wah happa

Glam Shvagenbagen

𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

Chapter 1

Tokyo Revengers

𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀

Tw: basically the same stuff we see happen to glam, abuse, parental indifference, bad writing, blood

Music flows through the room as her nimble fingers dance across the neck of the large instrument. The bow gracefully caresses the strings, producing a graceful sound. She closes her eyes, attempting to transport herself from the room, away from the wretched man watching her with a scornful eye. All too soon, her movements cease. 

“Anastasia. Are you trying to embarrass this family?”

“No father,” she refuses to meet his eye.

“You play as if you are a nobody!”.

Anastasia stays silent as her father raises his voice. She knows what will come. 

“Hand! Now,” he reaches for the ruler, made of thin, slightly pliable metal. The previous wood ones had all broken, leaving nasty splinters that were a mess to clean.

“Yes father,” she keeps her voice steady, lifting the sleeve on her left hand. 

The hits come fast and hard, he stops after three. Nine total for the lesson. The crimson liquid beads quickly before sliding down her arm. A sanguine trail in its wake, she refuses to look at the wound inflicted onto her. 

“Go. prepare for bed,” she does not argue.

~

Anastasia sits on her perfectly made bed, corners tucked, pillow straight. A thin cover of pale pink separates her freshly showered body from the forgiving softness of the mattress underneath. 

Everything in Anastasia's life was like her bed. Perfect, presentable, straight laced and tidy; Yet, hiding something just beneath the surface.

She glances at her injured wrist for the first time that evening.

"Well, I assume it could be worse,” 

She slowly begins to do a shabby job at patching herself up, attempting to minimize the possibility of scarring. She pauses to put on a Schumann record, one of the 5 pieces of folk music begin with a slide crackle. A sign of her disregard for the fragility of the vinyl.

As the eloquent cello music trickles in one ear and out the other, she tucks the last bit of bandages away. Returning to her forgiving bed once more, she all but collapses into it. Completely exhausted from the day of rigorous training she endured.

“All I have to do is pass the entrance exam. Maybe father will be easier on me,” attempting to reason with herself, even if she does not truly believe it. 

Unable to tuck herself beneath the thin sheets, sleep overtakes her quickly.

~

The small silver alarm clock marks 7 am with its song, full of dissonance and no resolution. A manicured hand slaps down in a rough ungraceful manner, silencing the item until the next morning. Crawling off the bed reluctantly, Anastasia readies herself for the day. 

A graceful ankle length, long sleeve, off the shoulder dress. Forest green to compliment her auburn hair, to hopefully make her dull sage eyes brighter. Hair pulled into a perfect bun at the base of her neck. Delicate pearls adorn her collar and ears, a gift from her late grandmother.

She makes her way to the dining table, egg whites and asparagus on her plate, waiting for her.

“Are you ready for your exam, dear?” Ardelia Hearst doesn't even spare a glance at her daughter, continuing to gracefully sip white grape juice.

“Yes mother, I expect to be top 3 if not first,” Anastasia doesn't even attempt to garner her mothers full attention.

Richard snaps his eyes onto her.

“Why would you settle for anything less than first,” he states, his stare hardening into a glare.

She immediately pales, her mistake dawning on her.

He stands, making his way towards her when he is stopped by his wife.

“Now dear, you don't want her shaking during her performance. Punish her when she returns if you must,”

He considers her words for a moment, before returning to his seat.

“Eat. or you’ll be late,” 

Her mothers kindness doesn't go unnoticed as she finishes quickly, thanking the butler and her parents before heaving her cello onto her back. With one last glance she proceeds out the door.

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