DISCLAIMER: I do not own BeyBlade - So please don't sue. I don't make any money from this story anyway.
SUMMERY: This fanfic is about Kai and his sad past. Now that Kai has made a new start with the BladeBreakers, He's happy where he is. But what happens when his past comes back to haunt him? and how will the BladeBrakers feel when Kai finally starts opening up to them. Rated PG13 for swearing and hints of suicide and violence.
Tragic Past.
Chapter One - Remembering.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~KAI'S P.O.V.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I can still remember what life was like, before the BladeBreakers, Before Grandfather. Everyone thinks that I forgot about what happened, before I came to live with Grandfather, or that I blocked it out, But I still remember it. I remember it as clear as if it had only happened yesterday. I mean, how can anyone expect you to forget something like that, what my life had been. I was only four when it started, when everything changed. That's when my dad died, when my mom got a taste for beer, when the beatings started. When My life took a turn for the worst.
###############FLASHBACK##################
"Kai, you little brat, why didn't you get me any beer?" The blonde woman who used to be my Mom, said. She looked out of the fridge at me. I suppose that she was wishing that beer would appear in there magically. We lived in a grotty run-down flat, and all I had to sleep on was the pullout couch, and even that was half busted. "The man said I was too little. He said that He can't give me beer cause I'm too young." I said, hoping she'd leave it at that. She didn't. She was hardly, ever, sober. If not hardly ever, then not at all, So she never dropped anything.
"You worthless little shit. I didn't want any god-damned kids in the first place, it was just your stupid father. You're not useful for any thing are you?" I knew what was coming. I edged for the door. "Maybe if I can just make it out the door, then I can go to the Arcade, and Mom will have forgotten about me by the time I come back." I remember thinking. "I'm sorry I can't do any more Ma." I said. After my dad died Mom stopped being my kind, sweet, Mom, that would never hurt me, and started being Ma, the cold heartless woman who beat me all the time, the woman that was staring at me now, with bloodshot, drunken eyes. And I was just her punch-bag, I was no longer her little baby (like she called me before dad died) I was just another obsticle to her now.
I edged towards the door a little bit more. "OH NO YOU DON'T, YOU SNEAKY LITTLE SHIT!!!" She yelled. She'd caught me, and there'd be hell to pay. *SMACK* I felt her backhand me across the face. It sent me sprawling on the floor. "You think you're gonna do a runner on me." "No Ma, I swear, I was just gonna try and get you some more beer, honest Ma." I was so scared, I was shaking. But it didn't save me. *CRACK* She punched me in the stomach, after lifting me to my feet. I fell on the floor, crying. "DON'T YOU DARE CRY." She screamed, but I couldn't stop. I wanted to, but I just couldn't keep the tears from coming out of my eyes. So she started kicking me. *BOOT BOOT BOOT BOOT* I felt each kick as she booted me in my side. She was smoking a cigarette. I felt one of my ribs crack. She stopped kicking me and flicked her cigarette ash, seeing that it was the last of her cigarette, I knew what was coming. "What are you, Brat?" she asked me. "I'm worthless Ma." I said. It was what she wanted to hear most of the time anyway. "GOOD," she said, putting her cigarette out, on my arm. I yelped in pain, and received another back-hander for my troubles. "Remember that, brat and maybe you'll turn out to be something worth bothering with." She said. Then she went out. No doubt to another pub, to drink herself into another drunken stupor.
##############END FLASHBACK#################
I woke up in a cold sweat. My nightmares were always about Ma. It didn't matter how hard I tried to stop having nightmares, I never, ever did. I got out of bed. I was on my way to the World BeyBlade Championships . Me and the other BladeBreakers. I didn't treat them like they were, but they insisted on calling themselves, my friends. To be honest, they really were my only true friends. I didn't talk to them and I never got involved with their stupid antics, but they were my friends. They were there for me, even when I told them to get lost. Even though I never acted like a friend. I didn't truly know what friendship was.
I always acted on a professional level. It's too easy to get hurt if you show your feelings. I'd learned that with Ma. I had given her all my emotions, and all I ever got in return was a beating. And besides, Grandfather likes it that way, so I stick with it. If I became true friends with them, I'd have to tell them about my past, and my Ma. Would they still want to be friends then? I sincerely doubted it. I didn't need anymore hurt. I'd already been hurt enough. I was so naive back then. And I was afraid, and scared, and I cried. I mean has anyone ever seen me cry? And the answer is.... No, only my Ma ever saw me cry, and my tears were as worthless to her as I was.
Before my dad died. My Mom, Dad and I would go to the beach. We went to visit Grandfather at christmas, we went to the cinema. We did all the things that a normal family did. But that was before. Before He died, before Mom started boozing, Before everything. When I used to love and respect my parents. Even though Grandfather's tough on me, at least he never, ever beat up on me and he never made me feel worthless. Even when he was strict with me.
I know what you're all wondering. How did my dad die? Why? Well, there's a simple answer to that. He comitted suicide. He slit his wrists when he found out that his company had gone bust. Leaving me with Ma. She stopped being Mom after my Dad died,and started being Ma. I know what you're gonna ask next. Why didn't my Ma take up kick-boxing, rather then take up kick-kai's-head-in? I really don't have an answer for that. Maybe it was cause I looked like dad. Maybe because I was like him in personality. Maybe it was cause she was so pissed that she couldn't see straight most of the time. Mabe it was just easier to take out her aggression on something that couldn't fight back. I know what you're gonna say. Why didn't she just buy a punch-bag? That I can answer. Why buy a punch-bag when she's got her own ready made one at home? It's just being cheap. I mean, it's not like she couldn't have bought a perfectly good punch-bag at JJB Sports. I was just a cheap substitute for the punch-bag she couldn't be bothered to buy. But even that changed.
I stopped being a punch-bag, when I was seven, That was when my Ma got so mad, that she stopped hitting me with her hands, and started hitting me with other things instead. Sometimes it was a stick. Sometimes it was a thick plank of wood. Sometimes it was a brush. Sometimes it was the broom. Sometimes it would be all four. She'd smack me around till I passed out, sometimes she even beat me after I was passed out. She used a various arsenal of household objects to beat up on me. Once she beat me with a belt, till the blood ran out from me, like water from a tap.
I'd always hide it though. If the teachers found out then my Ma'd get into trouble. And then there'd be even more hell to pay. I'd hide what bruises I could, You know with long sleaves, trousers. Ma made it surprisingly easy, cause she never hit my face or head. Sometimes, I had to stay off school, because I was in too much pain to move. Like the time she beat me with the belt. I never went swimming, or any of the school trips. I'd do anything to get out of P.E. and usually managed it quite well.
I went to school most days. It was either school and something to eat, or staying home and dealing with Ma. I'd work tirelessly on my schoolwork. I wouldn't make any friends, there would be too many attachments then. I even spent my lunchbreak inside, doing my homework. I was, what my social worker called, withdrawn. I only ever ate at school, never at home. My Ma never had the money to feed me, she said she needed it for her *bits and pieces,*
Yeah right. Like I believed that shit for more than five seconds. More like she was using it to buy booze and cigarettes. I mean, come on, how dumb do I look. O.K. on second thoughts, don't answer that. I may have been young, but I wasn't stupid. My life didn't change until I was eight. When her last beating nearly killed me. My life took another twist, yet again.
################FLASHBACK#################
"What are you doing, you little shit." My Ma asked me. Her damp, stringy, flax hair hung limply around her face. She had been so different when Dad was alive. She had changed so much over the past four years.
I only have one photo of me and My Mom and Dad, together. I keep it in my journal (That's right a journal, don't even bother laughing) She looked so different in the photo. Her hair was like spun gold. her face was clean and creamy, her eyes were a beautiful, cystal blue.
She had taken a lot of pride in her appearance back then. In this photo, She wore a long, pastel blue, sleavless summer dress and a pair of pastel blue pumps. She wore a sapphire pendant around her neck. She had her golden hair tied half up and half down. Dad stood next to her. He had his hair like mine, eyes like mine. Well let's just say that he's an older version of me (without the blue streaked face paint) he wore a pair of blue-denim jeans and a red T-Shirt and a pair of white trainers. I wore a pair of blue-denim jeans and a black T-Shirt. I wore a pair of white trainers, like my dad's and my dad was holding me. I had my arms wrapped around his neck. Mom had her arm around his waist and was waving into the camera with her other hand. We were at the beach, smiling into the camera. I can't remember who took the picture, but I always kept it with me. It was a reminder, that once upon a time, my life had been normal and good.
I looked at her now wondering if she was the same person that had loved me so much. No, I had decided in the end, the woman who had loved me, died wtih my dad, leaving behind this horrible woman. "I am doing my homework, Ma." I answered. Afraid of being beaten if I didn't answer, knowing that even if I did answer that she might still beat me for anyway. "Stupid, Dumb, Kid. I told you not to bother with that shit. You're just like your damn father. YOU DON'T FUCKING LISTEN!!!" She screamed at me. She went into the kitchen and pulled out the bread knife from the drawer. I didn't try to edge away this time. I was too terrifried to try that. I ran to the door, but she was faster. I felt the stinging pain of the bread kinfe, as it went into my shoulder-blade. I didn't scream, I just collapsed on to the floor, and she kept ramming the knife into my chest and stomach. I stayed silent, until everything started going black. Then, mercifully, I slipped away. Into the comfortable darkness that I knew too well.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
When I woke up, I was in a hospital. The neighbours had called the police when they heard the commotion. I had nearly died. The doctors told me, later on, that I hadn't screamed, because my body had gone into shock. "How long has this been going on Kai?" a nurse said. "How long has what been going on?" I said. Trying to find a way out of the questions. They had a report on my medical condition. According to the records, I was malnourished, underfed and had a severe case of annemia. I had three broken ribs and four fractured ribs. I had fractures all over my body, from the various beatings, that I had had to endure, for the past four years. "How long has your mother been beating you?" the nurse asked. I was shocked. I didn't know that anyone else knew about her beating me. I had always thought that I was alone. I looked at her. "You won't get into trouble Kai, We'll be able to make it stop. You'd go to live with a relative until your Mom gets better." "You can't make her better." I said, the tears streaming down my cheeks. "Tell us what's happened to you so that we can help. We can't help if you don't tell us what's wrong." the nurse said.
I felt totally defeated. I decided then, that I didn't care if my Ma beat me to death, I just wanted it to end, I wanted to trust somebody, I wanted to tell someone, let it all out and stop the pain I felt.
"It started when my Dad comitted suicide...."
So I did.
###############END FLASHBACK################
As you've probably guessed. Social Services sent me to live with my Grandfather. He lived in a big house in Japan, so nobody had read the papers about the trial, in which my Ma had been sentanced to nine years in prison for child abuse and severe neglect. As time went along, I made a new life for myself and made my own image. I learned martial arts, started dressing in my own style and started competing in BeyBlade competitions. I never thought I'd make it this far. But I never showed it, that's not my style. My style is to finish everything as quickly as possible and leave my opponent reeling, not knowing what the hell happened.
I never let the others see me change clothes. The scars from my Ma's beatings are still all too visible, especially the ones in my chest and stomach, when she'd stabbed me with the bread-knife. I just carried on. This is my new life, and I'm happy with it.
************************************************************
What did you think. Please R&R. I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit angsty, but please remember, this is about Kai's terrible past, not his bright flowery past. POOR Kai. I'm sorry, to all you Kai fans, but Kai has the most depressing personality, so I thought I'd explore it a bit. This comes from my being an author of angst. I'm a fan of Kai aswell. So I'm not gonna give this story a sad ending.
Next chapter - Tyson Finds out. (Thought I'd put in a teaser)
Tyson wakes up early, He walks into the room he shares with Kai. "Kai what the Hell are those...." Kai covers his mouth with his hand. "Shut it, Tyson....."
SUMMERY: This fanfic is about Kai and his sad past. Now that Kai has made a new start with the BladeBreakers, He's happy where he is. But what happens when his past comes back to haunt him? and how will the BladeBrakers feel when Kai finally starts opening up to them. Rated PG13 for swearing and hints of suicide and violence.
Tragic Past.
Chapter One - Remembering.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~KAI'S P.O.V.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I can still remember what life was like, before the BladeBreakers, Before Grandfather. Everyone thinks that I forgot about what happened, before I came to live with Grandfather, or that I blocked it out, But I still remember it. I remember it as clear as if it had only happened yesterday. I mean, how can anyone expect you to forget something like that, what my life had been. I was only four when it started, when everything changed. That's when my dad died, when my mom got a taste for beer, when the beatings started. When My life took a turn for the worst.
###############FLASHBACK##################
"Kai, you little brat, why didn't you get me any beer?" The blonde woman who used to be my Mom, said. She looked out of the fridge at me. I suppose that she was wishing that beer would appear in there magically. We lived in a grotty run-down flat, and all I had to sleep on was the pullout couch, and even that was half busted. "The man said I was too little. He said that He can't give me beer cause I'm too young." I said, hoping she'd leave it at that. She didn't. She was hardly, ever, sober. If not hardly ever, then not at all, So she never dropped anything.
"You worthless little shit. I didn't want any god-damned kids in the first place, it was just your stupid father. You're not useful for any thing are you?" I knew what was coming. I edged for the door. "Maybe if I can just make it out the door, then I can go to the Arcade, and Mom will have forgotten about me by the time I come back." I remember thinking. "I'm sorry I can't do any more Ma." I said. After my dad died Mom stopped being my kind, sweet, Mom, that would never hurt me, and started being Ma, the cold heartless woman who beat me all the time, the woman that was staring at me now, with bloodshot, drunken eyes. And I was just her punch-bag, I was no longer her little baby (like she called me before dad died) I was just another obsticle to her now.
I edged towards the door a little bit more. "OH NO YOU DON'T, YOU SNEAKY LITTLE SHIT!!!" She yelled. She'd caught me, and there'd be hell to pay. *SMACK* I felt her backhand me across the face. It sent me sprawling on the floor. "You think you're gonna do a runner on me." "No Ma, I swear, I was just gonna try and get you some more beer, honest Ma." I was so scared, I was shaking. But it didn't save me. *CRACK* She punched me in the stomach, after lifting me to my feet. I fell on the floor, crying. "DON'T YOU DARE CRY." She screamed, but I couldn't stop. I wanted to, but I just couldn't keep the tears from coming out of my eyes. So she started kicking me. *BOOT BOOT BOOT BOOT* I felt each kick as she booted me in my side. She was smoking a cigarette. I felt one of my ribs crack. She stopped kicking me and flicked her cigarette ash, seeing that it was the last of her cigarette, I knew what was coming. "What are you, Brat?" she asked me. "I'm worthless Ma." I said. It was what she wanted to hear most of the time anyway. "GOOD," she said, putting her cigarette out, on my arm. I yelped in pain, and received another back-hander for my troubles. "Remember that, brat and maybe you'll turn out to be something worth bothering with." She said. Then she went out. No doubt to another pub, to drink herself into another drunken stupor.
##############END FLASHBACK#################
I woke up in a cold sweat. My nightmares were always about Ma. It didn't matter how hard I tried to stop having nightmares, I never, ever did. I got out of bed. I was on my way to the World BeyBlade Championships . Me and the other BladeBreakers. I didn't treat them like they were, but they insisted on calling themselves, my friends. To be honest, they really were my only true friends. I didn't talk to them and I never got involved with their stupid antics, but they were my friends. They were there for me, even when I told them to get lost. Even though I never acted like a friend. I didn't truly know what friendship was.
I always acted on a professional level. It's too easy to get hurt if you show your feelings. I'd learned that with Ma. I had given her all my emotions, and all I ever got in return was a beating. And besides, Grandfather likes it that way, so I stick with it. If I became true friends with them, I'd have to tell them about my past, and my Ma. Would they still want to be friends then? I sincerely doubted it. I didn't need anymore hurt. I'd already been hurt enough. I was so naive back then. And I was afraid, and scared, and I cried. I mean has anyone ever seen me cry? And the answer is.... No, only my Ma ever saw me cry, and my tears were as worthless to her as I was.
Before my dad died. My Mom, Dad and I would go to the beach. We went to visit Grandfather at christmas, we went to the cinema. We did all the things that a normal family did. But that was before. Before He died, before Mom started boozing, Before everything. When I used to love and respect my parents. Even though Grandfather's tough on me, at least he never, ever beat up on me and he never made me feel worthless. Even when he was strict with me.
I know what you're all wondering. How did my dad die? Why? Well, there's a simple answer to that. He comitted suicide. He slit his wrists when he found out that his company had gone bust. Leaving me with Ma. She stopped being Mom after my Dad died,and started being Ma. I know what you're gonna ask next. Why didn't my Ma take up kick-boxing, rather then take up kick-kai's-head-in? I really don't have an answer for that. Maybe it was cause I looked like dad. Maybe because I was like him in personality. Maybe it was cause she was so pissed that she couldn't see straight most of the time. Mabe it was just easier to take out her aggression on something that couldn't fight back. I know what you're gonna say. Why didn't she just buy a punch-bag? That I can answer. Why buy a punch-bag when she's got her own ready made one at home? It's just being cheap. I mean, it's not like she couldn't have bought a perfectly good punch-bag at JJB Sports. I was just a cheap substitute for the punch-bag she couldn't be bothered to buy. But even that changed.
I stopped being a punch-bag, when I was seven, That was when my Ma got so mad, that she stopped hitting me with her hands, and started hitting me with other things instead. Sometimes it was a stick. Sometimes it was a thick plank of wood. Sometimes it was a brush. Sometimes it was the broom. Sometimes it would be all four. She'd smack me around till I passed out, sometimes she even beat me after I was passed out. She used a various arsenal of household objects to beat up on me. Once she beat me with a belt, till the blood ran out from me, like water from a tap.
I'd always hide it though. If the teachers found out then my Ma'd get into trouble. And then there'd be even more hell to pay. I'd hide what bruises I could, You know with long sleaves, trousers. Ma made it surprisingly easy, cause she never hit my face or head. Sometimes, I had to stay off school, because I was in too much pain to move. Like the time she beat me with the belt. I never went swimming, or any of the school trips. I'd do anything to get out of P.E. and usually managed it quite well.
I went to school most days. It was either school and something to eat, or staying home and dealing with Ma. I'd work tirelessly on my schoolwork. I wouldn't make any friends, there would be too many attachments then. I even spent my lunchbreak inside, doing my homework. I was, what my social worker called, withdrawn. I only ever ate at school, never at home. My Ma never had the money to feed me, she said she needed it for her *bits and pieces,*
Yeah right. Like I believed that shit for more than five seconds. More like she was using it to buy booze and cigarettes. I mean, come on, how dumb do I look. O.K. on second thoughts, don't answer that. I may have been young, but I wasn't stupid. My life didn't change until I was eight. When her last beating nearly killed me. My life took another twist, yet again.
################FLASHBACK#################
"What are you doing, you little shit." My Ma asked me. Her damp, stringy, flax hair hung limply around her face. She had been so different when Dad was alive. She had changed so much over the past four years.
I only have one photo of me and My Mom and Dad, together. I keep it in my journal (That's right a journal, don't even bother laughing) She looked so different in the photo. Her hair was like spun gold. her face was clean and creamy, her eyes were a beautiful, cystal blue.
She had taken a lot of pride in her appearance back then. In this photo, She wore a long, pastel blue, sleavless summer dress and a pair of pastel blue pumps. She wore a sapphire pendant around her neck. She had her golden hair tied half up and half down. Dad stood next to her. He had his hair like mine, eyes like mine. Well let's just say that he's an older version of me (without the blue streaked face paint) he wore a pair of blue-denim jeans and a red T-Shirt and a pair of white trainers. I wore a pair of blue-denim jeans and a black T-Shirt. I wore a pair of white trainers, like my dad's and my dad was holding me. I had my arms wrapped around his neck. Mom had her arm around his waist and was waving into the camera with her other hand. We were at the beach, smiling into the camera. I can't remember who took the picture, but I always kept it with me. It was a reminder, that once upon a time, my life had been normal and good.
I looked at her now wondering if she was the same person that had loved me so much. No, I had decided in the end, the woman who had loved me, died wtih my dad, leaving behind this horrible woman. "I am doing my homework, Ma." I answered. Afraid of being beaten if I didn't answer, knowing that even if I did answer that she might still beat me for anyway. "Stupid, Dumb, Kid. I told you not to bother with that shit. You're just like your damn father. YOU DON'T FUCKING LISTEN!!!" She screamed at me. She went into the kitchen and pulled out the bread knife from the drawer. I didn't try to edge away this time. I was too terrifried to try that. I ran to the door, but she was faster. I felt the stinging pain of the bread kinfe, as it went into my shoulder-blade. I didn't scream, I just collapsed on to the floor, and she kept ramming the knife into my chest and stomach. I stayed silent, until everything started going black. Then, mercifully, I slipped away. Into the comfortable darkness that I knew too well.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
When I woke up, I was in a hospital. The neighbours had called the police when they heard the commotion. I had nearly died. The doctors told me, later on, that I hadn't screamed, because my body had gone into shock. "How long has this been going on Kai?" a nurse said. "How long has what been going on?" I said. Trying to find a way out of the questions. They had a report on my medical condition. According to the records, I was malnourished, underfed and had a severe case of annemia. I had three broken ribs and four fractured ribs. I had fractures all over my body, from the various beatings, that I had had to endure, for the past four years. "How long has your mother been beating you?" the nurse asked. I was shocked. I didn't know that anyone else knew about her beating me. I had always thought that I was alone. I looked at her. "You won't get into trouble Kai, We'll be able to make it stop. You'd go to live with a relative until your Mom gets better." "You can't make her better." I said, the tears streaming down my cheeks. "Tell us what's happened to you so that we can help. We can't help if you don't tell us what's wrong." the nurse said.
I felt totally defeated. I decided then, that I didn't care if my Ma beat me to death, I just wanted it to end, I wanted to trust somebody, I wanted to tell someone, let it all out and stop the pain I felt.
"It started when my Dad comitted suicide...."
So I did.
###############END FLASHBACK################
As you've probably guessed. Social Services sent me to live with my Grandfather. He lived in a big house in Japan, so nobody had read the papers about the trial, in which my Ma had been sentanced to nine years in prison for child abuse and severe neglect. As time went along, I made a new life for myself and made my own image. I learned martial arts, started dressing in my own style and started competing in BeyBlade competitions. I never thought I'd make it this far. But I never showed it, that's not my style. My style is to finish everything as quickly as possible and leave my opponent reeling, not knowing what the hell happened.
I never let the others see me change clothes. The scars from my Ma's beatings are still all too visible, especially the ones in my chest and stomach, when she'd stabbed me with the bread-knife. I just carried on. This is my new life, and I'm happy with it.
************************************************************
What did you think. Please R&R. I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit angsty, but please remember, this is about Kai's terrible past, not his bright flowery past. POOR Kai. I'm sorry, to all you Kai fans, but Kai has the most depressing personality, so I thought I'd explore it a bit. This comes from my being an author of angst. I'm a fan of Kai aswell. So I'm not gonna give this story a sad ending.
Next chapter - Tyson Finds out. (Thought I'd put in a teaser)
Tyson wakes up early, He walks into the room he shares with Kai. "Kai what the Hell are those...." Kai covers his mouth with his hand. "Shut it, Tyson....."