Sweetly biting

17.

Tobirama:

The day after, I came rushing into the room as soon as visiting hours began.

Izuna's face lit up and it pained me. Despite everything, I can still cause that... I can cause him to smile.

I came to his bed with the bouquet of yellow roses I'd gotten him. He looked away and blushed.

"You shouldn't have..." His voice was barely audible, and I could see speaking caused him pain.

"Hush, darling. Indulge."

He looked up at me. "I'm indulging in your voice", he wheezed. "I can't believe it."

I smiled a crooked smile. "The doctors say it will get better with time. I wish I could give it to you. I wish I could give my voice to you."

Izuna looked angry at this. He took my face sternly into his hands, pulled it down to his, kissed me forcefully. "Don't say that", he croaked, barely a whisper. "Don't you ever say that."

I looked at him for a long, long time.

Then, I pulled a chair out and sat on it, with my front to its back, and looked at him.

I began.

I began telling him everything.

"When I was two, my mother died of breast cancer, leaving me and my brother Hashirama, who was two years older, with our father. Our mother's death changed our father, and he started abusing us, at the age of two and four."

I saw Izuna was watching me with intent, listening.

"The abuse was verbal, physical and psychological. He would tie us up for days in the basement. He would beat us up. Spit on us. He told us if we ever reported it to school, he would kill the other brother in front of the one who'd talked."

Izuna's eyes got larger and larger the more I spoke, but he kept listening, kept concentrating on what I said. I appreciated that. I appreciated that a lot.

"One day, I came to school with so many bruises, a teacher snapped it up. She was very, very good and got me to trust her, so I told her. What happened after that was maybe not the neatest. The school called my father in for a meeting with the police, and then released him back home with us. That's when he-" 

My voice cracked. Izuna reached his hand out and took mine, and I squeezed it, gathered some strength. 

"That's when he strangled Hashirama to death. In front of me. I remember his face so clearly. The desperation when he looked at me. I don't know if he was pleading for help or blaming me for telling. I will never know. I was nine. He was eleven. My father said it was my fault because I had talked and I knew what would happen if I talked. And I believed him."

I took some time to take a few breaths.

"After that, I stopped talking. It wasn't a choice; it just happened. It was as if I was physically unable to speak. I couldn't give any testimony to the police, so they had to ask me yes-or-no questions. My answers led to my father's imprisonment. He got lifetime in prison. He promised me that he would behave so well in prison, they would let him out early because he needed to punish me again, this time for speaking to the police. He said he would come out and do to the person I loved what he'd done to Hashirama. I was placed in a foster home. I never got a foster family, but moved to my university city when I turned eighteen. I found out he'd been released the day he stabbed you. That's why I tried to get hold of you. I'm untraceable, but you aren't. And if I-" Tears welled up in my eyes, fell down my cheeks. "If I'd only texted you all of this, the police would've known it was him who stabbed you, and he wouldn't come back to kill you. If I had told you that you were his target, you could've been more careful. Izuna, I'm so, so sorry! I believed it could make me speak again, forcing myself to withhold the information from you before I could say it with my own voice. I know you don't want to hear it, but I would rather be mute for the rest of my life if it meant you got your voice back."