The Truth is Unspoken
"You have the devil deep inside!"
A crooked finger pointed accusingly. It trembled, a shaking twig under the heavy weight of its sleeve. The afternoon sun gleamed off its pasty white skin, giving the finger a ghostly glow. The voiced cracked with shock and disgust. 'How dare she!' it almost screamed.
The accused almost laughed in defiance. 'How dare I?'
The accuser was an ancient woman, matted hair, chipped nails, and fragile. Very frail. She had the look of fine china; meant to be looked at, but never touched. Wrinkles caressed her face, deep as rivers embedded in earth. Her dark sunken eyes stared wide, from fear or disgust. Maybe both. The woman looked like a disaster, thin white hairs swirled around her face, hugging her sagging cheeks, deep purple bags hung under her eyes, her hair was thick with grease, and she often twitched.
She may have been beautiful once. A long time ago.
"Deviling with demons without pride!" The woman ranted. She looked crazy to the average human eyes, but she was far more. 'Hmm…so she's a psychic? From the looks of it, a psychic who doesn't understand her powers.'
A much younger woman came up behind the older woman. She had shoulder length hair with chestnut locks that had the same curls as the other woman. Her hazel eyes looked between the frail china and the woman she was yelling at.
"Grandma? Why are you bothering this nice young woman?"
"She has the devil inside!"
"Oh Dear," She said with a sigh of annoyance. She directed her attention to girl who just stood there taking her grandmothers insults. Hoping to calm the situation before it got out of hand. She almost gasped as she stared in disbelief.
She was gorgeous.
There wasn't a single pore on her face, it was as clear and smooth as satin. A pile of thick aqua hair sat in a high and tight pony tail. Soft pink eyes gazed at into her hazel ones. Her attire was that of a casual one. A hot pink jacket hung over a plain white tank top with a slightly ripped and faded blue jeans.
"I'm deeply sorry for her insults, my grandmother is not well and is always saying such things," She said, bowing deeply, clearly embarrassed that her grandmother said something so rude to…this angel. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive her."
The longer she stared at the blue haired beauty, the more inferior she felt in her presence. She couldn't possibly be from around here. There was no other explanation than she must be from out of town. No one from this city looked anything like her. She was sure that if this woman had lived in this town she would be the root of every woman's gossip and would be the sole of every man's dreams.
As she further inspected the cerulean haired woman she noticed a small yet distinct bump laying on her lower abdomen. "Your pregnant…" She said in a slight daze. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry my grandmother called your child the devil!"
She once again bowed apologetically. "I just don't know what is wrong with my grandmother! Please forgive her!"
Lilac eyes just stared at the bowing woman. No emotion crossed her face. There wasn't a look of anger or sadness, just one of a lost soul. A delicate hand went to lay its palm on the small mound of flesh. Pink eyes trailed down to the swollen abdomen.
Shaking step by step the crooked woman came forward. "That child will kill you."
"Please grandmother! Come home now! You have caused enough trouble!" In an attempt to take her grandmother away, the granddaughter grabbed the woman's upper arm. The elder wasn't having any of it, she yanked her arm free.
"You WILL die for that demon?!" she questioned angrily.
Pink orbs came to life at the question. Rage was building in the pit of her chest. Who was this woman to question her actions? She knew nothing of the world outside of her home! She didn't know how complicated her situation was! How complicated everything outside of this world was!
Many have died for far less meaningful causes. They died never contributing to this world, never leaving an imprint in the lives and memories of their fellow man. If she were to die, again, she would want to give something back to the world. Something worth remembering, something that showed what she thought of this world. If she was to give up her life, she didn't want to die for herself.
Her quiet voice whispered "…yes."
As she turned away she noticed a crowd of people gathering to watch the scene that was playing out in the middle of the sidewalk.
Murmurs and whispers from the bystanders reached her ear. "That poor girl." "I can't believe she sat there and took that from that…crazy woman!" "That woman must be insane to call that pretty girl's child a demon." "She didn't deserve that."
'Yes I did.' She almost said.
She contemplated her situation as she made her way down the street almost to the point of ignoring a red sidewalk sign and turning into a road kill victim.
'Pregnant…three months in fact.'
She had an urge to buy a pack of cigarettes, but from the advertising on TV it damages embryos.
She hung her head low, staring at her moving feet. She stuffed her pale hands into her unzipped hot pink jacket. Looking own at her clothing almost made her recoil in disgust, there was a growing hate towards her colorful clothes. They are suppose to be a representation of ones inner feelings. She didn't feel like 'hot pink' today. She felt numb...gray would have done just fine. She needed to go shopping. In a month or two her clothing wouldn't fit her anymore anyways, if she decided to keep the child.
…She didn't even have a plan! What was she suppose to do? Who was she suppose to go to? She didn't even go to the doctor to confirm the pregnancy, she bought three four dollar sticks that each told her the same answer.
You wouldn't believe the shock she felt when she found out she was with child. She went cold, numb to the point of being paralyzed. Her head felt like it became dislocated and was rolling on the floor some where in the distance. For hours she stared at all three testers hoping beyond all hope that they would change their answer. That maybe they would take pity on her and let up on their sick joke. Hope faded after the fourth hour.
Where does one even start? She had never held a newborn, never played with a child, never even talked to something so...innocent. She knew nothing about children. Other than the fact that they were drooling machines and that they cry relentlessly. Oh God, what had she gotten herself into? She wanted to cry her already dry tear ducts until they shriveled.
What would the father say?
Slender legs locked, her body froze at the question. She couldn't bare the thought of him knowing. He would…well, what ever he would do it couldn't possibly be any good. But she defiantly knew she wasn't comfortable with the idea of him knowing. A horn blared in her ear, making her stiff body jump from fright. She was ripped from her thoughts by a car that was waiting impatiently for her to complete her walk to the other side of the crosswalk. When she took her last step up the curb she was immediately thrown back into to her relentless musing.
She felt like a shattered vase, laying in a million pieces on a hard tile ground with pieces missing. Large pieces.
She hadn't been the same since he left. The problem wasn't that he laid in her bed and when she woke up he was gone, that much was expected. No, the problem was that when he had left she had a dreadful feeling that he wasn't coming back.
And to her amazing streak of luck he left something behind. She, in a spiteful way, liked to think of it as his gift to her, a departing gift.
She let out a deep, weary sighed; she was getting hormonal…already. He probably didn't even know of his offspring. He left after having his bountiful fill, not think anything of his was missed placed.
Her body made another automatic stop, this time in front of a large apartment complex. She dug deep into her jacket pocket, pulling out a set of keys. She sluggishly dragged her feet up the stairs. She wanted nothing more than to lay in her goose down sheets, and to wear her over sized midnight blue flannel pajama set. Her body shivered from anticipation.
The number of home.
She fumbled with the keys until she found the one that opened the front door. She pushed it open until it bumped into the wall that supported it. The light switch was a little harder to find it was too dark to see it properly, once she located it, the living room came to life.
She almost screamed when she noticed a being sitting on her couch. Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle any sound that may have came out. She stared wide eyed and placed a hand on her chest.
"Lord Koenma! You scared me!" She said in a gasp.
"Sorry, Botan." A young man sat in the middle of her cream colored sofa. A blue pacifier rolled in his mouth when he spoke. The letters Jr. was written in bold text on his forehead. The letters were creased on the sides from his eyebrows being knotted together in frustration. He was stiff and awkward on her soft couch. He looked unsettled.
He got up from his position on the couch and stood wearisome in front of her. He examined her features from afar and couldn't help but notice her stomach. Botan had forgotten to zip up her jacket and feared that he saw what she had so desperately tired to hide.
"We need to talk." He said looking back into her eyes.
Okay that was the first chapter! PLEASE REVIEW!