I sat on the bus, staring out the window as I pondered what I was gonna do when I got there. If someone was living in the house, I doubt that they'd let me in, especially if they knew I was looking for my dead aunt's death site. There was a chance that it wasn't being lived in, which would mean that all I'd have to do is pick the locks and step go inside. I really opened it was the second one.
The bus came to a screeching halt as the driver announced that we were at my stop. I quickly hopped off the bus and began walking through town to my mother's old home.
The city was absolutely beautiful. Instead of there being tall buildings and large groups of people everywhere, the streets were lined with places to eat and visit, and friends and family sat together in parks. It was like the whole feeling of wholesome was right in this town. The people living there even looked like they were preparing for some sort of spring festival.
Until you got to one street in particular. Nobody was outside, and, if they were, they were somewhere else in the town. Houses weren't as colorful as the rest of the town, and they didn't have any decorations, like everywhere else. The whole place seemed to give off some sort of dark energy.
The worst kind of energy seemed to come from the large, pink house at the end. It stood tall at the end of the cul-de-sac, blocking the low hanging sun from shining on everything else. I had a feeling that this was the house I was looking for.
To make sure, I quickly pulled out my phone and looked over some screenshots of the article. The house in the picture matched the house I was looking at. It didn't seem like anyone was living in it.
I walked up to the driveway, eyeing the For Sale sign hanging next to it. The red sign was hanging on one chain, the other brushing the ground, like a dead body. Shivering at the thought, I quickly made my way up to the front door, pushing it open with ease. The whole place looked like it had been abandoned for quite some time.
The inside was dark, the lights not even working when I tried to turn them on. When I opened the door, I saw a long hallway with a few cracked doors, one of them open, leading up the stairs. To my left, there was an old living room, to my right, there was a kitchen, with a doorway leading to a basement.
I made my way up the stairs, seeing a hall that lead to the kitchen next to it. The next floor was practically falling apart. There was a large hole in the ceiling, allowing me to see the floor above. I counted at least seven doors there, not including the one with the stairs. One of them was spray painted in red, the letters reading MURDER HERE. I guess I found the room I was looking for.
I slowly made my way over to it, my stomach twisting into anxious knots. A sad sort of energy came from this room, making my anxiety worse. I didn't like it, but I wanted answers, even more than I wanted to leave.
Opening the door, I peeked inside, seeing a very blue room. A dark blue bed sat in the corner, covered in a layer of dust, a bedside table next to it even more dusty. An empty shelf was next to a door that most likely led to a closet. The dark blue carpet didn't look messy, no part of the room did. It just looked sad.
"It doesn't look like someone was beaten to death here," I muttered, going over to inspect the shelf. Nothing gave me answers.
"But someone was," a sad voice said behind me. I whipped around, my fists going up to protect me.
There was a woman sitting on the bed, but she hadn't been there a minute ago. She was a meif'wa, like me, her ears clipped in some places and her tail cut in half. Her pink hair was hanging in front of her face, obscuring it from my vision. Her pale hands sat on her lap, curled in on themselves. She was wearing a blue tank top and a pair of blue leggings that were ripped in a lot of places. She didn't look good.
"Who are you?" I asked, inching closer to her. The closer I got, the more fear I felt.
"I am the girl that was beaten to death by her mother nearly 25 years ago," she said, looking up and allowing me to get a good look at her face.
Her left cheek was caved in, blood seeping from multiple holes on her face that looked like something from a ring. Her nose was facing the right and sticky, red blood coming out of her flared and ripped nostrils. Bruises dotted the rest of her face in splotches, making her look like an abstract art painting. One of her amber eyes had been popped out, exposing the red socket inside as it hung from its cord. I nearly screamed at the sight.
"So, yo-you're Yon Ishida?" I asked, averting my eyes. She tilted her head in confusion, her amber eye blinking as the other eyelid wrapped around the other's cord. My stomach did flips at the sight.
"Yes, yes I am," she said in a low voice, "And who might you be?"
"My my name is Jewel Ro'Meave," I stuttered, taking in deep breaths.
Instantly, her eye widened and she stood, coming at me at speeds that shouldn't even be possible. "Is your mother my younger sister, Nana?" she asked, grasping my arms with her bloody and broken hands. In her shock, she ended up lifting me off of my feet.
I nodded, struggling in her strong grasp. "Yes," I gasped, "My mother is Nana Ro'Meave and my father is Zane Ro'Meave,"
She dropped me, my whole body hitting the ground with a dull thud. I looked up at her and saw that her entire face portrayed no emotion as she stared at the wall behind me.
"Is she safe?" she whispered, not taking her eye off the wall.
"Yes," I shouted, standing, "She's safe and happy,"
She relaxed, a smile spreading across her broken face. In an instant, her whole face morphed. Her cheek and nose went back into position, and all the bruises went away. The half off her tail that was gone grew back, the parts of her ears that were gone coming back as well. Her eye went back into its socket, making her close them in bliss. The blood left and her clothes repaired themselves. When it was all over, a beautiful meif'wa stood in front of me, her pink hair going into a bun.
"That's all I needed to hear," she whispered, crystal tears coming from her eyes.
I smiled as she turned around and lead me out of the room and down to the first floor. She went into the kitchen and out a backdoor I hadn't seen earlier.
The yard was overgrown, vines forming on the walls of the house and the grass going up to my knees. It looked like a jungle.
"This is where my mom buried me after she killed me," she said, sitting on a small space of grass with her back turned. I sat next to her, my hands gliding across the soft grass as memories that were not my own flooded my mind.
I opened my eyes and saw that I was sitting next to a mound of dirt with a shovel sticking out. Looking towards the house, which was no longer covered in vines, I saw a pink haired meif'wa walking away, blood dripping from her hands.
"Punishing Yon was way too messy," she said, opening the door to the house and walking into a bathroom.
The world around me swirled and, suddenly, I was standing next to a little boy meif'wa. He looked about three years old, his curly, pink hair barely going down to his cheek. His eyes were amber, like Yon's and they shone with worry. He stood outside of the bathroom, the door shut as someone on the other side muttered something.
"Mama," he said, raising his tiny fist to knock. Before his hand could make contact with the dark wood of the door, it swung open, revealing the woman from before. Her pink hair was wet and sticking to her face, which had flecks of blood dotting it. I recognized her instantly as Athena Ishida, the one who murdered Yon.
A/N: Thank you guys for reading. Until next chapter! Bye!
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The Fall of a Jewel
FanfictionThis is the sequel to Colorful Sadness, a Zane~Chan soulmate AU that I have already finished. I advise you to read that before you read this story. Anyway, here's the real description: Ever since she was little, Jewel Ro'Meave had known that she was...