63And so here it is. The fourth part of the still un-named series, although that is subject to change. Basically, it's a fic from Illkitt's point of view, from his past, through the bit with Ricki, and then on to his future. Should be fun. Then after this is part five, also unnamed right now, but I'm sure I'll think of something soon. That's gonna be fun to write. But here goes...
Dedicated To: Dalkny
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Warning: Mentions of child abuse and rape
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Quietly he laughs and shaking his head/creeps closer now, closer to the foot of the bed/and softer than shadow and quicker than flies/his arms around me and his tongue in my eyes/'Be still, be calm, be quiet now, my precious boy, don't struggle like that or I will only want you more'/And
it's much too late to get away or turn on the light/the spiderman is
having me for dinner tonight
Lullaby- The Cure
Talk to your daddy in that tone of voice/There's a belt hanging over the
door
Blue Flashing Light- Travis
I feel like this won't go away/ No matter how hard I try to/ Squeeze my
eyes shut so I can't see
Take It- Staind
I can't control my anger, it burns me up inside
Amplifier- The Deadlights
Do you ever get the feeling that you're sinking? I do.
Celestial (The Tower)- Isis
Some like it tight/some like it loose/some need a reason/some need no excuse/some like it dirty/some like it clean/some like it tender/some
like it mean
Some- Michael Sheehy and Brian Molko
Slackerbitch, fag hag, whore/Looks real cute her lips are
sore/Slackerbitch, fag hag, whore/dripping sex from every pore.
Slackerbitch- Placebo
Anytime your desperate baby, so am I/Situations desperate baby, so am I/I'm cheating and hustling and I'm telling lies/I'd like to stop but I'm
too gone to try
Situation Desperate- Dream City Film Club
Find all the love they took away/Cause your head is a brick wall/and your
heart is a football/and your eyes broken windows when you cry
Good Day To Die- Travis
Take me around again/Just don't pull over/this time would you please
drive faster/... roll these misty windows down to catch my breath again/and then go and go and go just drive me home and back again/here I
lay, just like always/don't let me/go take me to the edge
Passenger- Deftones
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Chapter One
It was touch and go when he was born. Nearly two months premature and with a breathing problem, he spent most of his first few days in an incubator, struggling to live.
His mother stayed, after suffering massive blood loss, but eventually recovered to watch her first-born and only son dip up and down in health. His father practically lived at the hospital, flitting between the house and the ward. Everyone prayed.
He made it through though; everyone said God must have something bigger planned for him, although, by the end of his life, his belief in God was ruined.
His mother named him Illkitt. An unusual name for an unusual baby. He was born with hair, black and soft and spiky like a startled baby monkey. As he grew older, his eyes changed shades, becoming a strange and piercing hazel colour, flecked with grey, green and brown. He was tiny, built on a miniature scale and he never put on much weight, a physical consequence of his early birth that stuck with him throughout life.
For the first few years of his life he grew up normally. He was gregarious and talkative at an early age, and his mother and father proudly showed him off to everyone, the little boy chattering, first in unformed sounds, then later in streams of words about anything to anyone who'd give him some attention.
His first few years in school varied. He was fine in kindergarten, friendly and bubbly and often naughty, as he had a wicked streak in him, but he wasn't malicious. As he moved up the years he was bullied for his diminutive size and pretty features, made worse by his eyes, with their striking colour and long black lashes. Older girls cooed over him, boy's his age picked on him, but he'd fight back in spades, sometimes coming home bloody and bruised, but defiant. He'd been fighting since birth and apparently wasn't going to stop now.
Generally though, as far as life went, Illkitt's was pretty normal.
He became more perceptive and sensitive to other people as he got older, noticing his mother's frequent mood swings, catching her taking tablets once or twice, often seeing her crying, or sitting alone in apparent misery. His father explained that his mum was sick, that she felt sad for no reason and that there wasn't much that Illkitt could do to help her except for being extra-specially good.
So whenever Illkitt saw his mother in one of her 'bad moods', he'd make sure to give her a hug and tell her he loved her, which usually seemed to cheer her up a little. At least she smiled. He didn't find out why she was depressed, or even the right word for his mother's illness until later.
After the incident.
When Illkitt was a bit older, his mum and dad would go out now and then, about once a month. When this happened, his mum's older brother Paul would baby-sit. Illkitt loved being babysat by Uncle Paul, as he let him pick what he wanted to eat for dinner, and let him sit on his lap while they watched a video of Illkitt's choice before going to bed, and Uncle Paul usually always brought some small present for Illkitt when he came round.
Plus, his mother seemed so much happier with Uncle Paul around. She laughed more often and just looked all around younger, as if the dark tinge that haunted her was banished by Uncle Paul's presence.
Then, a few weeks before Illkitt's tenth birthday, Uncle Paul did something that was the beginning of the end for Illkitt, something that killed who he had been forever, leaving another boy entirely to go on.
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Illkitt woke up with a start, lying still and wondering what it was that had woken him.
He looked anxiously around in the semi-dark of his room and relaxed when he saw the figure of his Uncle Paul in the half open doorway. He supposed that the man had just looked in to see if he was asleep, and he yawned, the call of dreams already beckoning.
When Uncle Paul didn't leave and go back downstairs, but shut the door behind him and came to stand over his bed, Illkitt rubbed his eyes and sat up a little.
"Uncle Paul?"
Uncle Paul knelt down by his bed with a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.
"What's going on?" Illkitt asked in a hushed voice. Maybe there was someone else in the house!
Uncle Paul just stood and pulled his covers back.
"Shhhh Illkitt. Just be quiet okay. Be quiet." He whispered, Illkitt becoming afraid as his uncle's hands pulled at his clothes. He tried to twist away, not liking this, but his uncle held him down.
"Uncle Paul, please stop." He asked, voice trembling.
"It's okay Illkitt. Just be a good boy and don't say anything." His uncle told him, continuing to undress him.
When his uncle's hands moved up his legs, pinching and fondling in places that made Illkitt feel afraid and disturbed, he sobbed and tried to fight back. "Uncle Paul! Stop!" He yelped louder, but his uncle didn't listen to him, didn't listen to him at all.
His uncle didn't listen when he screamed at him to stop, didn't listen after that when he just screamed from the pain and the violation, knowing that no matter how many times Uncle Paul told him that it was okay, that he was a good boy, what was being done to him was inherently wrong. Eventually he stopped his futile fighting, as it only made the pain worse. He lay there and screamed and sobbed until his throat bled while his uncle took him viciously, then lay next to him afterwards, smoothing back his sweat soaked hair and cooing in his ear before it started all over again.
After a millennia in his bed, his uncle finally left, pulling his clothes back on, covering him back over and slipping out of the room like nothing had happened. Illkitt lay in bed in shock, warm blood and body fluids sliding out of him.
He heard his parents come home, heard Uncle Paul tell them that he'd been a very good boy, but a little poorly so he'd gone to bed early. He heard Uncle Paul leave and pretended to be asleep when his dad stuck his head round the door to see if he was asleep.
After he heard them go to bed he got up, still shaking and unhealthily pale, and used the light of his alarm clock to look at the mess on his sheets. He pulled them off, moving mechanically, then snuck out and threw them into the dumpster's next door. He returned to bed and flipped the mattress over, then took his sheets and made a nest in his cupboard, feeling physically sick whenever he went near the bed.
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He'd spent practically all of the next day in the bathroom, telling his parents that he felt sick when he finally had to come out and face them. He looked pale and walked around nearly doubled over, clutching his midriff when he did walk. They talked about sending him to the doctor's, but Illkitt didn't want to leave the house and convinced them he just had a stomach thing.
But his behaviour changed. He became silent and sullen, withdrawn and prone to fits of anger and sudden misery. He was on holiday from school, so hadn't faced that trauma yet. His parents figured that it was just growing boy problems, trying to not make a serious thing about it.
But at dinner one day, a few weeks after Illkitt had turned ten, while he was picking listlessly at the food that he couldn't seem to eat these days, his parents were once again talking about going out.
"Will Paul be okay to watch Kitt?" His dad asked his mum.
Illkitt nearly threw up right there, and before he could stop himself he blurted out. "Uncle Paul raped me last time you left me with him."
There was utter silence from both parents. Illkitt bowed his head and gripped the edge of his seat hard, breath coming in little gasps now that he'd finally told his parents.
"Wh-what?" His dad asked, shocked. His mother said nothing, hand over her mouth.
Illkitt sobbed once. "He came into my room." He whimpered. "And he. he took my clothes off." He wept now. "And I told him to stop it but he didn't, he wouldn't listen. h-he wouldn't get off me." He ended with a squeak, tears dripping of the end of his nose and into his uneaten dinner.
The rest of the family didn't move. His dad blinked over and over, his eyes glassy.
"Illkitt." He said roughly, but couldn't say anymore.
"You lying little BASTARD!" His mother suddenly screamed, jumping up out of her chair. Illkitt jumped, horrified, staring at his mother in disbelief. His dad stood up.
"Anna, please."
Illkitt's mother shook her head and lunged at Illkitt, slapping him hard across the face. "You're a LIAR! Liar! Get upstairs!"
Illkitt ran, in utter shock, dived into the cupboard in his room and sat there, shaking and crying. He heard his parents shouting, screaming at each other downstairs, then heard footsteps thundering up the stairs. He cowered back, but heard the steps go into his parent's room, and the door slamming, before the faint sounds of his mother crying came through.
He stayed where he was, the tears now stopped to make way for silent and staring shock. He felt himself crumbling apart inside, the slap on his face from his mum's hand ringing red on his pale cheek. Of all the reactions in the world, he hadn't expected this. Not from his mum.
The door opened but Illkitt barely moved to look up. His dad entered, looking for his son and finally finding him in the cupboard, crouching down, his arm rested against the doorframe, looking like he'd aged ten years.
"Hey." He said softly.
Illkitt didn't move.
"Kitt." He sighed. "Were you telling the truth? I won't be mad."
Illkitt clenched his fists. HE wished to God he were lying. "I'm not lying." He said quietly.
His dad seemed to shatter, without moving a muscle. Something inside him fell down when Illkitt said that.
After that day, nothing was ever the same.
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Thought this was a good a place as any to stop. This fic is Illkitt's life. I'm not expecting it to be very long, but it will be very dark and angsty. Such a change from my usual stuff (!)