Never Again

by Ritsuko

Lyrics by Nickelback

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Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men:Evolution. If I did, I'd have a pretty hot harem of underage boys running around. ::blush::

All song lyrics are in little *'s, just so you know.

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It's hard not to live in this house and not have a bad history, yo. Our family lives up until this point have pretty much been shit. Lance didn't have a father, and his mom had to drop tricks to get an income. Pietro's father beat him on a regular basis. At least when he could catch him. Freddy never even knew his parents. . . the bastards left him on a doorstep a few months after he was born, too poor to pay for all that baby food. And Tabby. . . I know her dad's all controlling and abusive. . . but just how far I think that abuse runs. . . well, it's not for me to tell, yo.

As for me, well, same old shit as anyone I guess.

Except my mother was the most beautiful woman that ever lived. No shit. I try to remember her by her smile, shining golden hair framing vibrant blue eyes. Rosy cheeks and peach colored skin I could have sworn smelled of the luscious fruit. A soft drawl that was always ready to sing me a lullaby, full lips ready to kiss me good night, willowy arms to hold me, no matter how badly she hurt.

*He's drunk again, it's time to fight She must have done something wrong tonight*

Ma was a Mutie too. That's where I got it from, I guess, unless Pops had some recessive gene that he didn't know about. But that would've burned him even harder. He hated 'my kind' with a passion. Probably would've stoned Ma to death if he'dve known before they married. Luckily enough for her (Incredibly bad luck, yo) he got to wait for his first sickly looking spawn to come into the world. Yours truly.

Then the truth came out slowly over the years. Ma had gills. She liked to swim with the manatees when her parents went on road trips to Florida when she was little. She'd fake out everyone at Summer camp by thinking she'd drowned.

At least she looked perfectly normal. As I grew over those first few years, my. . . condition became clear. It's not hard to think your kid's a freak when he's catching flies in the back yard with his tongue while making mud pies. In Pop's word's I'd always be a freak.

And she was the cause of that.

*The living room becomes a boxing ring It's time to run when you see him clenching his hands*

All it took was a little booze in pop's system to get him flat out enraged and desperate to pummel somebody for all of the bad happenings in his life. . . losing his job, getting his liscence revoked, having a son like me.

I can remember being two years old and watching those drunken, red rimmed eyes searching me out in a room, while I sank down and tried to hide anywhere possible. Sometimes I got the shit beat out of me. But most times, she stepped in.

*She's just a woman. . . . never again*

. . . it's hard to remeber that face without the bruises.

*I hear her scream from down the hall Amazing she can even talk at all*

Ma wasn't strong. She was maybe half the size of Pop on a good day. But she always tried to keep me safe, calling enough attention away from Pop to let me slouch through the room unnoticed, another pretty habit of mine. It's been years since all of that shit, but it's like I still believe he's gonna jump out of a wall and deck me one. It's just much easier to hunch up and be wary I guess. But that's not the point of my story, yo.

I'd be sitting in my closet of a room, listening to him grunting and yelling like some enraged animal, and hear her shrieks and sobs for him to stop. I was just so scared at that age that somehow, she wouldn't be able to stop him, and then he'd come after me. . . and I'd cry weak and useless tears.

*She cries to me 'Go back to bed' I'm terrified that she'll end up dead in his hands*

But my stupid tears couldn't save Ma from a thrashing. And no matter where I was, I always heard it. I could be at school and hear the faint echoes of the memories clashing in my mind, and I'd start to cry. My teachers must've thought I was completely gone, because I was always an utter recluse in those days, not that much has changed. It never crossed my mind to tell those teachers what was going on.

Or maybe it did, and I just thought he'd find me and kill me. And Ma wouldn't be able to save me.

*She's just a woman. . . never again*

I can still hear her screams, her pleas of mercy, late at night, most of the reason I don't sleep that much. There'd be times the screams would stop, the door would slam, and I'd cautiously peek out from my room, and she'd lay there, broken and sobbing. Silently, I'd pad over to her, reach out a hand to touch her, and she'd start to flinch away. The first time that ever happened, I never quite understood just why, she was afraid of my touch. Maybe she really was disgusted and ashamed that I was her son.

But it wasn't just me. It was any touch. She could be buying groceries and the lady at the register could brush her hand while giving back the change, and she'd practically jump outta her clothes. My Ma couldn't stand people touching her unless she initiated it.

*Been there before but not like this Seen it before but not like this*

The worst nights were those that door didn't slam, my father didn't leave in search of more booze, or for a walk to 'cool' his head. Where I had to sit behind paperthin walls and listen to Pops take her by force. Four years old, and I knew he was raping her.

*Never before have I ever seen it this bad She's just a woman. . . never again*

One afternoon when I was about seven, Ma was reading to me, and I snuggled up to her in a rare moment of peace. it was one of those moments you wished you could bask in forever, yo.

The door slammed open, and Pop staggered in, reeking of vodka and smoke. He stared at us blandly for a moment, as my mother's calm gaze turned to fear. Then he motioned me to come to him. She pushed me in the direction of my room without even thinking about the danger of not following one of his orders.

Fury lanced out through my father's voice as he started to brutally beat her, and I stopped in my doorway, staring back in horror, knowing that this fight was somehow more terrible than the rest. She tried, she really did, to stand up to him, but he wrestled he to the ground and started to slam her head into the carpet. But he didn't keep his focus there, he attacked everything, until her arm gave with a sickening crack.

Only then did he stop, and stare down at her in a drunken stupor.

*Just tell the nurse you slipped and fell It starts to sting as it starts to swell*

We didn't have the money to pay hospital bills. You'd think my pop would've realized it before he ever even thought of hurting her just once. But in this circumstance we went. Ma had to make up some obscene lie just to get the nurse off of her back, something along the lines of slipping on the floor she'd just mopped, hitting her head on the oven, and somehow landing on ler arm the wrong way. The nurse looked at me, and gave me a cherry lollipop as if trying to coax the truth out of me, but I had learned at an early age to keep my mouth shut.

*She looks at you. . . she wants the truth It's right out there in the waiting room with those hands*

That nurse knew exactly what was going on, but there wasn't much she could do about it if we said nothing.

*Lookin' just as sweet as he can. . . never again*

You could see it in the look she gave Pop, who sat innocently with a terribly concerned look on his face in the waiting room. Even his Academy Award winning performance couldn't stop the nurse from glaring angrily at him. I kept hoping she'd slap him or something, but that wouldn't have been very professional. Instead, she gave me a pat on the head, and released my mother so our happy family could go on home and get back to the swing of everyday life.

*Seen it before but not like this Been there before but not like this*

That night, Ma, being hurt and bandaged, accidentally burned the casserole. Pop immediately backhanded her. She started to cry, and he hit her even harder. Frightened, I tried to make myself look as small as possible, and get the hell out of the room. Screams of pain followed me as I wished and hoped to God that something would happen, anything, a sign. . . somthing to stop him once and for all.

*Never before have I ever seen it this bad She's just a woman. . . never again*

I was almost out of the room when I heard another crack and a whimper. Horrified, I turned to see my ma's newly bandaged arm twisted at a completely impossible angle. And instead of stopping and realizing just what he had done, Pop just kept beating away at her.

*Father's a name you haven't earned yet You're just a child with a temper Haven't you heard don't hit a lady Kickin' your ass would be a pleasure*

Something inside me snapped- a hot feral pain flooding my senses, making me shake uncontrollably. At that point I realized that I was a Goddamn chicken. Here my mother was, always trying to keep him from hurting me, doing anything in her power to shield me from those hands, and I just continually sat back and hoped for the best. At that point I realized, it would never end. The fucker would continue until she was dead, and he could turn his attentions on me.

Before I knew what I was doing, a knife from the kitchen table was in my hands, and I started awkwardly slashing at his arms. Lot of good a butterknife will do, yo. But it took his attentions off of her, long enough to backhand me into a cabinet. My head slammed against cheap wood, and I felt it start to splinter. Terror seized me once again as he loomed over me, leaning down to grab the collar of my shirt. but that fear was fueled with a hatred, a definite need to survive. I've always had muscular legs, so I kicked him as hard as I could. Right in the good ol' family jewels.

And I missed terribly. The blow had knocked him a few steps back, but now he advanced on me with a primitive anger, eyes completely feral. The closest thing I've ever seen to it is the look that freaky X-geek with the claws gave me the days I left that so called initiation routine.

*He's drunk again, it's time to fight Same old shit just on a different night*

Ma screamed, and I looked at her. She seemed more shining and beautiful than ever, eretheal with tears streaking her face, contorted with fear, anger, and love. She raised her good arm, and I gasped.

*She grabs the gun, she's had enough Tonight she'll find out how fuckin' tough is this man Pulls the trigger fast as she can. . . never again*

The kitchen junk drawer was on the floor, proof of her harried digging through it to find the hand gun. Time seemed to slow as, at three feet, she sighted on my father's head. He had just started to turn to look at her, with blank, confused eyes, anger ebbing away.

I never heard the gunshot. But I saw the brains fly out of the side of Pop's head. Blood flew in all directions, spattering my face. Wide eyed, I left it. This was what I had always wished for, and now that it was happening, I couldn't believe it, yo. Ma didn't stop shooting. I realized it when my hearing came back, and all that could be heard for about a minute and a half was the empty click of the trigger. Pop's body had already settled beside me, one lifeless arm brushing my thigh. Blood already started leaking from his body, turning the linoleum crimson.

*Seen it before but not like this Been there before but not like this*

Cautiously, I moved, looking unbelieving into the unblinking stare of my father. As if he might jump up and grab me if I looked away.

But he didn't.

Ma dropped the gun to the floor, and sank to her knees, utterly drained. I ran to her, covering her in my arms, even though she flinched. Then, as if a dam had been let loose, she grabbed me and started to rock back and forth, crying and telling me how much she loved me. In that moment, I didn't feel like the ugly freak that she had borne into the world. I felt as normal as everyone else.

And then, she kissed me long and hard on the top of my head, and told me to go to the neighbors house for help. Even at that age, I didn't quite understand why. I should have seen her hand fishing around in the junk drawer.

*Never before have I ever seen it this bad She's just a woman. . . never again*

One last hug and I was out the door. I didn't even make it off the porch when that gunshot rang out.

Why knows why she did it? Did the thought of her being alone in the world with just her disgusting son as company frighten her? The thought of going to prison? Or maybe just the thought of being found out as a mutant.

I didn't go to the neighbors house. I didn't go anywhere but back inside. The barrel of the gun was still lightly resting in her mouth, those beautiful features contorted, half blown away. This was not my mother.

And at that point, I stopped caring about everything, school, people, myself. I let everything go.

Too many long years of abuse by foster families, school bullies, mocking laughter, teasing and loneliness followed. Then I came here. My one chance to strike back at a world that hated me and gave me no chances. Xavier is full of shit- people won't change their opinions on mutants, just like my father wouldn't stop beating my mother.

The only security that I can have in my life is the fact that I can fight back. And I wouldn't trade that for their cushy mansion, good grades, or even friendship, yo. I have a family here- one based on necessity- because no one else in the world understands us. We don't even understand each other. But we've seen pain and misery, and we'd rather die defending our shithole home and what we believe in, instead of giving into those things that have made us what we are. So it never happens again, yo.



Waaaah! Poor Toddie-kins!!!!