A/N: Yay, I'm back with a new fanfic to show the world just how fucked up my mind is. Sorry it took me so long to come back with another story but I had to send my laptop to get fixed and then I had to figure out how in the world to edit this story so I wouldn't get in trouble. Oh well. I guess good things come to those who wait and a whole bunch of other trite clichés.

I wish I could remember how the hell I got this idea stuck in my head so that I wouldn't seem like a complete sadist but, alas, I can't remember. All I know is that I had an idea to write a fic with each chapter being titled/themed after the lines of a prayer and I also wanted to give a little more attention to Hisoka's horrific childhood and…stuff. But then again, maybe I am just an evil, sick, sadistic bastard who enjoys doing mean things to a helpless empath who's younger than me and the prayer was just convenient.

Next, I want to thank my best friend Beth for attempting to edit this fic despite having never watched YnM and thus didn't want to read this. Thanks Beth, you're a sweetheart (despite sucking at editing and not notice my grammar errors); I still love you.

But anyway, on with the WARNINGS (so please, please read). This fic is…ummm…yeah. I can't really think of a good way to describe it other than saying it's dark, sick, twisted, fucked up and I'm just plain ol' evil. So, if you have any problems with rape, child abuse, incestuous rape, and any other bad things that I decide to do to Hisoka in later chapters, don't read this fic. It isn't explicit but it's just...not something young children should read. This is rated M for a reason (even though it should be NC-17 and I may get in trouble with FF.N) so no flames or hate emails from pissed off people who feel offended.

This story is written in Hisoka's POV because I write a whole lot better in first person. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yami no Matsuei or else I would have been damned if I'd let it be so horribly dubbed. That and I would have had a Tsuzuki/Hisoka sex scene somewhere in the series just for shits and giggles. Now on with the story.

Chapter One: Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

The silver light from the moon barely filters in through the bars of the window of my dark, dank cell. Small slivers of light lay on the ground in front of me, acting as the only illumination during the night. The soft sound of the wind blowing through the trees and grass – rustling the foliage – can be heard, even if the sound is somewhat muted. It's as if Mother Nature is trying to sing me a lullaby only to be shut out by the concrete walls that surround me.

All is motionless and quiet in the large traditional home that I dwell in, even if my world is limited to a small caged cellar. All the servants who live here and take care of my family are asleep; tucked away safe and warm in their futons while beautiful dreams fill their vision. Me, I'm huddled in a corner without sheets or pillows, out of the path of the soft glow of the moon that lulls the rest of the world to sleep.

Sleep. That's something I would love to enjoy now; the peace and calm of slumber that can take me away from the pain and despair that I encounter daily. However, the emotions that my parents are feeling are too strong right now and I have to concentrate with all my might to keep their anger from driving me mad. I've always been cursed with the ability to sense the emotions and feelings of others no matter how much it torments me.

I have always been able to feel my parents above everyone else, to the point where I can sometimes faintly hear their thoughts. This is especially true for my mother, and for that she hates me. She calls me a demon, a monster, an abomination, something that could not have been born from her womb. I don't think anything else in the world can hurt more than knowing and feeling how much your own mother hates you. The woman that gave me life, fed me from her bosom, and cradled me to sleep when I was younger now wishes I were dead or never born.

And this is why I can feel her and my father's emotions right now – they're arguing because of me. My mother is angry at my father for his "vile seed" causing her to give birth to a monster and she refuses to let him near her. In fact, their marriage has been cold and rocky since my powers were first discovered but as they matured, their fights only increased and worsened. It was so bad that father even began to have an affair with one of the servants. According to all the women who work here, my father is just too charismatic and handsome to turn down. Whatever. It's not like I have or will ever look at the man whom I received half of my genes from the same way they will. But I do feel sorry for the servant who my father cheated with; after mother found out… Well, let's just say that my mother is not someone you want to piss off.

After what seems like an eternity, I begin to feel some of my parents' emotions quiet down so I can only assume that they finally stopped arguing. Either that or mother has just kicked father out of her room (that right; they don't even stay in the same room anymore) or he left on his own volition. Despite this, I can still feel my mother's anger, but the flames of her hatred – although still burning strong – have died some. It's quieted enough to make me sigh and no longer hear her thoughts. The only thing I feel from that woman is her rage towards me and the man she married and once loved.

However, this feeling of peace and serenity is short lived as fear and terror now grip me as I can feel emotions overpower the ones my mother are feeling. That can mean one of two things; either my mother is leaving out of the house or someone else is getting closer to me. Since I doubt that my mother would leave at this time of night (even though I have no idea what time it could be; I just know that it's late enough for everyone else in the house to be asleep). So that must mean someone is coming to my cell.

It's a few seconds before I can attach a face to the emotions I am feeling and I almost gasp when I realize that it's my father who's coming for a late night visit. He's no longer angry (which is a good thing) but instead he feels something else; something stronger. It isn't long before I can place that emotion and I can finally understand why he's coming down to see me. I can do nothing now but close my eyes and hope and pray that he will think I'm asleep and let me stay that way.

My heart nearly stops when I can finally hear the soft sound of his feet walking down the hall, a gentle whisper that promises not so gentle actions. After what seems like an eternity my father stops to stand in front of my cell bars and I can hear the jingling of the keys as he begins to unlock the door. It takes all of my willpower to not start crying and beg my father to please leave me alone and let me rest peacefully.

"Hisoka, I know you're not sleeping." My father's voice is devoid of any emotion that one would normally show their child. Instead, he sounds like a corrupt prison guard abusing his power over the inmates whom he watches over. His voice is cold, heartless and sadistic and I know that tomorrow my entire body will be sore.

I turn my head so that I am now facing him and I fail at the task of not crying. Hot streams of tears roll down the side of my face as I stare at the man before me in his eyes. He seems completely unaffected by my emotions and tears as if I am nothing more than an inconvenience that should be punished for being such.

He motions for me to come to him and I know better than to disobey any of his orders despite the fact that every fiber of my being is begging for me to run away from the man before me. Although I am complying with his command, I walk as slowly as I can towards him, my head down as I try to mentally prepare myself for what is going to happen tonight.

It isn't long before my maddeningly slow walk comes to an end and I come to a stop to stand about a foot away from my father; my head still down and the tears never cease their journey down my face. He lifts my head up so that I am now staring him in his eyes. His emerald eyes – the exact same color as mine – are the only thing I try to focus on as he moves his hand to the side of my face to wipe the tears from my eyes. I know better than to think of this action as fatherly because all of his intentions are anything but.

My father moves his hand from my face down to my shoulders and he nudges me to fall to my knees. I close my eyes, while kneeling perfectly still and await the inevitable as I hear a chair being moves across the hard cement floor before it comes to rest before me.

"Open your eyes Hisoka," I hear my father say after a few moments of deafening silence. He's speaking in a tone that should never be directed towards a child, especially one's own. He speaks to me as if I am not his son, not of his own flesh, and his emotions are no better; it seems as if everything I feel from him is anything but paternal.

I know I should be doing as I'm told but I know what awaits me when I do open my now puffy eyes. I am not surprised, but instead frightened, when I do open my eyes to the scene before me. My father is sitting before me, his legs spread open so that my face is less than a foot from his crotch. His pale yukata is spread open and his cherry red erection seems to be staring at me, begging for some attention. I look up at my father, my teary eyes and frightened expression pleading for him to not do this too me. It's not like this is the first time, and it will probably not be the last, but that can't stop me from wishing for an impossible dream.

Father only responds to me silent pleas by moving his right hand to the back of my head to force it to its target. There isn't too much pressure fearing that if he does move to fast, I may retaliate while he's completely vulnerable and exposed. Despite the lack of too much force, I do slowly inch my face forward towards to the object of his arousal and my fear. Every time he comes down here I resist, but in the end I will comply. Not because I like it or because I fear the punishment (although I do), but instead, I do it because I feel as if I deserve it. Maybe I am nothing more than a monster, an abomination that should be used, abused and degraded.

It doesn't take long before the tip of his arousal is at my lips and I continue to hesitate. I hate every second of this but it's not like I have much of a choice unless I'd prefer a more forceful, painful alternative. So I open my mouth and nearly gag as the hardened organ makes its way to the back of my throat. I pull away some and my father allows me to do this action; the last thing he wants me to do is choke before I can successfully get him off.

When I can finally breathe again, I try to take more of my father's erection into my mouth. After a few seconds I feel the hand that's still on the back of my head pull me back some before moving me forward again. He sets up a slow rhythm, watching me intently as if that will deter me from attempting to bite him. Although that thought has crossed my mind several times, I'm afraid of what will happen to me afterwards. So instead, I ignore his lust-clouded eyes and throaty moans and pretend that the object in my mouth is nothing more than a popsicle or lollipop.

It's hard for me to keep up the lie inside of my head, however. I can faintly taste the salty drops of fluids that seep from the tiny slit at the tip of the head. It slowly trickles down my throat and it makes me want to pull away so I can vomit all over the floor in order to expel what I have already swallowed and prevent myself from ingesting anything else. I know that this is an impossible wish for me, judging from the throaty moans coming from my father, he won't let me move anytime soon. So there's no other option left for me but to deal with all of this.

After a few moments, the movements of his hand resting at the back my head increases. The actions are now erratic and rhythmless so I know that it won't be long before my humiliation is over. However, knowing this does nothing for the pain that my body is experiencing now. My scalp begins to hurt as his actions become less gentle and the only thing driving him is his perverted desires. I have to move my hands to rest on the inside of his thighs in order to try and keep up with the new pace that he's setting. I let out a whine from the back of my throat in response to the pain on my head; I can feel some of the hairs being torn from my scalp. However, instead of responding to my cries of pain, father only moans his pleasure and pulls on me harder.

Father's hand is pulling on my hair more feverishly, and he's beginning to thrust his hips to my already overstuffed mouth, cutting off my respiration and threatening to choke and suffocate me. But it's only a matter of seconds before my father lets out a primal moan, letting anyone who may be awake and listening know of the sins being committed in this small, dark cell. I feel his hot seed fill my mouth, overflowing and spilling down my lips and chin like spilled milk.

"Swallow it," I barely hear my father say, but even if I didn't, I know that's what he wants me to do. I have no idea how he derives any joy from making me ingest this vile substance as if it is a delicacy. If anything, I think he may do it to either get rid of some of the evidence that he's been down here or he just likes to see me suffer. Either way, it takes a few moments for me to will my throat to listen to my brain and do what is asked of me.

I swallow my father's semen, the same substance that is responsible for my existence, but this task is a little hard since father has yet to remove his rapidly softening penis from my mouth. He wants to make sure that I milk him for all that he's worth and as soon as I'm done and he's satisfied, he removes his hand from my hair and allows me to dislodge myself from his lap. I quickly move away from him and slowly begin to count to ten in my head, hoping that that will keep me from vomiting all over the floor and his feet in order to rid my body of what should have never been ingested.

I'm still kneeling on my floor with my forehead pressed against the cool concrete and I let that soothe me. I hear movement from above me but I don't bother to look up to see what the man who uses me as nothing more than a cheap whore is doing. He's probably cleaning himself off to hide anything that might seem at all suspicious; the last thing he probably wants is for one of the servants to see any stains.

I know that my assumptions are wrong when I feel his hand rub against by backside, moving my yukata up with each motion. My eyes shoot open and I whimper before I move away from his invading touch; I don't want to do anything else tonight, or any other night for that matter. I turn around to sit on the floor and look at him, my eyes full of fear and tears as he looms over me. He's angry that I pulled away from him and I shut my eyes as I see his foot begin to move towards me. In a matter of seconds I feel a sharp pain in my chest from his kick. I fall backwards and curl up into a ball, my hands rising to grab my injured flesh, my breath quickly leaving me.

Father looks down at me, anger and impatience seeping from his entire being like a cold sweat. He's angry at my defiance and impatient because I am now hyperventilating from the blow. My breaths are coming in short pants and I close my eyes to try to calm myself and allow fresh oxygen into my deprived, burning lungs. After a few more moments of my harsh, ragged breathing, I finally hear my father walking out of my cell. I crack my eyes open slightly and observe as he grabs the chair he brought in with him earlier and leaves. He says nothing to me nor does he make any attempt to make sure that I'm alright. I guess he doesn't care or he's still upset about not being able to do more to my already abused, defiled body.

It takes a few more minutes before my breathing comes out again in a slow, steady rhythm but I make no attempt to move from the spot I was knocked down to. The tears have ceased to fall from my pink, puffy eyes and I begin to think that I no longer have any more tears to shed for this evening. I shudder at the thought of what I had to experience once again tonight and I silently pray that father will not come down here again for a while, at least until my small body finally heals from the abuse of tonight and a few evenings ago. The only thing left for me to do is stay curled up in a tight ball, trying to give myself the warmth and comfort I so desperately need as I finally lay me down to sleep.

A/N: OMG, I can't believe I wrote this. I warned you all that this fic is seriously messed up and I have lived up to that. It is so wrong that I'm using the lines from such a nice lil' prayer for my own sick twisted story, but I don't think I'll be struck down by lightning anytime soon. Maybe I should just work on something less angst-y but I don't think that'll happen anytime soon. Oh well.

Anyway, please review so I know someone's reading this fic and I'm not just writing this for nothing. No flames because they will be laughed at and forwarded to my old professors from last year whom I didn't like.

I just hope I don't get in trouble for posting this fic; it's seriously inappropriate. And if this fic doesn't get removed, for everyone who remembers their bedtime prayers, you shouldn't be surprised that the next chapter is "I Pray My Lord My Soul to Keep". Bye and I hope you enjoyed this.

- KuroiShinigami07