Whee!

Shadow holds up a hand-lettered, blue print, very cheap cardboard sign that says ‘I do not own pokemon; it belongs to Nintendo’. Then, she pulls out a laptop that has the following scrolling text on it. ‘This non-profit, non-copyright fanfic belongs to me and I own it under international copyright laws.’ Then, she pulls out a scythe that says ‘Plagiarism will be prosecuted!’

Notes: <> for telepathy, ** for thoughts, italics if a pokemon talks.

Warnings: Alternate Universe, rape, incest, clichés, fanon, Championshipping (Lance x Ash), and all sorts of other dark stuff!

Title: Raven

“See you at school tomorrow, Ash.” Erika waved from the car window as her mom dropped Ash off in front of his house. Ash smiled and waved back, before walking up the asphalt driveway to the door, taking a key out of the chain on his neck and turning the key. No one was home, of course. Uncle Owen was probably still working at the pickle plant and Aunt Linda had left a list of chores to be completed. She was probably out shopping again. It wasn’t as if she ever did any housework. That was Ash’s job.

He heard snores from upstairs, so he assumed that his cousin Dudley was sleeping. Ash left his backpack on his cot and went into the kitchen to see what he needed to do.

Let’s see, vacuuming he could do easily, and he had been fixing dinner since he was old enough. He could not quite remember how old he had been when it had started, but it didn’t matter. Checking the refrigerator, he found that it was well stocked, so he began preparing salad while onions in beef broth simmered on the stove. By six thirty, dinner was ready and the other occupants of the house had returned home.

Dudley scarfed down most of the food instantly, and Aunt and Uncle simply ignored him as he cleaned his plate and went to do the dishes.

Afterwards, he retired back to his room, if it could be called that, to do his homework.

The room was small, perhaps six by eight paces. There was enough room for his cot and a desk, but little else. His clothes were kept in two cardboard boxes and his other possessions did not amount to much. Uncle Owen always said that gifts brought pride and arrogance and there was no way Ash was ever turning out like that. Think of his hotshot father who had crashed a helicopter down over enemy territory and been executed because he’d been too free with the wine and women the night before!

Truthfully, Ash cared nothing for his relatives. They may have taken him in, but they provided the bare minimum of necessities and the slave labor they extracted from his body was not worth the cost it took to feed and clothe him. If not for the fact that he was the one doing the cooking every night, almost, he would have starved, but he had learned, and since he was an expert chef, much to the surprise of all, he kept himself well fed. They never checked on him while he cooked, thank Lugia, so he could sneak as much food as he wished, and he often did.

Besides, he was too old to be spanked now, and that was a relief. The belts had left stinging red on his body and the ruler across the back of his hand had hardly been pleasant either. To adapt, he had learned to fade, to vanish, and to disappear. That way, they only saw him when he did well, and though he brought home straight A’s and his cousin C’s, it was Dudley his ‘parents’ spoiled.

Of course, the fat lump of lard was their biological son, so it must make a large difference.

He was lucky to have Erika. She was a good friend, even if she was a girl and her house always smelled of weird perfume. They ate lunch together every day and protected each other from the schoolyard bullies.

He was waiting until he was sixteen and could officially leave on a pokemon journey. The government allowed all children to leave home at that age. Of course, children of any age could leave with parental permission and a small fee, but the greedy, stingy Jameson’s would never pay that. Oh, he ought not to think so badly of his aunt and uncle, but he was not blind.

He had tried to save up money, but he had a mere seven dollars and eighty-three cents so far. He hardly had free time, and it was not as if he received an allowance, unlike Dudley, who got twenty-five bucks a week and usually blew most of it on candy. What a pig! Still, one day, it would come around. Karma and all that…

If only his mother was alive, but she had drowned when he was three. Whispers said that it was not a suicide, she had been murdered, but the authorities had never found any proof to the contrary. If any of his parents had not been dead, perhaps he could be free of this…

Ash sighed as he collapsed on his cot, having fought his way through the arithmetic. Who knew?

Well, tomorrow was his birthday. Maybe things would be better then.

He secretly made himself a cake with the flour and sugar and butter, mixing the rest into scones that Aunt Linda would devour like a locust, smothered with boysenberry jam. They baked at the same time, and the cake was a small thing, as large as two fists put together coated over with vanilla frosting left over from Dudley’s birthday a month back. He lit candles and blew them out, wishing that his parents were alive or at least someone who cared for him was.

Erika didn’t count. She was a friend, but he wanted family!

He left the scones on plates covered with tin foil, devoured the cake and by the time his relatives woke up, Ash had left. They grunted, made coffee, ate the scones, and left to work. Dudley was late to school again.

Ash kept his secret a smile inside of himself and was almost humming when he walked home after school, Erika having ballet lessons so her mom couldn’t take him home. It did not matter. The exercise was nice and he liked watching the wild Pidgeys in the trees. They seemed so happy.

When he walked in the door, to his surprise he saw that Aunt Linda and Uncle Owen were already home. Uncle Owen was also watching T.V., a very bad sign. What had he done wrong?

“There were six hundred dollars missing from my wallet this morning.” Uncle Owen said deliberately. “Everyone else was still at home. What did you do with my money, you little thief?”

“What?” He almost thought he had misheard.

“How dare you! After everything we have done for you.” Aunt Linda grabbed his arm and smacked him roundly, causing tears of pain to gather in his eyes. “You ungrateful brat! You’ll wish you were dead by the time we’re finished with you!”

“I…I didn’t!”

“Liar! And still lying!” There was a terrible pain as his uncle cuffed him and his vision swam and blurred.

By the time he awoke, it was dark night. He was sore all over, and there was blood and crusted semen between his legs, coating his thighs like a grotesque painting. He knew.

He shakily retraced his steps to his room, quietly, gathered up his articles of clothing and packed them away in his backpack. He didn’t bother to shower, the running water might wake his relatives, but as he left the house, he took all the kitchen knives and everything of value in his Aunt’s purse, including a thirty-dollar Poke Mart gift certificate and her triple-stranded pearl bracelet. He also filled his backpack with several bottles of water and all the instant Red-E-Meal packs he could hold. That done, he left the house quietly, before sprinting down the street and into the woods, not once looking back.

End Chapter 1

Completed 12/20/05

Ash: *chasing author with a big stick*

Phantomness: Angst, but it will get better ^_~

Lance: *Sigh*