Similar Indeed (Seto Kaiba)

Chapter 16-Business Only, Right?

''She had made herself a new friend, or rather two. 

But life had other plans for her.''

She didn't want to leave Mokuba yet. She felt a string tugging her heart and begging her to stay by his side tonight. Something; call it instinct or call it a connection, made her know that she had to stay tonight.

So, when she made herself comfortable on her small chair-couch, she brought her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly to protect herself from the cool air of the room. She closed her eyes and threw her head back to breath while focusing only on the present.

Suddenly, a sound; a melody; a story wished to come out of her heart. It slipped past her lips, barely giving her enough time to understand what was happening.

''Écoutez-moi, Moi, la chanteuse à demi.

Parlez de moi, À vos amours, à vos amis.

Parlez-leur de cette fille aux yeux noirs et de son rêve fou.

Moi c'que j'veux, c'est écrire des histoires qui arrivent jusqu'à vous.

C'est tout.''

Her voice, calm and neutral, shows a small tremor of emotions hidden deep. Tears ran down her cheeks as she saw the flashbacks in her mind.

It had been barely two hours since she had been up and Y/n had already been touched by more than three men. She could feel their hands on her. The icy feeling of their touch on the places of her they had officially marked as used.

She was hating the feeling of her own skin. She wanted to escape, she didn't feel like herself. The real Y/n, she had left her on that poor island. The real Y/n, the one who was scared of the world, the one who had high hopes for the world and her life.

She was only now seeing the truth of life; it was all a great, big lie. The world would always punish people like her and S/n. They were poor, unwanted and looked down upon. She was a human being! Not some type of animal! Not a slave! She was simply HUMAN, that made her imperfect.

And the thought of having someone see her imperfections, the way her body looked, how she responded, involuntarily on some actions man threw in her direction. The way she screamed for them to stop and the way she sounded when they had finally been able to fill her up with their horrible white liquid.

She hated the way her voice cracked, how the fight left her after the third man only. She hated how weak she was. Believed she would never be able to protect her sister against the harshness of the world. But especially, she wasn't the warrior Rachel thought she saw in her, yesterday night.

When she walked back to her shared cell, washed and in her tattered clothes, Rachel had immediately brought her in a tight hug. S/n, along with all the other kids were on the main desk of the boat, washing and cooking for the men on the boat.

So Rachel, who was probably waiting for her turn to get brought up and used in the same she had just been, smiled at her, caressed her hair and sang to her.

It was the first song she had heard. Rachel's voice, at that time, matched that of a mother. The mother she wished to become when her child, hidden from those men, would come to this world. It had covered Y/n with warmth. And when the sun set, she had asked Rachel to sing it again, so that all the children with them would feel the joy and safety they deserved but never got.