Lullaby

The evening is quiet, full of tension. HE has returned once again from his tropical paradise to bring fear into our hearts. I wonder if my face is as full of anxiety as is hers and I wonder if she feels as I do like nothing more than a fly trapped in the tangled silken web of a spider, helpless before those spinning hands, knowing that, shortly, one will be penetrated and left drained.

She is more fragile now than she was before; the suicide attempts have ended but for how long, no one knows now that he is back. I wonder, if I hear him outside her door, will I have the strength of will it takes to stop him? Certes, I am, at eighteen, a man full grown and not the child who bent, weeping, to his father's will after the tragedy of mother's death but old habits are strong with determents, fears that keep me from speaking. The stones in this old house, the very walls, should shriek with the evil they contain when he is here.

I am certain that none of us has had the time to drug Father's food this night, e'en Kodachi. Her look of terror and regret tell me that she has not had the time to drug her own food, either; thus tonight will be truly terrible, not only for one of us, but both.

"Father!"

Tatewaki could hear the sound of his father in Kodachi's room and he wondered what he was doing there and why he was still awake at this awkward hour. It was too late, too late to be waking Kodachi for she had gymnastics competition in the morning. Tatewaki frowned deeply and threw back the covers as if to go and remind his father that it was important that she get her sleep.

It was the noises that stopped him - the half-mad cackle of his father and the sudden frightened weeping of Kodachi as she almost shouted, "Father, Father, STOP! Stop, Father, it hurts, stop!"

Chills and nausea spread through him, his twelve year old frame wracked with terror and sickness. Ye gods, Father couldn't... wouldn't... do something to hurt her, would he? Amidst the hollow, grating sobs he heard through the thin walls, he slid back back the door and moved stealthily down the hall, bare feet making no sound as he moved nearer her door. It was still cracked open and he peered inside.

It was a wonder he didn't puke.

Father held Kodachi's hips in his hands and she was on her knees, struggling, tears streaming down her face as he raped her, slow and thorough. Tatewaki moved away from the door, panting in terror and sickness. He knew there would be no helping Kodachi now. He was not big enough to hurt Father, to make him move away, to make him stop... torturing her. Calling Sasuke would be little help, either, and the sickness inside him expanded. He knew he was going to be ill.

And he was when Father came to his room the very next night.

It is late; surely it is too late for the old man to come to one of us and yet I can feel the bile rising in my throat as I hear the echoing sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor outside our rooms. I know that when he opens the door to either her room or mine, I will not be able to stop him for I can feel the terror spreading down my limbs. At eighteen, it has been six years since it began and still I have not the strength to stop him. My voice cracks as it is my door that he slides open. "F..Father?"

He responds with the wild yellow gleam in his eye alone, hands like claws as he moves towards my futon. He pulls the sheet and light blanket back and I know I am revealed in the light spilling through the cracked door from the hallway and across my body. The tension is thicker than it has ever been for I have never entertained the thoughts of rebellion which run through me now. It has been long since I have endured this without Kodachi's drugs to comfort me.

His hands are on me and they hurt, they degrade, twisting at nipples and forcing me back against my pillow as his hands delve to shove away my underwear and grasp at my cock roughly, hurtfully. I cannot help but cry out and feel the prick of tears behind my eyes, making them ache. Thoughts of Tendo Akane or the pig-tailed goddess will make no difference tonight. I can feel the nausea filling me as he gropes my body and I make no effort to stop him. As I am turned and my face is pushed into the pillows, I can feel the heavy penetration of his body with no preparation and can no longer hold back the sobs. They are effortless, the sounds ripped from deep in my chest and they are impossible to hold back.

My tears have drenched the pillow in this way for so many years. I can feel his mouth on the back of my neck, biting roughly, and I know that I will not be able to go to school tomorrow; and perhaps not the day after that, for the bruises are slow to fade. These cannot be excused as marks from a fight for the imprint of his teeth will be clear at my hairline tomorrow. I am deeply afraid that someone will know my shame, Kodachi's shame; that thet will know and abhor us for this thing which we cannot help. A particularly vicious thrust seems to drive too far inside of me and I cannot keep back the strangled yelp and the sudden clenching of my body as it hurts unbelievably deep, dragging the breathless choking sobs back up from somewhere inside of me, making my gut hurt with the strength of them. There is too much agony in the renewal of his rape after such a long time gone and I cannot relax without the drugs this night.

Gods, why can someone not kill me, kill us both, and release us from the whims of this madman? Is there never to be any release for tortured creatures such as we?

The only answer is the quickened thrusting of his body and the wet panting of his breath in my ear.

Gods, how I hate him!!

The sound of shattering glass as he lays asleep atop me and the sudden tinkling shower I feel in my hair surprises me, enough so that I jerk my head and feel my cheek cut by one of the sharp little shards nearby. "Uh!"

Her eyes are dark, a deep dark grey that I have never seen in them before. "Is he dead? Did I kill him?" The expression on her face is ferocious and yet at the same time it is filled with unutterable horror and loathing at this thing she has done.

I shove him to the side and feel his limp cock slide out of me -- a relief. "Let me check."

The old man's pulse is steady but from the size of the lump on his head, he will be unconscious for a long time. "The old bastard lives yet, Kodachi." I speak softly, soothingly, for she is all atremble and my heart aches for her as those luminescent grey eyes fill with tears. It is a simple thing to kneel up and bring her mouth to mine, to kiss her gently and watch the surprise in them overtake the more horrible emotions that have flooded her this evening. "He is alive," I whisper up into her face as she looks at me uncertainly.

"Tatewaki..." she whispers softly, face twisting once again. "He will not stop!"

I gently place my finger against her mouth and smile at her, strangely gentle, I would think, considering my intents for the evening. It takes only seconds to begin pulling on clothing as I watch the old man closely. "Be still, Beloved One, my Sister Dear. Keep still and return you to bed." Once I am dressed, it is easy to lean down and capture her mouth with my own, somehow, easier than it has ever been with Akane or the pig-tailed girl. There is a certain joy innate in the sweet softness of her mouth that is in direct proportions to the evil that has exuded from the unconscious man nearby who has tortured us both.

"Do not worry, my sweet. All will be taken care of if you will only take yourself to bed and do not worry. Do not worry." It is a mantra, for if she will not than neither will I.

Her acquiescence would seem out of character to most, but not to me. Never to me. "Yes, Tatewaki. You will be... careful?"

"Most careful, Sister Mine."

As she leaves, I glance down at the thing that has tortured us for so long with its spidery touch and its wicked tortures. It is not so far to the river, after all, and morning comes soon. I cannot help but give a bleak smile as I gently slip the sheathed tanto into the waist of the soft black jogging pants and tug the dark sweatshirt over it. He is heavy and it will be difficult to hoist his unconscious weight up and tote it along. Perhaps I will need a wheelbarrow. I whistle as I begin dragging him out of my room and down the hall, allowing his head to thump steadily against the floor as I drag him up and down stairs on my way out of the house.

Tomorrow will be a beautiful morning.