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I Hate You, I Don't	By : GrimmUlquigrrrl Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ulquiorra Views: 1287 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Ulquiorra hated owing people. He owed the people who saved him, he owed the man who untied him, he owed the woman who et him cry against her shoulder in the ambulance, he owed the surgeon who stopped the internal bleeding, he owed the nurses who were helping him recover, and he owed his mother.

His mother. A woman he hadn't seen since he was four. But here she was, abandoning her life wherever she had been before, paying for his surgery and moving to this own and finding a job. In a way, he owed her the most. In a way, she was the one he most hated owing.

Not, of course, that he had any intention of detailing this to his new therapist-the third one he'd gone through in the past two weeks. Each one gave up, saying that perhaps a different personality type would be better able to open him up, but in truth they just didn't want to deal with him and his secular silence any longer.

"So, Ulquiorra, anything new in the past few days?" Dr. Redbird asked. Truthfully, she was a kind woman. Ulquiorra felt almost guilty for having to dupe her.

"Not in particular," he answered.

"And how is your healing going?"

"On schedule." And oh, was he thankful for that. He was finally out of the hospital, having cleared an infection and gone through a small portion of his physical therapy. He had severely ripped his abdominal wall, as well as rupturing his intestines in two places and bruising several other internal organs, but he was finally on the mend. He was able to go back to school on Monday, as long as he stayed on crutches.

"How many people are aware of what happened?" he asked, trying to gauge the kind of peer-related issues he would have upon his imminent return.

"Your school announced over the loudspeaker that you were severely injured but didn't say why," Dr. Redbird said. "Are you worried about people asking you?"

"Not particularly," Ulquiorra intoned. Dr. Redbird gave him a look.

"Are you sure about that, Ulquiorra?" she asked. "It would be perfectly natural for you to have some anxiety over what to say to your peers, as well as how they would react."

"No one will directly confront me, therefore it is of no consequence," Ulquiorra said.

"No one will ask you?" Dr. Redbird repeated. "Do you not have a good relationship with the others at your school?"

"I do not have relationships," Ulquiorra answered.

"Okay, let's talk about that," the doctor said, crossing her legs and sitting back into her chair. "So you don't have any friends?"

"Why would I want them?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Why not?"

"In case you had forgotten, Doctor, I am a high school student. I have no desire to spend my time around my immature peers any longer than the hours of school dictate."

"I see," Dr. Redbird hummed, jotting something down on her clipboard. "So you're saying that other teenagers aggravate you because of their lower intellect."

"Yes."

"So you consider yourself above them?"

"Naturally."

"That's quite narcissistic, Ulquiorra."

"It's not narcissistic if it is a fact. I have a higher intellect and maturity level, therefore those who are significantly below me are unpalatable to me. This is true of all people who are forced to cohabit with imbeciles."

"Does this outlook cause you problems? Do you have any enemies?"

"A number of them," Ulquiorra said.

"And has anyone ever confronted you, physically or verbally?"

"On occasion, but not often anymore. Not physically since the sixth grade." Ulquiorra carefully left out mention of Jaegerjaques, who confronted him physically at least once a day. The good doctor did not need to know this, or that if anyone would take advantage of his injured state it would be that blue-haired ruffian. He could easily handle that himself, despite his physical limits at the moment.

"What happened in the sixth grade?"

"I young man attempted to punch me and I punched him back," Ulquiorra said. "I broke his jaw, and he was unable to speak for several weeks while it was wired shut."

"Do you feel any remorse for injuring him?"

"Why should I? I was merely defending myself."

"That's a little brutal for a sixth grader, don't you think? Normally someone so young would have a moral compass that would lead them to feel at least some guilt."

"Are you presuming that I have no moral compass?"

"Not at all, only that necessity has hardened you to it. What do you think has made you that way?"

"We both know the answer to that," Ulquiorra said.

"I want you to say it," Dr. Redbird insisted. "Have you ever said it aloud before?"

"No," Ulquiorra said.

"You need to. You'd be surprised what just saying it will do, even if you know it internally. This is a safe place." Ha. That was amusing. After all, Ulquiorra knew that this pleasant woman was hired by the state to evaluate his mental scars, which were his own to handle. Anything he said could and would be used against him. The only safe place was inside himself.

"I was hardened by six years of sexual abuse," Ulquiorra said. He was surprised by the almost hitch he found in his voice as he said it; how strange. It quickly passed, and he thought nothing more of it.

"Good," Dr. Redbird said gently. "Say it again."

If Ulquiorra were that kind of person, he would have rolled his eyes. "I said it once, is that not enough?"

"No," Dr. Redbird replied, "but we can stop for now if you want. What else do you want to talk about?"

"I have nothing of interest to say," Ulquiorra told her.

"Nothing? What about your mother?"

"She's fine."

"How are you liking the new apartment?"

"Well enough."

"Do you have any pets?"

"None."

"You may want to consider getting one. Animals can be very good for trauma."

"I'll mention it."

"What are you doing to keep yourself occupied while you recover?"

"Sudoku, mostly. I watched a few movies. I read books."

"What movies have you seen?"

"Life of Pi and Les Miserables."

"Did you like them?"

"Neither one was as good as the books."

"You mentioned you like to read. What are you reading right now?"

"The Great Tree of Avalon, the first book in the trilogy."

"And what's that about?"

"It's based in a mythological world known as Avalon, which is a giant tree planted by the wizard Merlin. The first book, at least, occurs in the root-realms, of which there are seven, and there are creatures such as eaglefolk and mud makers. There are three main characters, an eagleman and two humans, and one of them must be the Child of the Dark Prophecy who will destroy Avalon as it is known. They seek Merlin's true heir, who is the only one able to stop the Dark Child. It's quite the adventure story."

"And fantasy story, it sounds like," Dr. Redbird smiled a little, and Ulquiorra realized the amount of zeal she had pulled from him on the topic of books. "You seem like you really love reading. It fantasy your usual fare?"

"Yes," Ulquiorra said. "That and mythology."

"That's very typical of people who have difficult lives," Dr. Redbird said. "Reading, especially reading of the fantastical, provides an escape from the hardships you face on a daily basis." Ulquiorra didn't bother telling her that she was looking too far into his reading choice; he merely enjoyed fantasy. "What other books do you greatly enjoy?"

"The Lord of the Rings series,as well as The Hobbit," Ulquiorra said. "Dragon's Milk and the rest of its series, Harry Potter, Riptideand Darklife, The Longlight Legacy series, and a few others."

"Excellent escapes."

"Excellent books," Ulquiorra corrected. "I also believe that we are out of time." Dr. Redbird glanced at the clock, deflating. Ulquiorra felt for her. For the first time she was getting Ulquiorra to speak on something, even if only his favorite books, and here times was up.

"Alright," she said heavily. "Just one more question. Are you noticing any symptoms of post-traumatic stress? Sudden anxiety attacks, jumpiness, nightmares?"

"None," Ulquiorra said.

"See you next week," Dr. Redbird said as Ulquiorra stood.

"Yes."

~!~

It was all pain. Everything that was and wasn't, everything light and dark, everything there and not there, all of it was pain. It was a constantly growing burn that spread in his bones, his marrow, his ligaments and arteries, and he screamed.

Fists and feet pummeled him from all sides, eery echoes of malicious laughs rattling around. All he could see was black, the blackness of death, but he wasn't dead. No, he was still alive, still suffering. He couldn't anticipate the blows, couldn't see them coming, they made no sound as they came towards him. He was lost, so lost, and everything was pain.

The panic rose like a waterline inside him, so quickly engulfing him. And still the hands and feet knocked the breath from him, broke his bones, bruised his organs. Pain, it was all pain. There was no refuge. He could feel it so acutely. He wanted to die.

A chuckle in the darkness. His father. His heart seized up. He screamed. But no one could hear him.

He opened his eyes and all he saw was black-but not the blackness of death. No, this was the blackness of a darkened room. He could see the patterns made on the ceiling by the light coming through the blinds. His heart raced his lungs, and his stitches ached. He was alive. He was awake.

Slowly the panic trickled out of him, and he took stock of the situation. Had he shouted? Had he woken his mother? He listened intently, but nothing stirred in their small apartment. A quick glance under the blanket proved that his thrashing had ripped some of his stitches from his flesh. He was bleeding. He lay back.

When would it have ended? How long would he have taken to die? Why was he still alive? But he knew why. Someone had picked up a phone and saved him, and he didn't know who. But he would find to.

There was one more person he owed.
- 5
- 6
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I Hate You, I Don't