Sway, by Panzareta

Sway

by Panzareta

Rated: E

Pairing: Robber

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Did you ever wake up to find A day that broke up your mind Destroyed your notion of circular time

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Warm.

He remembered being warm. And safe. It was one of the very few good memories he had--or *thought* he had--he wasn't sure. But one thing he was sure of--that feeling hadn't lasted too long. The voices always interrupted his sleep--sharp, shrill, angry voices that provided a constant soundtrack for his ragged nerves.

Pain.

He remembered pain more than anything.

Pain in his ears, which always ached and made him cry. Pain from punishment, for being a [bad boy]. Sharp, scolding voices that constantly said shutupshutupSHUTUP and ... and then more pain from trying to be a [good boy] but the pain in his ears made an even bigger pain in his head and he only cried louder.

He couldn't remember learning to walk, but he knew that walking had not been easy.

The floor, the hard unforgiving floor had not been his friend, brightly polished and highly waxed floors glittering with lights sharp as broken glass, ready to trick him into losing his always-shaky balance so he would fall and hurt himself. The hard, abrasive pavement, always hungry for a bite of his delicate, pale skin, tearing at it until it bled. And the laughter that always followed--a veritable cacaphony of sound that came from all directions like a mad carousel spinning out of control.

Fear.

When he did manage to walk, he was so clumsy and awkward, that he had staggered about like some small, wounded creature and that scared him as well. He remembered puppies, and they had all been soft and sweet and snuggly and the mama dog hadn't snapped or growled even once at his awkward patting of her family. The puppies had been born blind and helpless but they squirmed and they eventually learned to crawl on awkward little legs that soon became graceful and long. People soon came and looked at the puppies,money was flourished, and soon a puppy left with a stranger, never to return.

Finally, all of the puppies were gone except one--the one "They" called [runt] that couldn't walk very well either--just like him. He had liked it best of them all, for it was always willing to let him hold it and pet it and love it, and, for once, he had never gotten in trouble for doing that either. But "They" had other ideas; ideas which he felt he would never be able to comprehend, not if he lived to be *old*. He still couldn't make out words very well but he had followed them outside, watching in horror as the puppy was held underwater, struggling, whining and finally howling in sheer terror as overpowering, merciless hands took its life. He had felt *fear* then, such fear as he had never dreamed it was possible to feel, a fear that whispered in his ear and embedded itself permanently into his brain. The puppy's struggles soon stopped; it floated gently on top of the water, and he noticed it seemed oddly at peace. But then "They" were walking toward him and in that instant he knew what was coming, and he had clumsily ran as fast as he could, anywhere away from "Them". There had been a loud sound in his ears, one that he couldn't run away from or escape, even though he tried to cover his ears with his hands to stop the noise.

In the end, "They" had caught him--as he had somehow known "They" would. He lay sprawled in the gravel road, cut and bleeding from fresh scrapes and old scabs that had been knocked off, his face streaked from his tears mingling with the dirt road.

He had screamed as loudly as he could, biting and kicking wildly as "They" carried him back into the house and kicked the bathroom door open, running a bath for him in the middle of the day. He had fought with renewed strength then, even as the hands reached implacably towards him, stripping his clothes off and placing him into the tub. He had been beyond all knowing then, with only a desperate instinct to survive. Slippery as an otter, he slid through their grasps and tried one last time to escape. But the floor, his oldest enemy had betrayed him once again, the slick soapy surface bubbling under his feet as he slid backward and crashed his head against the cast iron rim of the old bathtub.

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White.

The next thing he remembered was white. He was in a room where there were other children--he could hear their voices. He lifted his hand to his head and felt cloth wrapped around it and he frowned in puzzlement. He sat up in bed and looked around, gently touching his ears. Despite the funny cloth on his head, his ears felt different, strange, and he couldn't figure out why. Never having heard clearly before, he had no frame of reference for the sudden *normal* ambience that he was experiencing. He looked up, feeling slightly scared as the curtain was whisked back, and he saw a woman with light yellow hair wearing a white dress, shoes and cap. The cap had a shiny gold pin attached to it, and he was as fascinated by that gold pin as anything he had ever seen.

Years later, he was to realise that she was a Registered Nurse; in fact, the head of the pediatric wing, and the very best person he could ever hope to have advocate for him. It was she who insisted on his hospital stay, somehow finding a special fund to pay for the care that his parents refused to bother with. It was she who saved his remaining hearing and kept him from a world of total, incomprehensible silence.

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He was determined that *this* set of self-help tapes would be the ones to help him become successful.

He knew he could be successful, if he could only get that one lucky break. Reading through the material, the introductory paragraphs said that in order to be successful, one must resolve past issues. He snorted. *He* had no past issues--that was just silly. Still, he was determined to make this work, so he'd try to follow instructions. Choosing a tape of soothing ocean sounds, he laid down and tried to relax, thinking about growing up....

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He woke up feeling puzzled and annoyed. He'd dreamed about the hospital again, back when he was a toddler with a bad ear infection. The nurse had been so kind to him--he really hadn't minded being there at all. Strange that he should dream of it now--he was supposed to be resolving *past* issues, and there weren't any there. He shrugged. He'd try again later on. Right now, he was broke with no job and no savings to fall back on.

But he did feel better about facing challenges. Today, he would go out and show the world that he wasn't beaten yet. They'd be sorry for calling him a bum and a loser. He'd show them--He'd show them all.

The End

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