Chapter Text
Nishimura Riki.
A new school.
19.
Thats all he let anyone know.
Riki moved again. A new college, new scars, new identity. Only two of those would he let become public information to the blood hungry vultures out there, waiting and praying and lurking. They were hungry again, ready for a feast while he begged for scraps and hid in a rotation of dorm rooms of his only friends. He hated himself, wanted to dig his uncut nails deep into his flesh and rip away until he was bruised bones and blood on the floor. Not breathing, not moving, not present to the emotional torture and the physical abuse he endured from his foster parents.
Monsters. Worse. Riki didn't know. Did he even want to think about it? Those 17 years were the worst of his life, his sisters could agree, they did agree. But he didn't know if they took it the right way. These sisters weren't his biological ones somewhere in the city, they were foster children too. His two blood related sisters had fought to take him with them, crying and thrashing in the steel strong grip of sibling bonds, but they failed. Got shipped away to some fancy people who only wanted pretty girls to exploit in the red light districts while he was stuck, in the outskirts of town, standing over the blood soaked bodies of his dead foster siblings.
Riki was only 13 when it happened, hearing a loud crash from the kitchen. He expected it to be one of his 'father's' alcohol induced rages where he would have to hide in small places to avoid the multiple cigarette burns hed have to endure if he was found. The malnourishment and sheer desperation pushing him to find places where he could tuck himself into with his hand over his mouth and beads of sweat dripping down and onto the dirty and unpolished floor.
What he didnt expect to see when he cautiously peered into the kitchen was his older sister's body hanging from the ceiling, a chair now fallen over onto the hardwood ground and blood pouring out of large gashes in her wrists. Riki froze. Time seemed to freeze. The crimson liquid dripping in menacing rivets down the thin flesh of her arms and causing this disgusting dripping sound that could be described as failure to fight.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
Unshed tears were forming. This was the girl that snuck out and stole from markets to feed him, who shielded him from his fathers abuse and his mothers absence. This was the girl who had multiple bruises and swelling whirlpools of reds, yellows and purples blooming on her skin just to see Riki survive another day. This was the girl who had just killed herself with his fathers belt, the one he used when he was especially angry - studs breaking skin and leaving bloody potholes all over their bodies.
He didnt have time to scream because next to the chair was another body. His younger sister's lively face now twisted in agony forever, neck bruising where it had been repeatedly stomped on by his father a couple days ago when she was crying to loudly. "Shut the fuck up or i'll fucking murder you and your filthy family infront of everyone." His father had said those exact words as the sharp edge of his boot bashed into her jaw, blood splashing out and splattering all over the dull white walls. It was the same scene again, this time, he could assume what happened without having heard it. The little girl, only aged 9 years was murdered in that kitched, a long gash spilling out from the neck. He knew it was his father, who else would it be? The girl was curious, lively, too young to die along with her older sister who was only 15. Riki cursed himself for not being able to protect them, in a way, he was selfish and they were selfish. He was selfish for thinking about what he could have done different to keep them alive while they were selfish for leaving their miserable lives and leaving him to fend for himself alone. Again. They were cowards, scared to face the monster of a man who had taken 3 children with pure souls at the orphanage. They kicked out kids over the age of 8 years old. Eight fucking years old. Before they even reached the double digits, before they even started middle school, before their real parents passed away. It was all a sick joke.
He crept towards the two girls he had once deemed a sanctuary, the only lights in his dull world of hiding and slicing his skin with anything he could find nearby, preparing himself for the next brutal attack that would somehow hurt a million times more because it was coming from someone he trusted. He thought the two adults were his loving family, escape even when he had been handed at the age of 8 to the two devils that had caused the deaths of two young girls. But no, they were just a sick way to pull money from. He shouldve fucking known.
It had now been six years since he had decided to look into that kitchen were two flowers had wilted away and rotted. The keeper forgetting to water them with the love and care they deserved while drowning them in pesticides and toxins. It made Riki physically sick to his stomach, involuntarily pulling his frayed hoodie sleeves down his arms to cover his fading scars. The abuse hurt but not more that the result did. Riki was fucked up, pale, severely underweight, scarred physically and mentally for life. The date had pulled something in his chest, the seventh anniversary of the suicides of the two most important people in his life that he was now going to visit at the old house.
The house was small, white, smelled of bleach and screaming until voices cracked with helplessness and a whole new world of pain was two seconds and thin, bony arms protecting skin on ribs and bones protected by only the thin organ stretched tight over the feeble structures. The flowers he had brought from the nearby convenience store already withering away in the harsh wind. This was his last day in this shitty city, the last day hed be the little boy whos sisters killed themselves and left him, the last day hed let this hell house follow him around like a curse. He wanted freedom, the nostalgia of playing with the kids in the orphanage for his few happy years erased forever, not resurfacing as bile or thick saliva that suffocated him from the inside out when he saw a family. He shoved his hand into his pocket, the thin silver chain his older sister had copped from their mothers stash for his 13th birthday a grounding weight, a .
"Riki-kun.. Look what i got you." She said, hands with no flesh on them holding the necklace with a safety pin on it. Ironic. His mother had stolen it from one of many, many men she had slept with while their father kicked the skin off their frail bodies. He cried when he received it but now it was a bittersweet memory of the care she once gave him.
He let go of the necklace and turned to road, the wheels of his grey, beaten up suitcase was loud against gravel pavement. Jake was supposed to pick him up and take him to the airport.
The car pulled up, Jakes familiar smiley face in the window as he unlocked the door and helped Riki's luggage into the back with a sympathetic look.
"You sure you wanna do this?" Jake's voice was sincere, asking with concern no one had ever shown him before.
He met Jake at the shitty cafe they both worked at, Jake was the sweet, charming waiter while Riki avoided shifts in the storage closet and listened to music instead of making coffees and plastering the customer service smile. Safe to say, Riki hated him at first. The smile seemed too sugary in a world filled with sourness, taking over the tooth and decaying the layers of carefully built armour shielding him from the cruelty of the world. But even through all the trauma, and all the pain, maybe Riki just wanted a friend. A connection alike the one he had with his biological sisters before they got taken away, and alike the one he had with his foster sisters, where they related through the constant vicious attacks raining down every night when their father drank too much. The deaths weighed down on his emotions, a constant state of sadness coursing through his veins.
"Im sure, i swear." His answer came flat as he got into the car, the engine rumbling as Jake nodded and started driving.
He and Jake became friends over time, their friendship starting when Riki had worn the safety pin around his neck while making overpriced coffee. It glinted in reflection of the coffee machine, Jake's large puppy eyes catching onto it.
"Nice necklace." He'd dropped as he walked past.
"Thanks."
He'd left it at that, but later in the staff room his usual carefree demeanour changed.
"You ok?"
That was the first time anyone had asked him if he was ok. Sure he was fine now, he was 19 and living with Jake after his parents got arrested for prostitution, drug abuse and child abuse and his father got shanked in prison while his mother got strangle to death by one of the hundreds of men she slept with for cash. The police had hunted him down and reported the news but Riki wasnt sure if he was happy or not. The news of both his foster parents dying by murder was satisfying, but the pain they had endured was nothing near what the had deserved.
But back when he was 17, he hadnt known yet, and Jake was infront of him, eyes holding what could only be described as true concern.
Jake's rental car was now pulling into the airport's carpark and the two men got out, each hauling their own suitcases as they walked into the building, air conditioning smacking them in the face as they made their way to check in.
This was it.
His escape to college that was now waiting for him.
And he didn't know it yet but his friends for life and the boy that changed everything.