Forgive Me My Lord

Chapter 1 Family of the century (YATO'S POV) ******WARNING****** This chapter contains possible triggers for some of the audience. This chapter included: Child abuse, domestic violence, and cursing. Hello, my name is Yato Nana-Shima, and this is my story on how I became the demon lord of the Fallen in the realm of the Yokai. I lived a somewhat normal and average life up until I turned 19 and met a beautiful but strange woman. I have never really been social, and I am considered more of an outcast for basically my whole life, but I never minded, I preferred it that way especially after my mom died. I don’t remember much about her since she died when I was 8, but from what I do remember she had beautiful blue eyes and short black hair, I remember she always smelled like fruit since she was always planting fruit in the back yard, she loved her garden it was like her own oasis. That’s all I really recall though; I know she died of a heart attack and her and my father had a lot of disagreements. He blamed me for her death because the day she died it was during a big argument they were having; I remember only piece’s but the parts I can recollect are so vivid. They were arguing about me and my brother Seth, my brother was dad's favorite always has been, even since birth I was always so weak and fragile, the doctors said I may not live past 30, that is if I’m lucky. My dad was mad that I have not started school yet and that I don’t do anything besides watch TV and read books in my room. All my mom ever did though was defend me; I know she was my hero, but it caused her so much stress between their marriage. The night of the argument I remember hearing glass shatter and the clash of thunder outside; my dad was screaming at the top of his lungs that my mother’s love just makes me weaker and that I’m useless to the family; how they should have let the doctors take care of me instead of bringing my worthless being home, that’s all I remember though besides the ambulance showing up and being left alone at the house when they followed her to the hospital. They came back around one in the morning; I’ve been waiting up for them worried for the longest crying for my mother to come home soon. When the door opened at last though, all I seen was my brother who walked straight to his room without a word, and my father, his eyes looked blood shot as if he’s been brutally crying. I will never forget what he said to me that night and the look of pure hatred and disgust he gave me. Just in that short sentence I felt my world fall from the clouds and my heart denigrate from my chest, those three simple and intoxicating words that came from those putrid lips, “It’s your fault”. Ever since that night things for me have just went downhill, father started drinking and it only ever got worse, my brother was still the golden child ‘couldn’t be any more perfect’ in my father’s eyes. He always took his anger out on me even though I try so hard to not provoke him. My brother Seth said one of the reasons were because I looked just like mother, her blue eyes, midnight black hair, and pale white skin. He said just the look of me provoked him enough to beat me senseless, saying that with the bruises and scars I wouldn’t look so much like her. I’ve tried dying my hair but because of its darkness the color never takes and my eyes are too sensitive for contacts, so throughout school I put up with it, I had no friends or close family that cared for me so I got into a lot of trouble when I became a teen. Smoking weed, drinking burning liquor, I felt that at least becoming a little intoxicated myself I could prepare for a beating when I came home, sometimes I would stay out all night and just come home in the morning, it worked sometimes but not for the majority. Even though I became somewhat of a delinquent my grades were above average and I was able to finish high school on my 18th birthday, even with that though my father still considered me worthless. Little did he know I had been working at an Auto shop in town since I was 15, I was determined to save enough money to move out of that house as soon as I could. One time I got home at 4 in the morning thankful to find everyone asleep, the old man was passed out drunk on the recliner with a bottle of fireball about to fall out of his hand and a cancer stick burnt down to the bud in between his index and middle finger, typical drunk abusive father, I know right. Knowing well enough not even an earthquake could wake him at this state, I slid the almost falling bottle out of his hand and wiped off anything around the rim while walking upstairs to my room. I couldn’t fall asleep so I just ended up plugging in my headphone and slowly burning the s**t out of my throat, but I didn’t really care, as I felt the liquid settle into my bloodstream I was able to just sit back and relax without a care in the world. It was always funny to me though, the very liquid that fuels my father's anger and rage to beat me senseless, also helped me forget how much my life sucks. It is about 7:30 in the morning when my eyes started feeling heavy and I decided to lay in bed and tried to get some sleep, but I swear I laid my head down for less than 30 minutes when this ass hat comes barging into my room, and when I mean ass hat I really mean my kiss ass so called “perfect” brother Seth. “Oh good your up not that it really matters, but I need you to go to the store and buy dad some more liquor he ran out last night, and of course you know how moody he gets when he doesn’t have his morning mimosa”, he warned while staring down at me with a smug grin on his stupid face. “Why don’t you do it yourself, that’s something the perfect son would do for his father. I’m just the punching bag remember, doesn’t matter if he has his stupid drink or not, he’s still going to find a reason to throw a few hits, not that he really needs a reason though, am I right dear golden child?”, I spoke sarcastically while turning away from him to face the wall. I heard him sigh as if annoyed and surprisingly he left my room leaving the door wide ass open, but I didn’t care I was extremely tired and didn’t have the will power to shut it, well that was only temporary. After getting comfy in bed I shut my eyes hoping for sweet sleep until I felt something really really hot poured onto my exposed back , I panicked and jumped out of bed just to find me along with my bed drenched in steaming hot water, needless to say I was pissed. I looked over to Seth just to see that i***t laughing his butt off like it was the funniest thing in the world, I was already exhausted but now I’m also pissed off and was unable to contain my anger. I ran up to him in 2 seconds flat and smashed my fist into the side of his face so hard he fell backwards into the middle of the hall outside my door. I didn’t realize how hard I really hit him until I saw a little blood dripping down his lower lip, in that very instant I was terrified from the feeling of someone staring daggers at the back of my neck, I was too scared to look but I knew he was right there, as soon as I heard a heavy foot take a step towards me I tried to zip past Seth that was still on the floor. I was so focused on running to the stairs to make my escape, I didn’t pay attention to the bastard on the floor. I almost made it past him before I felt a strong blow to the back of my knee, that cut off all the balance I had, until I started tumbling down the stairs one step at a time, I swore every step hurt more than the previous one. When I finally crashed down on the floor at the bottom of the steps, I tried to regain my strength to hurry and get away, but of course I didn’t make it, as soon as I was on my knees trying to push myself up with my arms I felt a sharp pain on my side. The old man kept kicking me on my side and on my stomach even after I stopped trying to get up, this only went on for about 20 mins before the fat bastard had to catch his breath. I was in too much anguish to move an inch, so I just laid there on the floor, wrapping my arms around my stomach in tears, it hurt so much I couldn’t speak, not even a whimper. When I looked up to the top of the steps I saw Seth looking at me with a satisfied grin, knowing he was the one who made it possible for the old man to catch me, simply by kicking the back of my already messed up leg. I hated them both so much, but I hated myself more for not doing anything to stop them, I already knew running from them was a temporary solution because I couldn’t just leave and not come back, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. After I was as good as knew I started working a buttload more hours at the shop and happy to say all my hard work and years of suffering and suffocating in that house paid off. I managed to buy a motorcycle and a cheap apartment on the other side of town. Unfortunately, that son of a b***h followed me home one day from the store and broke in when I fell asleep. I was peacefully asleep after a long day at work and coming home from buying new lightbulbs for the apartment, I thought my life was getting better but as always I was wrong, I left that crap hole only 3 months ago, but even then I always felt like I was never alone. It annoyed me but didn’t bother me because it felt familiar, whatever it was didn’t feel like it was dangerous, just kind of felt like someone was watching over me, s**t it might be my new fairy godparent since obviously the one I had before was awful at their job. But when I was walking home that night if felt like I was being watched by more than one thing, I felt the normal weird but familiar presence but there was also a other one, a more sinister one, so I ended up speeding to my house on my Harley. I stayed up for a little to be safe, but I could not keep my eyes open any longer, so I went to bed, and that’s when he came in. All I knew was I was jerked off the bed awaking from my sleep in a panic, while my eyes tried adjusting to the dark, a strong odor engulfed my nose, a sickening combination of cigarette smoke and the body odor of a heavy alcoholic, that’s when I knew exactly who it was and instantly went into self-defense mode. I tried looking for something close by to use as a weapon, and the bat my mother gave me for my 7th birthday fell on my hand, I didn’t want to use it as a weapon and risk it getting damaged but I’m sure she’d understand. I swung the bat as hard as I could hoping to shatter his knees, but I did not aim low enough and hit his crotch instead, well that’s some ball buster. I heard him yell in agony and took my opportunity to flee, while making as much noise as possible hoping someone would hear it as I headed towards the house phone just to find it completely smashed. While I cursed the old man, I felt the bat jerked from my hand while being violently pushed so hard my shoulder put a hole in the hard wall. I was so angry I couldn’t focus on anything, all I could feel was my body heat up and my hand felt like it was burning but whatever it was vanished before I had the chance to see what the hell it was. Because of whatever was around my hand I completely forgot about the lunatic trying to cripple me, that was until the bat was jammed into my stomach knocking the wind out of me. I’ll admit I thought that was it for me, that sick prick beat me with a bat until I was dazed and confused, I looked up at him getting ready for that last blow, I’ve heard of someone’s life flashing before their eyes before death, but either it was that or I was just in really bad shape. I was prepared for the last hit, I seen him raise that bat covered in a sticky dark red paint like substance, I thought it was over for me, but it never happened. Being on the verge of blacking out my vision was blurry but I swore that night right when he went to deliver the last strike, a woman with pure white hair longer than my arm; fierce blue eyes as if they were carved from the oceans frozen heart, and wings as black and beautiful as my mother’s hair with feathers that looked so soft and smooth as if a crow from the heavens have flown to earth as my guardian angel. After saving me I stared into her icy blue eyes they looked so dark yet so soft, as I drifted into an alike coma. When I awoke, she was gone, and I was in the hospital alone. I asked the doctors about the girl when they came In, but they said when the cops got there, there was no one by that description. I decided to leave the part where the girl had wings out for obvious reasons but even with doing that they say no one was there, and if that wasn’t bad enough they were questioning me about how someone in my condition was able to take down a man with a bat twice my size and they wanted to know where was the weapon I used to defend myself. I had no clue what they were talking about, I don’t even remember being able to throw one hit at the bastard nonetheless take him down. I’m guessing they believed in me enough to tell me what they seen when they got there after receiving a call from my neighbor’s when hearing the break in. They explained that when they broke through the door to my apartment it looked like a crime scene as soon as you walked in, you could tell there was a scuffle and signs of resistance when my father was trying to drag me down to the floor after throwing me against the wall several times. According to the police I’m lucky to be alive and breathing on my own by the way the apartment looked. Later on they took me down to the biopsy room and slid one of the slabs where they lay corpses after having them examined, but when they took me down there little did I know the man that made me hate life itself would be laying on that slide. When I see my father upon that table I didn’t know how to feel, between being surprised and terrified I also felt what must have been relief, but I was also confused by what looks to be flesh wounds across his chest and just below that gash it looked as if to be knife entry as if he were stabbed by a huge knife. If that wasn’t strange enough, the cut looked clean as if the person knew what they were doing, and it couldn’t have been any hunting knife either. I guessed the cops thought I’ve been through enough because they let me go without further questioning and because I couldn’t go home regarding to the fact it’s being claimed as a crime scene, the police department was kind enough to buy a hotel room for me until my apartment is cleared and cleaned up. I have to say though I’m kind of happy the scum bag is dead, it’s a terrible thing to say but when I think about everything that asshole put me threw, I can’t find myself feeling bad for him at all. A part of me feels free now, but I can only imagine what my brother Seth is going to think when he finds out, surely he’s going to blame me, he maybe even try to find me and beat my ass, I’d expect nothing less from the golden child. That night I laid there for over two hours thinking about everything that’s happened in the past 48 hours, and there is still several things about the old man’s death that just doesn’t make sense , where the hell did those cuts come from and who the hell gave them to him, the medical examiner said those cuts and flesh wounds were the cause of death. As well as who was that girl I seen before blacking out? Was she the one who killed the old man?