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Author Topic: Wicked Games: The Story of GAM {Intermission: Pregnancy and Marital Issues}  (Read 3329 times)

Offline Dswizzle10

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Yo~ I was watching Matsuura Aya's Yo Yo Girl Cop and all the explosions {KABOOOOOM!} made me think of this. I decided to make this a little side project. I may or may not update before I finish my current fic, Relapse & Recovery. I make no promises, but if people want me to update, I'll heavily consider it.

This story also has a theme song, which I will introduce in the first chapter. So without further ado,  I introduce my newest project:


Wicked Games: Prologue



It started with a fire,

Not a fire of love and passion,

An explosion,

Biting and burning,

Full of hate and sadness,

It was scorching and consuming,

It felt like Hell was giving me a back breaking hug,

In actuality,

It just broke an ankle,

My recovery came in time,

Physically, not mentally,

I didn’t want to be touched there,

Wounds still bleeding lived inside,

I built a castle surrounding my heart,

No one was allowed in,

It’s was my law but,

Then again, this is a yanki speaking,

I break laws


Wicked Games
« Last Edit: July 01, 2012, 02:52:12 AM by Dswizzle10 »

Offline kuro808

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Re: Wicked Games: The Story of GAM
« Reply #1 on: June 15, 2012, 08:47:03 AM »
a GAM story... interesting

action?
Random Thought:

tumblr

R.I.P. Jab!  Dad/friend

Offline Dswizzle10

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Wicked Games: The Story of GAM {Chapter 1}
« Reply #2 on: June 16, 2012, 09:40:12 AM »
^ Yessss. Another little something for the limited supplies of GAM love in this thread. Action? Perhaps. I'm not very good at writing action scenes, I think. So, this is new for me.  :nervous I figured I'd go ahead and put this up since I've went over it a million times. Now I'm taking a small break to regroup.  :bath:

The theme song of this little story:


The Beginning



om…?

Wh---a-e---you?

Mom?

My eyes flutter open and my hands flew immediately to my right eye.

“Fuck.” I hiss, pulling broken pieces of porcelain away from my bleeding and bruised skin. He got in a cheap shot.

Where was I again?

I roll onto my hands and knees (carefully avoiding the broken remains of my lamp), barely holding my lunch down, as I crawl to the nearest wall. I needed to be upright; otherwise the floors will be slick with regurgitated yakiniku. My vision went in and out of focus. It settled finally, and I glanced around my dim lit surroundings.

A Matsuura Aya poster?

My room. I’m in my room. I let out a breath I’ve been holding in relief. I’m safe here for now.

I watch my blood roll off of my fingertips, dribbling it back and forth before I flick it to the floor.

Crash

“Get the hell out!”

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of my way?”

“I don’t have to! This is my house too!”

“Motoko, get—“

“No!”


“Mom!” I croak, stumbling to my feet on weak limbs. I gasp in pain, hands splaying out as I crash into the wall. My vision swirls around again and I feel sick. I lurch to my window, throw it open, and stick my head out to purge my upset stomach.

My throat burns and burns. I pinch my eyes shut in disgust for letting the contents of my stomach out, and outside a window none the less.

I can’t breathe. I’m choking. My eyes start to tear and I stare at a star in the sky. I wish this was over. Please let it be over.

“Motoko, get out of my way!”

Mom!

Finally, my guts seemed to calm themselves, and I let my face fall against the window frame. The outside air is cool on my heated skin. I wish I could stay right here, living in this moment of peace, but I can’t.

I withdraw my head back into my sweltering room, some unknown feeling telling me to grab something, and keep it with me to remind of home. Of all the things I have, I choose Matsuura Aya’s first photo book that came out last year. I slip it under my shirt and pray it doesn’t get bent.

The hairs on my neck stand on end as I stumble down the steps, over destroyed photo frames, pieces of wall, and other objects that were hanging only a few hours ago. My vision starts to blur again in my right eye; I choose to focus on my blood trails on the wall so I don’t fall and make noise.

I stop at the last couple steps just as a lamp flies by.

“Stop it! I never asked for this to be brought into my home!”

“Mom…” I croak, closing my eyes as pain flashes through my system.

“Get out of my way!”

My bastard uncle. I hope she kills him. No, I hope I kill him.

I pant for air. It’s hot.

My fingers creep down and latch onto a broken shard of glass that curves into a wicked point. It’s all I have for self-defense.

I peek around the corner.

Mom doesn’t notice me and continues to push my uncle away. They struggle about broken tables and chairs, mutilated couches, and a broken flat-screen. I watch with open disgust as my uncle once again tries to knock my mom away, from what, I can’t see.

My strength is slowly coming back to me. Only a few more minutes and I’ll be able to do something. I can end him. Mother and I can be happy.

A shriek interrupts what was beginning to be a daydream, and I automatically know it’s from mother. Pain wracks through my skull like a jackhammer and I feel dizzy again.

I’m sorry, mom. Just another minute and I’ll save you.

They settle into a game of push and shove, barely moving from the corner of the living room. Mother is fighting a losing battle. Uncle has his back to me, just how I need it. I don’t think I’m able to fight at my normal level, but mother needs me.

I step into the doorway, “Uncle.”

Mother gapes in shock. I’m sure I’m not a pretty sight with half-digested yakiniku drying on my lips along with blood dripping from the various cuts above my eye. Still, I send my uncle a hatred filled glare, and grip my makeshift weapon tighter.

Ah, baka. I made a mistake. Mother was too focused on me, giving uncle the perfect chance to slink by and get to what he wanted.

“No!” mother screams, desperately tackling him to the ground just as he taps it. I scream too, but it’s for my mother. I drop the glass shard and stagger into the room, gagging for fresh air.

Mother is crying her eyes out and screaming something I can’t quite understand through the ringing of my ears. She keeps my uncle pressed firmly onto the ground and furiously points to the thing he was after.

Tick

Tock


Shit! It’s a bomb!

“Mother!” I cry out, about to lunge forward and grab her, but she motions for me to get away. She points up just as my uncle flips her over, scrambling for the knife in his pocket. There’s more hollow screams I can’t understand while I stand there, mortified beyond belief. She swipes it out of his hand, kicking it out of his reach, as she pins him down once more.

She points up again and screams, “Go!”

I glance at the timer placed on the front of many sticks of dynamite.

45 seconds and counting.

Survival instincts kick in and I dash up the stairs, pain be damned. I crash to my knees, but my momentum forces me back upward. I bust through the exit door and scramble up the steps onto the rooftop terrace and look around.

Where can I go?

Come on, Miki, use your head! You’re standing on something that’s about to fall to the ground burning!

A nearby roof top. I can make it if I run and jump far enough.

No time for debating, I need to go!

I run as best I can, blacking out every few seconds as I approach the edge. I sprint in blindness, eyes fluttering shut without warning. By memory alone, I jump over the edge and into air, feeling an odd weightlessness. My eyes open slightly and I think, I won’t make it. I’m dying right now.

Whoosh-BOOM!

Fire. Burning objects.

I’m hurtling onto the rooftop, landing on a couple of lawn chairs and table with mountains of debris.

I wail and scream as loud as I can once I manage to come to again, clutching my burning skin and broken bones; yet the pain that stings the loudest is knowing that my mother is dead inside that crumbling building. Dead.

“Mother!” I cry out, reaching for my home. Tears stream down my face and mix with blood.

“Mother!” I shout again, the ringing in my ears increasing, as my senses shut down.

“Mo…th…er…”

-----------

“Good morning, sunshine.”

My tongue darts out to wet my lips, but all it does is make everything drier. I groan and roll over.

What the fuck is going on!

My eyes flash open and I glare at the detective (at least I think that’s what he is) seated across the room. I attempt to roll over again, only to feel my limbs ache and strain in protest. I lunge forward and growl. The detective only gives me a knowing smile and reclines into his chair.

“Why am I tied up?” I snap, panicking when I notice the bed sheets tying my arms and legs to the bed (and a cast around my ankle). Furious, I pull and tug on my restraints, ignoring the pain that results soon after my actions. “Answer me!” I yell, cringing at the sound of my voice. It sounds like nails on chalk board.

“Why am I tied up? How long have I been here?” I growl, impatiently waiting for his reply.

Finally, after he’s gotten his sick entertainment of watching me struggle in pain, he speaks. “See how you’re acting right now? That’s why you’re tied up. You’ve been here for a week.”

A week. I’ve been tied to a damn hospital bed for a week.

My skin crawls at the thought and I start to pull at my restraints again.

“Listen, honey, you aren’t getting out of those.”

“The fuck I am!” I hiss. Does this man want to die? I swear as soon as I get out of this—

“Watch your mouth, honey. A little girl like you should show some respect.” He sighs, tapping a pack of cigarettes against his leg. I hate this man already.

“You aren’t my damn mother.” I spat back, cursing just to egg him on. I grin when he sends a disapproving glare my way. I don’t listen to rules, especially coming from a rude man! We glower at each other for an unknown amount of time. I scoff at him and go back to my restraints.

“Didn’t I tell you, you won’t be able to get ou-“

“I have to use the bathroom! Damn, can you stop being so bitchy!?” I shout, amused by his shocked expression. Of course, I’m probably the rude and disrespectful one right now, but I’m exhausted; I’m hungry and all I want to do is get out of this hospital.

Sighing and gritting his teeth, detective guy gets up and cuts me off the bed.

“I won’t give you a disease, ya’ know.” I snap in frustration, rubbing my sore wrists from where someone got knot happy, while I note the disgusted look on his face. I slip off of the bed on surprisingly steady feet, save for a little shakiness on my right leg, the one in a cast.

“I know. I was just thinking… you look so much better when you were knocked out. Bathroom’s over there. Don’t do anything stupid, because I’m going out for a smoke.” He says tersely, slapping the cigarette carton against his leg once again, as he leaves me alone. Good riddance.

For good measure, I walk along the edge of the room for support, because I don’t exactly trust my body right now.

I lean against the door, struggling with my motor skills to open the door. I slip in, hunt for a light switch, and sigh in relief when my palm presses against it. Carefully, I shut the door and lock it. I do what I need to do, then head to the sink and cringe at the sight of my reflection.

My soapy hands brush against my face and I sigh in pleasure. It feels good on what skin isn’t covered by bandage, which is most of my face. Supposedly, the rest of my body is alright, save for a couple bruises and scratches. My skin is also surprisingly pale. It’s always been pale, but I look like a ghost.

“Boo!” I say to myself, holding my hands up like claws in the mirror, “Oh, crap.”

The skin on my hands and wrists is red, and it’s no wonder I woke up so sore.

I guess it wasn’t a good idea to go nuts the last minute I was on the rooftop.

I let out a chuckle and smile grimly; the chuckle comes out as a gasp for air and I remind myself that I haven’t eaten or had anything to drink for a whole week. Grumbling to myself about how nurses are rude, nosey, and overly cheerful (come on, you work in a hospital. Why so happy? Are you screwing a doctor like in the dramas?), I stumble back into the room and lean against the wall next to the bathroom.

“Woooo! That’s a workout.” I mutter, wiping some of the sweat beading on my brow, as I catch my breath. I never thought walking barely five feet would be so tiring.

I roll my neck around until I hear a satisfying pop and trudge out of my hospital room.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Urgh. I hate how soft I make my voice, “But can I get some water and something to eat?” I call out to the nearest nurse I see.

“Of course. Name?” the nurse asks, looking me up and down to see if she recognizes me. She doesn’t.

“Fujimoto Miki.” I say, leaning against a chair so I don’t have to put weight on my ankle. The nurse springs to my side, carefully examining my ankle.

“Wow. So you’re her?”

“I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.” I sigh, flinching when she touches a sensitive part of my bandages.

“The news is all over you. They don’t know much, but I hear there was a drug deal and—“

“First of all, don’t say there was some drug deal and I put on a cape and saved everyone. I didn’t do that, plus you don’t even know me. I’m not a saint. Two, there was only a bomb. I jumped onto another building and managed to survive. Just me. Three, where can I get some pain killers? My head is killing me.” I finish, rubbing my temples for affect.

The girl looks taken aback by my bluntness, but that’s just how I am. I hate beating around something when I can just get to the point.

She gets the hint right away and leaves for the main office, instructing me to wait in my room and my doctor will come see me.

Yay! Just what I wanted—a creepy old man telling me things about myself and touching my body.

I grumble and haul myself back into bed; I keep myself busy by untying what’s left of my restraints.

Sheesh, I can’t have acted that badly for them to tie me up this badly, but oh, anything to see an innocent girl tied up. Oh yes. A sexual thrill right there.

“I’m not innocent.” I remind myself as I tear at the cloth on my wrist with my teeth, memories of some the reasons I got detentions resurfacing.

“Ah, look at her! She’s up and looks quite well.”

I glance up and note that there’s an old man standing in the doorway dressed in a white jacket and dress pants.

“Yeah. I still like her better when she was conked.”

“Ugh, you’re back.” I growl when I see the detective strut in.

The doctor chuckles and I send him a warning look. I don’t see what’s so funny. Doctor ignores me and whispers something to that jerk-off detective. He leaves and shuts the door behind him.

Good riddance! I puff to myself, spitting out a piece of bed sheet. Tastes like chlorine.

“Good afternoon, Miss Fujimoto. I’m your doctor. Please, call me Tomo.” He requests, pulling up a chair to my bedside.

My god that’s a huge mole!

“Eh? What was that, Miss Fujimoto? I didn’t catch that?”

Uh oh, must have actually said that out loud. Reminder: Keep mouth in check.

“It’s nothing.” I say a little too quickly, playing with my blanket in hopes he doesn’t question me anymore.

“So, how do you feel?” He asks, fixing his stethoscope so he can check for himself. I don’t see the point in asking if you’re going to check yourself. Idiot.
“I have a headache and I’m sore all over. Can I get some painkillers?” I ask in irritation, as he slides the bell around my back. He chuckles heartily, goes quiet for a minute, and then starts again. This man is questionable.

“I’m inquiring about your mental state of mind. I need to know that before I put you on any medication.”

Grrrrr,  just give me some damn painkillers!

“I’m fine.”

“How’s the passing of your mother and fa-“

“Uncle.”

“The passing of your mother and uncle then. How are you faring with that?”

All my muscles go tense and I lock my jaw. That’s what irks me most about people who work in hospitals. They’re so… cold with things. You’re mother just died, eh? Let’s rub it in your face now!

“Like any other person would when their mother dies. I don’t care about my uncle.” I respond quietly, deciding it’s best if I stare out the window for a while.

He nods in satisfaction, “You seem to be healing well, inside and out. I assume you’re naturally very cantankerous and you aren’t using anger to cope. I’ll have a nurse bring you some medication. Tomorrow, you’ll begin physical therapy and continue for about two more weeks, unless your ankle improves in less time. Have you walked on it any?”

“I walked a little.” I answer in as little words as possible.

“And?”

“And?” I shoot back, crossing my arms. What more does he want?

“How was it? Did you tire easily?”

“Only a little. It’s still strong. Are we done?”

He hums in approval and pushes his chair back against the wall. He scribbles a couple things on a clipboard and begins to exit my room, but he stops.

Whaaaaat now?

“In case you weren’t informed by Detective Hiro, you’ll have to go to the police department when you’ve healed up to discuss a few things.”

“Like what?” I shout in disbelief, and I’m beginning to understand why they had me tied up.

He shrugs and moves aside just as a nurse walks in with a plastic cup. “Get some rest.” He offers.

---------------

“Do you believe your uncle was a drug dealer?”

“I know he was.”

I play with my handcuffs; I’m once again, restrained just in case my anger gets the best of me. I glare at my tennis shoes, which are cheap dollar store quality since all my stuff got burnt to a crisp. I just finished up my physical therapy and was released from the hospital today, two days earlier than expected, and they brought me straight to the police station. So, I’m dressed in sweaty track pants and a tank top, sitting in a heated room. Just wonderful.

Detective Hiro rolls his eyes and looks at the papers in his lap again, “Since you knew he was a drug dealer, why didn’t you come to authorities?”

“Because I got knocked around a lot.”

“Abused?”

“Mhm.” I gesture to the un-bandaged, but still healing bruises and cuts on my face.

He scribbles something down and scratches at the stubble on his chin.

“Why does this matter? He’s dead. You can’t really do much now.” I point out, stretching my hands over my head.

“True, but there’s still the matter of money you might inherit.” He counters back, sending a pointed look in my direction.

I shrug, “Anything else?”

“According to evidence we found at what remains of your home, it was destroyed by an explosive device. Can you give me an accurate picture of what happened that day, leading up to the incident?”

I sigh and roll my eyes. Of course he would want that.

“Well, it was a regular day really.”

------------

“Hey, Miki! Look what I got my hands on today!” my childhood friend, Maki, yelled, jerking me behind a heater on the school rooftop. I shoved her hands off of me. I don’t like to be touched.

“What?” I asked, not even trying to look interested, because I really wasn’t. I had just gotten yelled at by a teacher for my horrible grade in his class. Before he was even done, I stormed off and headed for lunch on the rooftop.

I already know I have detention for that.

Maki deduced an unopened package of cigarettes from her uniform sweater. I raised an eyebrow in surprise. Maki wasn’t an angel, I’ll give you that, but she never did more than steal a candy bars and cookies from a convenience store. I should know; I was by her side, stealing some treats for myself when she did it.

She unwrapped the plastic film and tossed it to the side, shaking the carton to loosen one of the death sticks for me. I turned my nose up and declined, “That messes up your vocal chords.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, “Suit yourself.”

“Sheesh, what else do you have in there?” I asked, eyes widening when she pulled out a lighter. Of course, when you smoke a cigarette, you light it on fire, but I wasn’t really thinking about it.

Maki put her cigarette to her lips and lit it, slipping the lighter back into her pocket, as she took a drag. She shrugged and pulled it from her lips, puffing a cloud of smoke my way.

“Dammit, Goto!” I howled, swatting viciously at the white wisps of smoke in my face. She gave me a cheeky grin and let out a cough.

“Miki, I thought you were the bad one of us two.” Maki pointed out, tapping some of her ashes into a puddle of water beside her.

I couldn’t really deny that. I did have detention most of the time, when I didn’t, people thought the world was at end. I did drink on the occasion. I often did transport ‘goods’ for my uncle to his customers, or vice versa, and very often did I get into a fight with the supplier or customer. I was good though and hadn’t raised a hair of suspicion from the cops. I did have a gang that was looking at me as a potential member. Yet, as bad as some of those things were, I did not touch drugs or tobacco. I have my standards and values.

In response to Maki, I shrugged and rested against the wall. She already knew what I did and why or why not I chose to do it.

“You aren’t still thinking of trying to become a singer are you? You’re yanki attitude would scare them off.” She teased lightly, but I think the personality part was serious.

I made a face and shrugged again, “What about it? I like to sing.”

“You sure about that? I think you just want to get to know Aya, be her best friend, then get to bow-chicka-wow’ing with her before she goes into dance rehearsal.”

“Watch yourself, Goto.” I growled with a sly grin, but chose not to deny that fact, “She would be late to rehearsal, get it right.”

“Hahaha, you’re such a joker, Mikitty.” Maki grinned, stomping out what was left of her cigarette, as she stuck the carton back into her pocket.

“You think it’s a joke today, but we’ll see who’s touching an idol in General Captain King Tsunku’s office and who’s on the streets!” I say, saluting said man with fake respect.

Hours later, I was getting yelled at by the detention teacher for keeping her behind on such a beautiful day. She acts like she has a hot date or something. After my lecture, she practically kicked me out and sent me on my way home just as the sun was going down.

Uh oh.

What was today again?

Friday. Ohhhhhhh, shit.


I ran home as fast as I could. Actually, the more accurate term is free running. I started about eight years ago, which was actually when I had turned eight. It was a drug deal gone wrong and I needed an escape. I managed to jump on top of a trash can and climb on top of a building. I hid for a while, but then I realized I was pretty high up on that building and my only way down was a streetlamp and a window sill. From that day on, I started free running.

So, I managed to get home pretty quick using the fire escape that led to my bedroom window. It was quiet in the house, so I figured things were alright.

“Hey, Aya.” I murmured, giving the poster beside my bed a quick kiss in greeting. Yeah, yeah, I’m weird. Who cares—a girl can dream.

I imagined her squealing in delight and give me a peck on the lips accompanied by a welcoming hug as well. Of all the posters in my room, this one had to be my favorite, which was the reason I kept it by my bed.

Okay, maybe it was my favorite because it was a bikini shot, I’m guilty of that one.

I was pretty exhausted, so I collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to take my shoes off. I laid there for a while, going over my life, wondering when my innocence left me.

I turned bad the day my dad died.

I nod in acceptance of that answer, but don’t reflect on the memories of my dad, besides the fact that he was a good man. I wonder though, how did his brother become so bad? It’s the last thought on my mind before I decide to take a quick nap.

I feel like my eyes were barely closed more than five minutes before my dreams are interrupted by my bedroom door slamming open and lodging itself into the wall.

“Miki!”

I jump out of bed and edge to the window, wide awake and very aware of my uncle’s large form in the doorway. I carefully sniff the air, not alcohol. I don’t smell weed or anything either.

Man, that’s bad. You recognize the smells of drugs.

I tell the voice inside me to shut up and take a subtle defensive stance. Uncle’s eyes are glossed over and blood shot. So he was smoking something. I don’t bother to say anything to him. I’ll just get yelled at for it.

“Why don’t you have a job?” he growls, stalking over to me and pinning my in the corner. I turn my head to the side and focus on the wall.

“I just turned 16, give me a break. I’ve been looking for like a year.” I say in the calmest voice I can manage.

He grabs my roughly by the shoulders and bends down to look into my eyes.

Here we go with the personality switch…

“You’re looking for a job? How dare—“

I kick him away from me, slipping between his legs and rolling the door.

Agression. Angel dust.

I crack my knuckles and rock on my heels. I push all my emotions away, focusing on anger and hatred instead. It isn’t too hard. I hate this man with a passion.

“You’re a little bitch, you know that? Just like your father.” He hisses, rubbing the spot where I kicked him.

I ignore his talk, save for the comment about my dad (which makes my chest swell in pride), watching his feet and hands to see what he’s going to do. He lunges forward and swings at my head. I duck and step the side. Uncle may be a big and imposing man, but I’m faster and more agile.

I use my momentum, sending my fist crashing into his chin in my best uppercut to date. He spits out some blood and puts his hands up, muttering something under his breath.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind.” I say, blocking a well-timed kick to my face, but moving too late to avoid the fist colliding with my temple.  I groan and collapse on my hand and knees from the force.

“I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill your mother. You’re both ungrateful little shits.” He says, voice going up an octave every few words. He cackles and shoves a boot into my side.

“The hell if you do!” I spat, moving to get back up again.

Crack

I didn’t know what happened, but all I see are little bits and pieces of white surrounding me, and sizzling white flashes of pain on my face. Uncle’s boots stalk of my room.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll rip you to shreds and feed you to the hogs, you bastard!” I shout in rage, laying my head down. Everything starts to fade to black.

Mother!

Mo…the…r…


---------------

“Let me read this back, just to be sure everything is right: It was a regular day for you. You met your friend on the rooftop of the school to work on some homework and have lunch. Then, after serving detention, you went home. Your uncle was smoking—what was it?”

“Angel Dust, I think. He was acting crazier than usual.” I reply with a frown, playing with the chains between each cuff.

“He physically confronted you, knocked you out with your lamp—“

“And I don’t know what happened between the time I was out to the time I woke up.” I interrupt with a yawn.

“Of course. So, you woke up, went downstairs to confront your uncle. You walked in on some kind of argument?”

“Mhm. It wasn’t really different from the arguments they have all throughout the year.”

“For protection of yourself and your mother, you picked up a shard of glass as a weapon. When you stepped into the room, you distracted your mother just enough for your uncle to get by and activate the bomb. They tussled around and your mother kept screaming for you to go—“

“Yeah, but I couldn’t hear much. I just saw her waving her arms and saying something to me. The one thing I did hear was that bomb ticking—like tick, tock and I ran upstairs, through the exit stairs that take you up to the terrace. I was looking for an escape and I jumped for a nearby building. I free run a lot, but I wasn’t able to fully clear the distance. Then the bomb detonated and sent me onto the rooftop. I passed out then.” I finish for him, taking turns rubbing my wrists.

He grunts and reaches for something underneath the table. “Here,” he says, holding out something wrapped in brown paper to me, “They found this on you that night and figured you wanted it back.”

I raise an eyebrow and take the package, carefully tearing the paper aside, “Oh. I forgot all about this.”

 “Matsuura Aya fan, huh?” he asks with a knowing smile.

I nod and run my hands over the book. Thank God, there’s nothing wrong with it.

“Sir, the money got cleared for the kid. We’ve transferred it into a separate account for her. Here’s her card.” A younger officer walks in, hands Hiro a small package, completely ignoring my presence.

Ruuuuuude~

“Thank you, return to your office. I’ll be done in a minute. I have a few things to clear with her.” Hiro says, giving me a hard stare. I raise an eyebrow and send him a questioning look as the officer leaves us alone.

Hiro reaches across the table, unlocking my handcuffs, “Your mother had a little over 3,963,500 yen in her savings account. Were you aware?”

“My mom had that much saved up? I didn’t even know she had a bank account!” I exclaim, taking the package from him. Inside is a black Visa credit card.

He nods, “There’s also going to be another deposit of at least double that, coming from your uncle’s account. Now listen to me.”

I give me all my attention.

What’s he want?

“You’re sixteen, seventeen next month. Normally, I would send you to some orphanage since you're under eighteen, but I can tell you’re mature enough and can handle being on your own. Plus, they’d probably burn the orphanage when you got there.”

“You aren’t that bad, Ass-wipe.” I grin, deciding to get one last poke in.

“Neither are you, jackass.” He responds, tussling my hair, as he leaves the room, “You’re free to go. Leave town. Start clean. Get a nice apartment and a good job. You seem like a good kid.”

The door slams shut.

“Damn, Ass-wipe. I kind of miss you already.” I mutter to myself, tapping my new credit card against the table.

It seems like I lost everything last night. I had it all, now all I have to my name is over 1,000,000 in yen and Matsuura Aya’s first photo book.

What to do? He said to leave town, but I’m not going to jump into this without a plan.

Ah, I got it! I’ll go visit Maki and stay there tonight. Then I can figure out what I’m going to do.
« Last Edit: June 16, 2012, 10:31:31 PM by Dswizzle10 »

Offline kuro808

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Re: Wicked Games: The Story of GAM
« Reply #3 on: June 16, 2012, 10:44:14 AM »
Miki being a kickass teenager and drugs dealers :grin:

well the actions scenes were good enough for my reading and the hope is she can fight through til the end :nervous

Anyways great job
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Offline Dswizzle10

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^*bows repeatedly for not at least replying* Distractions these days...they're really... distracting :smoke:
I've worked on this for a while. For once, I wrote down the plot, thanks to Cap'n Estrea.  XD Just a little something for now.


Intermission: Pregnancy and Marital Issues


I nibbled on a leaf of lettuce, chewing slowly before letting the rest fall back into the colorful assortment of vegetables drenched with, my favorite, Italian dressing. Forcefully, I dug my teeth into the green object, flitting it around my mouth in thought. Tapping my fingers in time with the clock placed above the doors at the other end of the cafeteria. Okay, I can admit, I’m still nervous.

Where are you Julie? You’re never around when I need you!

On cue, a cheerful brunette skips through the cafeteria door, dressed in white scrubs with a heart plastered on the pocket. She glances around the crowded room as if she’s looking for someone (it’s safe to say that person is me), and grins when she notices me sitting alone in the corner, “Erica!”

I groan, hissing in lightly accented Japanese, “Julie, keep your voice down! That’s rude!

Seriously, this girl will never get that through her head. Pouting, she playfully bumps her butt against my side (much to my chagrin) and declares, “Come on, sis. Give it a break. You can’t be an uptight nurse all the time.”

“One, stop blurting that out to everyone in the building; two, I can’t help it.” I sigh in hushed English, pushing my plastic tray away from me. Casually, I toss my fork in the mixture as well before giving my older (can you believe that?) sibling an expectant look.

Oooo, give me the details! How were they? What’s Miki-sama like? Is Shoji as ugly as I predicted?” Julie splutters out, barely able to contain her excitement by wringing my shirt in her hands. I roll my eyes and force her hands off of me.

What a valley girl.

“It was…weird.” I frown, unable to find a better description for my only-hours-old experience. Julies gives me an irritated look, raising her eyebrows until there’s an evil hook in them.

“Urgh, come closer.” I sigh, brushing my blonde locks over my shoulder to bring some relief to the sweaty skin of my neck.

Happily, my older sister presses close, ignoring the bewildered stares of our Asian coworkers.

“I was just getting ready to go in…”


----------------


“Erica, you can do this! It’s just Fujimoto Miki, your idol, no one special. Just be cool,” I purr to my reflection, splashing my face with ice cold sink water. I nod and give myself a confident grin, only to have it morph into a miserable face.

“I can’t do it!” I wail in anguish, crumbling to my knees. How can I face the Fujimoto Miki? Mikitty? The grope monster! Princess Ayaya’s best friend for crying out loud!

Mmmmmm, I narrow my eyes at that last thought. I haven’t seen much of the two of them together. I wonder if Aya is upset over the situation. I probably would be if my best friend for over five years was supposedly reported to have spent three days with a man, not to mention that he’s nine years older, and then suddenly graduating from a prestigious company, getting married, and here comes the bomb, finding out you’re pregnant. Of course, as the completely loyal Mikitty fan, I’m happy that she’s found happiness. It sure takes guts to drop out of a company like that—guts I will never have. I shake my head and brush a fly-away strand of hair from my blue eyes.

“Erica! What you doing on floor!? You are paid to work, not to be lazy!” a female surgeon yells, crossing her arms and giving me a disapproving glare.

“Watashi wa nihongo o hanashimasu!” I shout back in frustration, straightening my attire as I stand. This woman can’t get it through her head that I took Japanese for five years! It would be so much easier for her to talk to me in her native language instead of broken English!

“Baka!”

I pout at the insult, nevertheless pleased that she’s at least insulting me in Japanese, and promptly take my leave. Muttering to myself in annoyance, I shove my hands in my pocket, counting off the room numbers.

240, 239, 238, 237…236.

Okay, Erica, it’s show time. Just be cool.

I take a deep breath and ready my hand to knock (just in case they’re…doing something I don’t want to know about). A familiar voice makes itself known behind the metal door my fist is hovering just millimeters above.

“You’re… you’re so stupid! I can’t stand you.”

“Me either.”

“I hate you.”

“Me too.”

“Ugh, maybe if you weren’t so annoying, I could learn to love you, but that’s impossible!”

“Like you’re ‘miss perfect’.” A male voice growls back with obvious annoyance, and I can only assume it’s the infamous Shoji Tomoharu. A female, clearly Miki, grunts and the shuffling of hospital bed sheets fills in the silence of the two parties.


“I can’t go in now!” I silently whisper, jerking myself away from the door to bang my head against the wall opposite. My luck! Even worse, I listened in! No, correction, I am listening in.

“I wish we could get this over with, then I wouldn’t have to be here with your ugly…whatever you call yourself!” Miki hisses.

Oh, God, please! Whatever you do, don’t let Miki make my death slow and painful! And, keep Julie away from my diary. She doesn’t need to know what happened that one time I was in the shower and… never mind. Anyways, please, keep her out! Magically open my bedroom window and fly it into a fire, or into the ocean and into a whale’s stomach!

Okay, you can do this, Erica! Just go in there and do the ultrasound. I take several deep breathes to control myself; it’s just the mood swings talking!

Hesitantly, I rap my knuckles against the door, surprised by the hushed silence that replaces their squabbling.

“Come in!” two voice call out happily.

Guess they aren’t celebrities just for their looks, I mentally sweat drop and scratch my head whilst pushing the door open.

“H-hi, my name is Erica. I’ll be conducting your ultrasound.” I stutter out, uncertainly reaching out to shake the father’s hand, a customary action with every patient. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of the famous ‘Fujimoto Death Glare’, and cringe involuntarily.

Shoji grunts in response, politely smiling and gripping my hand, “Nice to meet you. Are you from England?”

Slowly, I detach myself from him and gleefully take Miki’s hand, flashing her a honest smile, “I’m from America,” I reply, wondering if I seriously look like an English girl, “It’s an honor to meet you, Fuji-er…Miki-sama. I’m a big fan.” I discreetly roll my eyes as soon as the words leave my mouth, Way to be cool.

“Thank you, I appreciate all of the people who support me. Please, excuse my husband; he can be a little… silly.” Miki replies with forced affection, unconsciously gripping my hand tighter. I have a feeling by ‘silly’, she means ‘stupid’, as in, stupid ‘stupid’.

I chuckle nervously, “It’s no problem. Miki-sama, I’ll have to ask you to lift your shirt up so we can begin the ultrasound.” I turn my back to dig through a cabinet of medical supplies. Behind me, the tension swells unimaginably high, causing me to freeze in place. My throat grows dry when I finally come back to my senses, carefully grasping the gel tube in the very back of the cabinet. Anxiously, I wheel a chair next to the irritated woman’s side, squirting out a small amount of the clear gel onto her swelling stomach.

“Ah, that tickles!” Miki giggles, her hardened expression melting into a happy one.

“Oh thank goodness.” I gasp, having freaked out when her fist came awfully close to my hand resting on her bedside.

“Eh?” Shoji mutters in confusion, causing me to pale considerably.

“Um… The baby is staying in one spot, so it makes it…oh, it makes him easier to find.” I cover easily, staring at the black and white monitor to watch the small figure move his fists.

“A boy?” Miki and Shoji echo, the latter leaning over my shoulder for a better look.

Dear, why don’t you give her some breathing room?” Miki requests, a sweet smile filled with poison gracing her lips, causing the comedian and I to cringe while shifting away from each other.

No wonder some of the other members were afraid of her, I gulp, nearly choking on my own saliva before moving to point out all the baby’s body parts, which are all developing properly as far as I can see. Unfortunately, the tension between the…eh… happy couple rises once again, and the only thing keeping these two from murdering each other isn’t the other presence in the room (me), but the fact that Miki is currently fixated with her stomach. She stares at the round bulge fondly, stroking circles over the firm flesh with her hands.

I smile at the sight, thinking of how wonderful a mother she’ll turn out to be. At the same time, I pray that child gets only Miki’s physical traits, because let’s face it, that kid will be fine.

 Shoji, oddly enough, doesn’t dare to touch what will someday be his first son, which only makes curious as to what is going on between them. If I were married to Miki, I would be all over her. I would probably even ask to do the ultrasound myself instead of anyone else.

They looked so happy in the wedding pictures, I sigh, putting all the equipment back in its rightful place since I’ve done all that’s listed in my job description. After asking to be sure they have no questions, I stand, politely holding the door open for the couple.

“Thank you for your time, Erica-san.” Shoji says courteously, fully prepared to bow to me.

I bow my head and frantically wave my hands, “No, no, it’s quite the opposite, Shoji-sama.”

“No, really-“

“Thank you, Erica-san. Come on, dear. We need to go visit Aya-chan.” Miki cuts in impatiently, not so gently jerking her husband out of the room with a friendly wave to me.

Blinking in astonishment, I return the gesture, computing two things.

One, she and Aya are obviously still friends.

Two, Shoji and Miki are not as happy as they seem.


---------------


“And then—Hey, what are you typing?” I ask in frustration, struggling to get a look over Julie’s shoulder at the phone pressed against her thigh. “Don’t tell me you’re-“

“I’m just saying that Shoji is as ugly as I thought!” she defends, handing me her phone for proof.

Skeptical, I snatch the phone from her pedicured hands and carefully read over the newest post on her Twitter. “Wait, that’s all you managed to gather from that story?” I whisper in disbelief, dropping the phone in my hand.
Julie frowns and catches it, giving me the evil eye before cleaning the piece of technology with her shirt, “Yeah! The rest seems normal.”

“Sometimes, I really wonder how I ended up being the blonde.” I groan into my hands, massaging my temples.

----------------

And somewhere in the traffic filled streets of Tokyo, one angry twenty-six-year-old was wondering the very same thing.

Of course, her concern was:

Where did everything go wrong?

Offline kuro808

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 :lol:

that was amusing for an ultrasound appointment and in the end, still going to have to go through Ayaya :nervous
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Offline Dswizzle10

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I swear I'm a sadist when it comes to writing :sweatdrop: Call it a writer's block on the very last bit of R&R (and trust me, it's a REALLY small part I'm stuck on), but whatever the case, I'm im Sadist Writer Mode  XD And a teacher I know distracted me with an awesome book This is what I managed to convince myself to sit down and write, since I'm still trying to decide who the next letter author should be in Jailbird.   :doh:

Anyways, this is not recommended for the weak hearted...or pregnant people. *head scratch* Well of course it's only women... Ignore my blonde moment. Bottom line, no read-y if weak-y.

I need a nap~ And don't kill me, I've got too much to live for  :mon curtain:


Things That Begin With the Letter: N

Nightmare



The sunset was perfect, a warm blanket of security wrapping over the lies and danger icing into our skin, easing away the shock and guilt that was coursing through our tiny veins as well. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing that was cold. To tell you that it was a chilly day in Obihiro would be a complete lie. It was freezing. Snow was piled upon the streets, turning to slush and mixing with the slightly polluted rain water that plinked and plopped down to earth. It was cold. Going without a jacket and long pants was a foolish idea, and I remember how I almost got sick because of that (which was even more stupid, because we didn’t have money for medicine or a hospital visit), but maybe the scales tipped out even because I had a responsibility greater than my own well-being.

We were hungry, less than the hours before our incident, but still hungry. Our stomachs were painfully contracting upon themselves, probably beginning to digest themselves, sifting through the bits of sweets we had managed to get our chubby fingers on; yet it wasn’t enough.

We were hungry, but what were we hungry for? Justice. Revenge, maybe. Money. A guaranteed meal when we woke tomorrow morning. Maybe a few more cookies and Mont blanc cupcakes for tonight; we were foolish to scarf them down so quickly, but did we have any other choice? No.

“Mikmik.”

I suppressed a giggle, wondering what was so hard about saying “Miki”, but I decided I could give her a break this time. She was only four, after all.

“Yes, Maki?” I cringed, watching a few escaped drops of my saliva fly down into the street. I mentally sighed, desperately praying that my big teeth would come in sooner. Maybe Santa could bring me them. And maybe something nice for mommy, but nothing for uncle. He’s… strange.

I shook my head, willing thoughts of the man that looked similar to my disappeared father away, tilting my head so I could watch the obviously care free four-year-old swinging her legs over the edge of the roof-top. My mood sunk lower, eying the jacket and sweat pants hanging loosely from her body longingly. I shivered, rubbing my bare legs and arms bitterly, but told myself that this was for the best. Maki needed this more than I did, I repeated to myself, ignoring the nauseating warmth swimming through my head. My teeth chattered as I smoothed my rain soaked hair out of my face. Freezing, perhaps a little guilty, but not yet miserable.

“Do you think our papas would be proud?” she asked me, which made perfect since. I was older, maybe not by a lot, but I had more life experience. And with that came the privilege of being told secrets.

Even so, I didn’t know what had exactly happened to our dads. All I knew was that they wouldn’t be home again. Ever.

“Not sure.” I shrugged and licked my thumb, intending on brushing away icing from her face. She made a weird face at me, shying away immediately when she realized what I was trying to do.

“Savin’ it for later?”

“Yup.” And to emphasize her remark, she quickly stuck her tongue out and cleaned the dirty spot.

“Why don’t you know?”

“Cause I’m a dummy.” I yawn, leaning to one side and feeling my shorts to see if they were as soaked as they felt.

“Mikmik isn’t a dummy.”  Sing-songy and almost parrot-like. My little Maki. I was actually filled to the brim with pride since she wanted to be just like me and I was trying to set a good example with her. It wasn’t the best, but it was so much better than what we could have been doing. I needed to set some things straight with her, though.

“Maki, what we did was wrong.”

“Why?”

“We stole. Stealing is bad.”

“Oh.”

Of course. She wasn’t going to make this easier on me and it was plain to see that she didn’t understand at all. Guiltily, I glanced over my shoulder at the several small tins filled with crumbs and wrappers.

“So why did we do it?” she turned around and reached into a tin, pulling out a wrapper and licking what little bits of cake were left. My heart sank like a stone, plunging deep into the pit of my stomach and stewing in the mixture of feelings I had. I wanted to cry and throw a tantrum like I always did when I was upset or hungry, but it wouldn’t do anything except draw attention us. Ultimately, we would probably be found (along with the stolen goods) and taken away from home.

“We were hungry.” I say slowly, trying to understand the explanation I’ve offered up as well. Was it okay? The bakery we had stolen from was outrageously priced. Maybe it was a good lesson for them. I bet they’re mad. I would be mad too.

“So it’s okay to steal anytime we’re hungry?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, a habit my teachers were desperately trying to stop.

“I…no…yes. I don’t know.”

She had me there. This was the first time we had stolen something like this; we were lucky enough to get away clean. We had been barely getting by, eating the smallest portions of food and while it wasn’t enough to keep a lot of meat on our bones, it kept us alive for these last few months.

Our families had always been close, at least our mothers had been, university roommates or something. Somewhere along the line, Maki was born, giving me a playmate, or better yet, a little sister. It wasn’t intentional, but taking care of the blissfully unaware little girl fell to me. Luckily, she had taken a liking for me as well, sticking to my side and mimicking my every action with a silly grin. I hadn’t done much, save for playing with her and sharing my toys and snacks, but we were still close. But it changed when we found out our dad’s weren’t coming home.

Maki was always around me, watching, learning, trying to (and successfully) mimicking what I had managed to pick up from my dad about survival. Soon, I was the one who made sure she used the toilet properly, was eating as much as she could, studying, and doing all the other healthy activities of  a kid her age. But after the first couple months of our 'diet', Maki began complaining about going to bed with a grumbling tummy, and with winter coming full-speed, I decided I needed to do something. Asking our mothers (or even uncle) for money was out of the question and so was begging. I would never stoop that low, but what about the next rung above it?

Stealing from people’s pockets or better known as pick pocketing had become my habit, a secret from my mother as well. At first, it was enough to feed us both, but with the hiking prices, we were lucky to get a measly stick of Pocky. I had no choice but to resort to the lowest of the lowest. Plain stealing. Why we chose the bakery, I will never understand. We should have picked something more filling, but maybe all this sugar would fatten us up and keep us warm for winter.

We should have picked something our families could have eaten too, but it all happened too fast. The blocky man covered in flour was on his way back from the bathroom, positive we were just innocent elementary students ready to spend our parent’s money on his delicious goods. There was only enough time to grab what I knew Maki and I could eat and dart out of the door and find a hiding spot.

It’s a Robin Hood-esque theme. Stealing from the rich and giving it to the poor, and we're the poor.

“We steal to survive, alright? Only when we absolutely need to.” I stick out my pinky and put on my most serious expression, hoping she won’t take this lightly. We can’t do this without control. We need a creed.

Our pinkies lock, swollen and a chilling shade of pink. The rules of Robin Hood and Little John.

------------

“Momma, I’m- oh! Hi, mommy. What are you doing on the floor? Mommy?” my heart flutters, yet hammers in my chest at the same time. I’m confused. I’m scared and have no clue what’s going on.

I start to hyper ventilate, scuffling through piles of broken glass and wood while shivering violently. What is this? I want to know. I’m afraid.

The house is laced with dangerous silence, threatening to strangle if one dared to break it, and I suddenly lose my voice. Cautiously, I stand at my mother’s side,
currently passed out on the living room floor in her prettiest dress, stained with brown splotches. It smells. There’s blood.

“M-mo…” It’s all I can manage to get out, crumbling to my knees and shaking my mother. She needs to wake up, right now. She can’t play jokes like this on me! She knows I hate these kinds of surprises, unlike the surprises of yakiniku for dinner. But at the same time, I don’t think my dear mommy is joking. I press a shaking hand against her cheek—so cold it feels hot. She looks pale and even unconscious, she also looked pained. Mother wasn’t joking, but I wanted her to be.
As gross as it sounded, I wanted her to blink open her caramel eyes and tell me it was a joke; the brown stuff and blood on the carpet and her pretty dress was just icing that she had cleverly mixed with disgusting, stinky tofu. Then she would shoo me back to Maki’s so I could gather the Goto family and bring them back here to celebrate. Celebrate because mother actually got a job, since that was why she was dressed so nicely. Maybe we would talk about how well my grades were—perfect marks—and how Maki was slowly bringing her scores up thanks to me. Yes, we would celebrate everything. Even the small things. We would celebrate our lives.

But no, mother wasn’t getting up. Groans of pain rumbled in her throat, followed by twitching as she swatted me away and curled into herself. Blood smeared the floor like paint, thick, warm, disgusting and I wanted to get sick. I wanted to cry and throw a tantrum. I hated being sad and scared. I always kept my attitude giggly and happy, but now…

I felt sick. I was confused and scared; I was scared because I didn’t understand. I tried to wrap my developing brain around everything, but as a result, only made things worse. I started to cry, whimpering and miserably shaking my mother, still unaware I was by her side. This was cruel. I had learned that word a couple weeks ago, trying to replace the word ‘mean’ in my vocabulary. This was the perfect time to use it.

This was cruel for many reasons. The number one supporting detail to my conclusion was that I had been through a lot today. I was guilty. I felt bad. This was too much at a time. I thought my brain was melting. Maybe this was payback for stealing so much. I knew we shouldn’t have taken all of those cookies, they were unnecessary. I got greedy. But maybe, this wasn’t the number one reason. I understood why I was so afraid.

Tora.

My little, soon-to-be baby brother, just seven months along. It was taking forever for him to get here. If I was scared, I was sure he was. I was already feeling protective of him, possibly more than my own mother, and I hoped he was alright in there. I didn’t know what that brown stuff was, but I was sure that the other liquid was blood. Blood was never a good sign.

My wailing increased and a tiny part of me wished someone would hear me and help us. The other part wanted to handle the problem on my own, to prove to my mother I was handling the growing responsibilities handed to me. I sniffled and blinked tears from my eyes, timidly uncurling my mother from her fetal position, bunching up the brow stained ruffles of her yellow dress. I started to grow nauseous, but I pushed on. There wasn’t time to be weak. Tora and Mother needed me.

What was I looking at?

I saw something covered in blood with a rope like object wrapped around a barely distinguishable neck. It was tiny, but big at the same time. It was a baby.

It was Tora.

Well, goody, I get him two months early. I should be thrilled, and I was rightfully on my way to happy land, but an undeniable fact pushed its way to the surface. Tora, although a healthy shade of pink in the places that had no blood, was not crying. He wasn’t moving either. This wasn’t right. Babies are supposed to cry and be loud, and even if they aren’t crying, they should be moving.

But, Tora, he was still.

"Miki?"

Offline kuro808

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the ending was pretty haunting and I guess when she felt the weight without the sound, it had to be deafening
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