all these words they have lost their meaning.

[bijuu.]

I know this sucks, but I've been meaning to do something for Artemis for a good while now, and this idea was the first to stick to me. It sort of decreases in quality toward the end, but. I finished it. That's all that counts for me.

Five pages in Open Office. 10-point Verdana.

Have I done something wrong to deserve this?

Maybe it's punishment. I shouldn't be so unforgiving toward Felix just because of past experiences. He doesn't know. I don't want him to know. Am I wrong for refusing to tell him why I'm acting like this? Tears sting at my eyes as I push past people, ignoring the indignant shouts and cries of surprise when I nearly run into a child happily devouring his cotton candy. I don't want to cry. I haven't cried since André left me. My escape comes to an abrupt halt when I crash against someone at last; my breath flees my lungs in one burst and it takes me a while to catch it.

Surprised snarling. The girl I so carelessly ran into whips around, and I notice she's a 'morph, just like me. Jagged red and white is her theme. Her bushy tail whips at her rear and she fixes blood-red eyes on me, hissing furiously. The boy she's with is vaguely familiar, but I don't have time to think. The Zangoose 'morph – I finally realize what she is – snatches the front of my jacket in her hand, questioning me. She's missing an arm, I notice, and for some reason, that fact makes her all the more frightening. My eyes flick to two elongated claws on her index and middle fingers. Like a true Zangoose.

It's a result of my own stupidity.

She forces me against the brick wall behind us, roughly shoving me the short few feet; pain erupts in my back, in my shoulders, and my head. I watch the stars swim in front of my eyes for a moment, gasping at the flood of agony in the back of my skull. She's not gentle. I manage to respond in what seems like a brave tone; I cower under her gaze, my tail trailing in the dirt. The boy, the other menacing presence, finally takes interest and is at my side in an instant.

More pain; it's sharp and sudden, shooting up the length of my spine, and I realize he's trodden on my tail with nearly enough force to break bones. I can almost hear tendons snapping as my fifth appendage lashes in protest. I make the mistake of crying out from the stinging pain, and he responds by tangling a gloved hand in my hair, curling his fingers around a sensitive ear and tugging my head back roughly; I let loose a squeal. Another mistake.

The cold steel barrel of a gun is pushing against the top of my throat. I nearly choke when it digs into my skin, severing the passage of air to my lungs through my windpipe. I rasp for breath for an agonizing few moments, weakly struggling against his iron grip on my ear, frightened that, at any given moment, he'll tire of me and pull the trigger on that gun.

A snarling bark makes the air vibrate. A familiar voice calls my attention, and I nearly collapse in relief at the sight of Felix. Acantha and Jack are with him. My Mareep bays in shock and his fleece begins to crackle a second later, his expression changing to one of unadulterated fury. I struggle to find my voice, and call out to Felix, terrified. Mihael, yes, the boy who lived with us for a time, I finally recall, tightens his grip around my ear, now digging his nails into the flesh, and I let loose a pitiful, thin whimper. He tells me to shut my mouth, threatening Jack in the same breath. His Pokémon, some fiendish-looking hell hound clad in an acid-green pelt, launches himself through the air with a feral, guttural snarl, and easily tackles my Mareep, pinning Jack to the ground.

I scream, alarmed, pleading the creature to leave my friend alone. He doesn't hear me. The pressure at my throat vanishes in the next instant, but I'm too confused to realize why. The Zangoose girl slips behind me, her tone a husky coo as she trails her hand lower along my body. I shudder, and my tears finally spill over my cheeks; I flinch away from her wandering fingers. Not even Felix has touched me in that way. No one has. It isn't right, I scream silently, sobbing in a defeated fashion. Her abnormal claws finally reach the side of my face again, but then I feel her breath on the back of my neck, and jerk away from her; the movement must have surprised her. The ebony scimitars of her claws slice into my cheek, and the cut stings as my blood spills down the side of my jaw, trickling past my throat rapidly.

Felix is enraged. Even I'm frightened as he races toward the girl, his Treecko making futile attempts to hold him back. His fingers stumble for a hold around her tail, and with all the strength his frame can possibly muster, he pulls on it in an attempt to sway her attention from me.

I'm forgotten in that very moment.

She releases me with a snarl; a look of insane violence replaces her placid, teasing expression, and she shoves Felix to the ground, straddling him in order to tear at every inch of him she can reach.

I don't notice any of this.

The ground rushes up to meet me rapidly and I collapse to my knees, confused. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering from sheer fright. My tail feels like it's on fire, but I can't be bothered to soothe the pain. The dull ache in my skull is making my line of vision teeter and blur. I whimper, then. I'm so alone. I cry out in alarm when Nox suddenly gains my side; Noah isn't far behind, but I can barely see through my film of tears and attempt to scoot away from him before I realize he's there. He's worried, and I hate myself for running away. I fling myself at him like a child, clutching his jacket with all the terrified manners of a child who's just had a nightmare.

I'm so ashamed.

He's reassuring my safety. I tremble violently against him, afraid to let go lest I be subjected to that nightmare again. Nox leaves us to help Felix, and I briefly wonder if he's alright. My heart skips a beat when Noah turns his head; I can't look up. I don't have the strength, but I know he's shifting to see for himself. I'm shocked at the sudden, disbelieving hiss that flees him, and he tenses, so rigid that I raise my gaze, ignoring the screaming protest from my aching head, and follow Brother's eyes until they finally fall on the same spot.

For a second I think I'm seeing things. I must be, but Brother's eyes are like flint, the irises growing darker, his pupils dilating from sheer anger. I've never seen him so furious. And then I realize it. No, no...

A pitiful gasp makes my entire body shake like a leaf. I can't breathe; there's an iron grip around my lungs and heart, crushing every attempt to draw breath. My chest hurts. It hurts... I clutch at Brother's jacket, afraid I'll be drawn into a void. I draw a sudden breath and it's like inhaling poisonous thorns. My eyes are dry; despite the sight of Felix tangled up with the girl who had just threatened my very life, making no visible attempt to break the contact his lips have with hers, I can't cry. I stare, but I can't see anymore. I choke as if my throat has suddenly swollen up, and finally turn away, defeated.

I want to die. Please, just let me die.

I feel faint; I can barely register the fact that Noah's hooking his arms under my knees and holding me to his chest. Subconsciously, I wrap my arms around him, pressing my face against the base of his neck, still shivering as if I'm cold. My sensitive nose doesn't even wrinkle at the subtle acidic scent of his skin. My eyes are unfocused, half-lidded, and I ask for him to take me home. My voice is hoarse, and I feel Noah's arms jump slightly, as if in alarm. The pain in the various points of my body begins to recede to a dull ache, and I don't even remember to ask whether Jack is alright.

I've hardly moved from my bed; I can't. My muscles feel weak as I roll over, away from the rays of moonlight that stream in through the window of my room, through the white curtains I, myself, chose so long ago. I feel sick. My stomach is empty, but I retch violently and cough, expelling nothing. A soft whimper leaves my lips and I bury my face in the pillows. Consciousness flees me and I spiral into another living nightmare.

I can't sleep.

My eyelids feel like lead; I force them halfway open, blinking tiredly as I stare at the blaring blue screen of my clock radio, watching the digits flicker at the passing of each minute. It's nearly two in the morning. I push the clock away, knocking it off its bedside stand and it lands with a crash, sending a bolt of pain through my hypersensitive ears. I slam my hands over them, digging my nails into my scalp and roll over to my side. Brother heard that, I'm sure. He's never asleep at this hour. I'm right. There's a soft knock at the door and I ignore it; a quiet click, and footsteps. Pressure on the mattress indicates he's crawling into my bed, and soon I feel a hand on my shoulder. Noah makes a soft hushing noise, his other hand gently petting my ear, the same ear Mihael nearly tore off a week ago.

I flinch away and ask him to leave me alone. He stays put a moment, his hand still at my shoulder, and sighs quietly; the pressure vanishes from my side and I listen to him leave the room silently.

Once the door clicks, I let the tears come.

I wallow in my self-pity for the next hour, and finally drag myself off the bed; I feel lethargic. My vision teeters when I get to my feet, and I sway for a moment, clutching the bedpost as I make my way to the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind me and locking it. I shuffle to the sink and lean on it, almost afraid to look in the mirror.

To hell with this. I do it anyway.

To put it bluntly, I look like shit.

I can barely recognize myself. The skin around my eyes is bruised and thin from lack of sleep, my eyes themselves sore and reddened, irises a dull lackluster blue. I run a hand through my tangled and greasy hair and automatically curl my upper lip in disgust. I look more like a Zigzagoon than a Linoone. Shuffling over to the bathtub, I fumble with the dials, knocking over a bottle of what used to be my favorite body wash. The smell of the apple-scented foam stings my nostrils, but I ignore it and kick off my clothes, easing myself into the bath, submerging myself up to my chin. The water is almost searing hot; I don't pay much attention to it as it begins to drain. I must've knocked the plug out of place.

I flick on the shower instead, letting it drench my hair though I'm usually so nitpicky about letting it run into my ears. The warmth is making me realize even more that I haven't slept properly for the past ten days. I pull my knees up to my chest, watching rivulets of water tugging at my tail as they race down the drain. It's a mess. The fur is so tangled it'll take me forever to tame it. My claws are chipped and I know I haven't filed them for days. I suddenly chide myself for being such an idiot, and concentrate on scrubbing myself with an angry frown, disgusted at myself.

I'm so stupid.

What is this Yule Ball about, anyway? I steal a glance at the card propped up against a wrapped gift as I rifle through my drawers for clothes; I'm already wearing a pair of my best white pants, meticulous about getting no fur on the seat. My tail's almost aching now, because I'm holding it at an awkward angle to avoid brushing it against my pants unless I have to. Tobi's son, a shiny Buneary, is sitting on the edge of my bed, watching me curiously as I settle on a black and white striped long-sleeved shirt. I pull it on, smoothing it over my hips and turning around to make sure the fabric doesn't crease around the base of my tail.

I brush my teeth, flicking my eyes up at the mirror and frowning; the dark rings around my eyes are faded, but I'm still worrying about someone noticing them. Flicking an ear, I shrugged and ran a brush through my hair again. I can't believe I consented to this. Making those shirts wasn't much of a task. Hopefully this Odele girl would like a shiny Buneary. If not... I don't know. I'm not sure if this party is a good idea.

Wow. Just... wow. It's crowded. Too crowded for me.
Oh thank Arceus, I found the girl and offloaded my presents. She seemed to like the shirts, or so I'd like to believe. Maybe she was just being nice. All I really care about is that she treats Tobi's little boy well. I can't help but cast a glance over my shoulder, and sigh softly. He waves briefly at me and I smile. I think he'll be okay.

Oh. Good. Lord. Arceus.

I'm almost in shock. A shiny Linoone. What in the world is this? She's lounging on my shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world, nosing my neck and cooing. I'm afraid to touch her; she's either a specter or a figment of my imagination, but when I finally manage to ask her if someone owns her, she nudges her snout toward a man in the middle of the room. I scan the area with my eyes, and they fall on an ebony-haired man I think I've seen before. I step closer, urged by the Linoone around my shoulders, and tentatively approach. What does he want with me, of all people?

I finally get close enough to stop, and shyly stand in front of him, hesitatingly calling his attention. I flinch immediately when he scolds me for being so formal with him. My cheeks flood with color, and I mutter something in response, thinking I thought I should be careful with such an influential man's son. He doesn't think so. The Linoone slips into his company instead, and I'm left alone.

What now?

He hands me a card much like the one I received for Odele, and asks me to read my wishlist; I stand silently, holding the paper gingerly and feel another flush lighting my face. I bite my lip, embarrassed now that I see some of the things I've written down. In a defeated tone, I mumble a feeble excuse to save myself. He's had to have read it. He's just making fun of me. He's picking at my vulnerable spots.

Next thing I know, he's behind me, embracing me gently and looking over my shoulder; I tense defensively, and my heart all but jumps into my throat. For the longest moment, I want to flee. Finally, he takes wraps his fingers around my wrist and coaxes me to sit.

I obey like some good little Growlithe.

His Linoone, named Sagwa as he tells me, seems to like me; she curls up in my lap as he tells me I deserve to be spoiled. I'm reminded for a brief moment about something I don't want to be reminded of, and concentrate on caressing Sagwa's ears gently. She's so beautiful. I never thought I'd be lucky enough to see, so much as actually touch a shiny Linoone.

I ask, 'why me?' as he leans over the side of his seat, reaching for something. He stops, his forehead creasing into a frown as he glances over the crowd, and then finally looks back at me, a smile quirking his lips. My heart throws a flip when I notice his eyes; they're blood red. Vivid. Piercing. I want to look away, but I'm too curious to. Something seems to melt the patch of black ice around my heart when he looks at me and tells me he knows what I'm going through.

How? I finally avert my eyes, and blink; how could he possibly sympathize with me? My attention is stolen in a moment when he pulls out a Linoone plush, pushing it into my arms. I hug it close to my chest, covering the lower half of my face with the smooth surface of the stuffed creature. I inhale through my nose, closing my eyes for a moment at the oddly reassuring scent that invades my senses. Is it his cologne? I hug the plush just a little tighter and flick back my ears; I'm confused. He's so kind. It's safe. It makes me feel so safe.

More presents.

I open a box with such a wide assortment of hair clips it almost dwarfs my own collection at home. A smile quirks my lips, and I gingerly pick out a pretty one with a Mesprit clinging to the end, clipping it to my hair so it can hold back a lock; my smile grows to a grateful grin of sorts, and I gaze shyly at him, placing the top back on the box so I can accept his last gift.

He's leaning closer now, and my heart flutters nervously as I'm provided with a too-close-up view of his eyes. Those are definitely not contact lenses. My hands are shivering as I accept the box, undoing the ribbon and lifting the lid of the thin casing. As I reveal the gift, I feel a lump in my throat. He mentions that if I don't like the necklace, he can make me another in its place. I stare at the piece, afraid to touch it. It's white gold. The loops curl around three teardrop-shaped amethysts; that's my birthstone, I realize suddenly, and my eyes begin to blur.

He made me this. For me.

I can't stop the tears; they spill over, racing down my cheeks. My hands shake silently and I don't make an attempt to cover my face. I can't move; I try to say something, but the only sound I can produce is a pathetic sob. I caress the cool metal gently, smiling through my tears and watching the amethysts glint in the bright lights. My heart is fluttering like a Beautifly now, and I scoop the necklace into the palm of my hand, holding it gently. He stands, leaving me to sit on the edge of the chair; the movement urges a small wave of that same scent I detected on the Linoone plush toward me, and I feel my smile curling my lips just a little more.

Maybe things will be better from now on.

Thank you, Nema. Thank you so much.