school. How could you think going to prom with a guy who followed you home after you broke up with him for the third time would turn out okay, it said, how could you even go to prom looking gay as you know it's just gonna get you beaten and lying in a ditch. How did you let him convince you that he had to get a few drinks in before you arrived. This is ridiculous, this is insane, you'll hate yourself in the morning and you'll deserve all you get.

But to be honest, it was getting quite easy to ignore it. The bartender and owner was a friend of Billy's dad, and evidently not all dad friends were horrible and bad-tempered, cos even though they were under age, they were allowed free drinks. How fucking cool was that?

Sure, he flinched whenever Billy placed a hand on his waist, but that wasn't really anything to worry about, right? He was the one that wanted to do this, kept on going back to him, even gave him a blowjob twice in one night when they were in the car because he wanted to go to prom with someone. And Billy didn't seem to notice or care anyway.

Although as much as he was enjoying being allowed to drink without having to throw the bottles in the neighbour's garbage before Mom and Dad found out, the worry that they'd spend all night here and miss prom was starting to make his chest hurt. And speaking of hurting, his head was bitching too. He knew he was a lightweight, but didn't science class teach him nausea came from the stomach?

See? He was getting stupider, they needed to leave before he forgot his name.

When his, um, boyfriend (that sounded so weird!) came back to the table after another round of pool with some older guys, he put on his best puppy look, even going so far as to place both his hands on the guy's chest. “Hey, do you think we can go now?”

There was a flicker in Billy's eyes that he would know later he should have paid attention to, but at that moment he didn't notice. “Uh, sure, a couple more drinks first?”

Not quite what he wanted, and tomorrow was already looking to be a “stay in bed and cry because of the hangover” day, but he wasn't going to have a tantrum or anything.

They had the drinks, that was good, but there was something genuinely wrong with his brain. It felt like lights were dimming and time was slowing down. “D-donfeel... good.”

“Aww.” It didn't sound all that sympathetic. “Poor baby.” Still no. “I'll look after you.” Was there laughing in the background, low-pitched and fading?

He was too woozy to know what was happening. But he trusted him. Why shouldn't he?

Part two is here.


piano on fire - apiphile
white horses, they will take me away

Latest Month

November 2015


Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Lilia Ahner