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    He shivered in the cold, alone in the alley. Closing his eyes he could still feel the flames reaching up for the sky, the smoke filling his lungs and suffocating him. A tear slipped down his cheek as he remembered how he had almost died. But he was still dying.

    Mom....dad....Cari....Leven.....why did you have to die? Why couldn't you have escaped like I did? Sometimes I wish I had just fell asleep in that smoke filled room....

    He took a deep breath, drawing his thin shirt closer to his body and bringing his knees to his chest. I want this to all be a dream....maybe if I count to ten, then open my eyes, I'll be home with everyone again....and it'll all be fine again.

    "Ten." I want to be in my room again. "Nine." I want to see my sister. "Eight." I want to see my brother. "Seven."  I want to see my mom and dad. "Six." I don't want to be cold anymore.

    "Five." I don't want to be hungry. "Four." I just want to be back in my old house. "Three." With everything. "Two." And everyone. "One."

    His black eyes flickered open, but all he saw was darkness. Drawing himself into a ball, he finally gave in and cried.

    He lay silently in his bed, the covers drawn to his chin. He was listening. Listening to them fight again, as they so often did now. In the next bed his sister was deeply asleep, but he was wide awake, wondering why they had to fight like this, and why he had to hear it.

    His blue eyes wouldn't close until there was silence, and that seemed so far off now.... The intensity of the voices frightened him, and he hoped they wouldn't hurt one another. Why? Why can't they just let me sleep?

    "Dammit!" He heard a loud banging sound and felt himself start to shake. "What do you want to do about it, huh? Fuck! Fuck you!"

    Finally he shut his eyes, but only to try and stop the tears. He tried to choke them back, but they forced a path down his pale, thin cheeks, and he sobbed quietly.

    Gradually the voices faded away, saving words for another night he knew would come. Still trembling, he pulled the blanket over his head and shut his eyes, trying to block out everything he had just heard.

    He dreamt of pleasant things, of normal, simple things the day shut out. It was the only part of the day when he felt like smiling.

    "I just want to know if everything will be okay. I don't wanna ever hear that ever again...."

    "You won't. Everything will stop. Everything will go back to being peaceful and quiet, just like it was. Everything...."

    He spoke to his father on the PHS, a smile spread wide across his young face. "You'll come visit me, dad?"

    "Of course."

    "Promise?"

    "...yes. I promise. I'll see you tomorrow."

    He waited for his father. He waited and waited and waited as the hours faded away and a promise became useless. H waited, head in his hands, tears in his eyes, hoping this time it wasn't just another lie. Hoping this time was different. That his father would really show up. That there would be no more excuses.

    "I'm sorry," his teacher apologized, sitting down besides him, "your father can't make it today."

    He turned his head, tears in his eyes, a smile on his face. He could pretend too. He could pretend he was fine, just like *he* could pretend he was coming. "It's all right."

    "Of course it is," was the answer. "You father's just busy. He'll come see you as soon as he's able."

    No he won't. He never has come to see me. Why must I be the only kid whose father never comes to visit them? He was sobbing inside, but on the outside he put on a smile.

    That night, alone in his room at boarding school, he let out everything he had been holding back. He collapsed on his bed, crying loud enough to wake the dead, wondering why he wasn't wanted. No one came.

    At school he smiled and acted like normal, even thought he was screaming inside, begging someone, anyone, to love him.

    "Did your father come? You told me he was."

    "No. He was busy."

    "Oh. I'm....sorry."

    He kept on smiling like he was being paid to. "No. It's okay. He'll come." Walking away, he wondered who he was lying to more, himself, or everyone else.

    He laughed the loudest at every joke, trying to laugh away the pain. If I ignore it, it won't hurt as much.

    Some people commented on how he was acting. "You're in a good mood today", or "why you so happy?" they said. He just smiled and told them everything was wonderful.

    "Have a nice afternoon," the teacher said as the last bell of the day rang.

    He just sat in his seat, staring straight ahead as everyone around him jumped out of their seats, excited about their afternoons. Don't make me go back to my room. I don't want to be by myself anymore....but he just won't come...

    He slammed the door shut, a hand pressed against his stomach. He could feel the blood soaking through his shirt and he began to hyperventilate. It never had been this bad before. He closed his eyes, wishing away he dizzy feeling in his head.

    Behind the door he could hear him pounding, demanding to be let inside. No....I'd rather die... Ignoring the chaos behind the door and the lightheaded feeling sweeping over him, he focused on a new world, on a new life, where no one could ever, *ever* hurt him ever again. Such a pleasant thought.... He smiled.

    "Let me in there!" he demanded from behind the door. "Everything will be fine."

    Everything will *not* be fine as long as you're taking care of me.....

    "Let me in now!"

    "No!" he called back.

    The adult called his name in anger, pushing hard upon the door.

    "No...." he slipped into unconsciousness and crumpled to the floor.

    He woke slowly, surprised to find himself in his own room. Stripped to the waist there was a bandage where the blood had been earlier. He could remember it running over his fingers....

    "You've lost blood," explained the one who had done this to him. "You could have died, you silly child. Why didn't you let me in?"

     Green eyes narrowed. "Don't hurt me anymore."

    The old man sighed. "It was an accident. I'll never hurt you like that again. I promise."

    I don't believe you....I'll never believe you. Not anymore. I won't fall for that anymore. I'm not stupid.

    "I said I promise."

    He grunted in reply.

    "It will be fine."

    Still no coherent answer.

    There was a knock on the door, and the old man jumped. He answered it. "What?"

    "Where is he? What did you do to him?

    "You stay out. It was an accident."

    "Oh? Was it?"

    The old man growled, pushing past the visitor and leaving the room.

    The visitor stepped inside and looked at him. "How are you?"

    Green eyes met familiar crimson ones. "It hurts."

    "You'll heal fast..." the older man muttered, suddenly looking away from the boy.

    Green eyes squinted in concern. "You all right?"

    The older man turned away, but not before shedding a few tears. Waving a hand he said, "fine. I'm fine."

    What is he hiding? Why won't they just tell me I'm different?

    I'm so cold and scared....

    Why can't they fight when I'm not there?

    Why won't he come visit me?

Why don't they just tell me? What are they hiding? It hurts more than this cut...

    His teacher told him, "he's just very busy. when you're older you'll understand."

    As he was alone in his room, crying a river of tears, that was something he didn't want to understand. He just wanted a father who gave a damn.

    His father left not long after.

    "We couldn't stay together," his mother told him.

    As he was alone in his room, thinking about how he would never see his father ever again, that was something he didn't want to hear. He just wanted his family to stay together.

    "He says it might scar."

    He closed his green eyes, shutting out the crimson eyed man. "Oh."

    "Perhaps you'd like some visitors.....?" he suggested.

    "No," he replied firmly. "Leave me alone."

    He picked himself up, moving out of the alley, hugging himself for warmth. Where to now? A new chapter? How long would this one last? All he wanted was to be home, in his own bed, like he was not so long ago....

    He heard Vincent leave, and only then did Sephiroth reopen his eyes. I hate Hojo, yes, but sometimes I even hate you, Vincent. Why won't you tell me why I'm different? Why won't you tell me why I didn't die today?

I hate my father, Rufus thought bitterly, wiping away his last tears. Just like he hates me. I can hate too. You taught me how, father. By not coming. By never coming.

The fights were in the past, but as Reno lay in bed the next night he wondered why he couldn't have a real family anymore, and he wouldn't mind one more fight...just if it kept them all together.

The streets were deserted, and Tseng wondered how late it was. Hungry and chilled right down to the bone, he stood in the center of the road, wondering why, just why, he had pulled out of those flames, only to fall into this.