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Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine	By : lilwitch Category: +S through Z > Street Fighter Views: 3420 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: WARNING: Graphic violence and abuse depicted in this story. Read at your own discretion! I do not own Street Fighter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
DISCLAIMER:
This story contains content of a highly disturbing psychological nature that may be offensive to some readers: including but not limited to abuse, rape, and torture/violence. Please DO NOT read if you are likely to be offended!
STREET FIGHTER and characters such as Vega & Remy are owned by CAPCOM. I own all original characters. I make no profit in this work of fiction. For entertainment only.
Once in her room, she began to pace. My fury had not died down and nor had my confusion.
"What are you doing? We can't stay!" I exclaimed. "Why must you always stay?"
"Vega, you don't understand." she replied, continuing to pace. She did not even look at me. It was very unusual for her pace—it was mostly my sort of thing—but for her to pace, I could not even imagine how upset she must have been.
"So tell me." I implored, trying to be patient. Mother sighed but said nothing. I watched her pace and continue to ignore me. My blood boiled.
"Fine!" I snapped, "I can't believe we're not leaving! You're always so selfish! He's evil, Mother, but you won't listen. You tell me you love me and you won't listen! You like it, don't you? That has to be it, because it's the only way you married father! Is that what you want? You want him to abuse you too?"
"How dare you speak to me this way! I am your mother, por Dios!"
"You've become his slave. You can't see what is right in front of you, Mother. You never could. You know, I never wanted to believe what Father said about you; that you're nothing but a whore who will spread her legs for anybody to get what she wants...except me. You don't care about what I want, what I need."
"Enough!" she yelled, whirling around and facing me. Her eyes were flashing with such anger I had never seen. I wondered if she was going to smack me for my insolence, but she did not.
"We will stay until we can get some passports. It will take some time but Marc Antoní can get us some. Only then are we leaving, do you understand?" I swallowed and nodded. "And don't you ever talk to me that way again!"
I was taken aback by her abruptness but I was becoming used to her changes ever since we came. Little by little, I saw her becoming strong again. Her fear was gone and all that seemed to be left was woman living life to the fullest.
I sighed and left the room. There was no dealing with her at that moment.
"Vega, mon ami, are you alright?" said Remy, stopping me at the top of the stairs.
"I'm fine..." I said, not willing to talk about it. "Look, I'm sorry we won't be leaving yet,"
"I know. It's okay. I didn't expect it work anyway."
I smiled wryly at him and continued down the stairs.
The air hung thick with my mother's rose perfume and with tension. Neither one of us spoke to each other for the rest of the day, making quite an awkward dinner that night. Marc Antoní sat back and observed the situation with his smugness, though he did not say a word. He seemed pleased about it, though and that irritated me. Still, on my way to bed that night, I knew we would not be able to sleep being angry so I decided to apologize for my outburst earlier, not knowing that my life would change forever...
I approached her door and saw it was cracked open but I could hear my mother talking. I peeked closer to see her with Marc Antoni. I watched as her silken nightgown slid down her body to silken heap at her feet. I watched as Marc Antoni crushed her against him in a passionate kiss and suddenly, she drew away.
"Marc Antoni, I can't-"
"Victoria, mi amor, what's wrong? Do you know how long I've waited for you? How I've wanted to hold you..."
"No, we can't. It's been too long."
"That's exactly why we should! Do you know long I've waited to hold you, touch you?"
"I-I can't."
"And why not? You're safe now."
"I can't, not now, not anymore. I loved you once, as I loved Alberto, but..."
"You know he gave his blessing."
"Yes, but I would be betraying-"
"Who? Who would you be betraying, Vicki? Miguel is dead. I hated him with a passion even when he was alive, and he's not even the boy's real father! He's not worth your loyalty."
"Vega does not know that. He never has; he believes Miguel to be his father. Vega and I have a bond, a sacred bond. I could never risk destroying that."
"Don't be stupid, woman! Your boy has nothing to do with our love."
"He has everything to do with it! If-if you and I were together, he would never forgive me."
"Well, I'm certainly not going to be his father and besides, he doesn't need to know."
"And I'm not asking you to be! But I'm not sure I could keep it from him. Please-"
"I don't care!" he said, kissing her deeply. I could hear her muffled pleas and he kissed her so hard, I thought he might bruise her. She pushed him off but he continued to kiss on her neck with the same passion as on her lips.
"No! My son...Vega, he-he needs me."
"Ay, por el amor de Dios, woman! Vega is a grown boy. No boy of his age needs his mother that much-" And suddenly, he burst into a chilling, wry laughter. "Yes, I see now. You need him—no—you want him! I've done some depraved things in my life but not that. I mean, I suspected it when you arrived here, but I never imagined..."
A flush crept across her face and she balled her fists. "How dare you!" she fumed, "I love him and-and if you can't accept that, then I guess you're not worthy of me!"
"And what do you think poor Alberto—God rest his soul—" he crossed himself, "What do you think he'd think of all this, hm?"
"Don't you dare speak of him like that!"
"I'll do as I please, Victoria! You may have stopped me in front of your son, but I see no reason why I have to now."
"I love Alberto, you know that!"
"What does it matter? Vega is more your husband now than he ever was." she slapped him.
He grabbed her shoulders, pinning her to the wall, kissing her violently. He broke the kiss, their lips reddened and panting.
"Truth burns, doesn't it?" he hissed through his teeth. "Do you want him? Do you? Tell me you do, and I'll leave."
"No! Please! Please, don't do this to me." she sobbed. "I thought of all people, you would understand!"
"You're mine, Victoria. Mine! And I won't be outdone by any man...or boy." I could hear him growl and he kissed her again. Mother sobbed, her whimpers muffled in his kiss. Once more, she broke away from him, catching her breath.
"No! I...can't..."
"You're thinking of him, aren't you? God you're sick, Victoria...you whore!" Marc Antoní chuckled with feigned disgust and continued to kiss on her neck.
"If Vega only knew about his beloved mother. Do you think he'd still love you if he knew you were such a whore?" he snickered. "Maybe we should call him in here..."
She gasped and slapped him, and he grabbed her hand.
"You keep slapping me! You're forgetting that the pain only turns me on more."
He released her and she sank to her knees, covering her face in her hands. She sat there, a sobbing, shivering heap and she screamed at him.
"Get out!"
I had no time to react as he burst out the door. I blocked his exit down the stairs and with a grunt, he pushed me away.
"Mother!" I cried as I burst in her room. "What's going on? Who's Alberto? What do you mean that the man you married is not my father?"
She drew her nightgown against her chest and scrambled to her feet. My head pounded, my body burning. I watched the panic and shock spread across her face, her once reddened cheeks now a pale white.
"W-What? What do you mean?" she stammered, creeping across the room towards her changing screen. "Vega, why do you look at me like that? Vega?"
I could not answer, my words choked by the anger rising in my throat.
I drug the chair from the desk that was in the corner of the room to the door and laid it beneath the doorknob. No one would interfere with the truth now—not Marc Antoní, and certainly not her.
I grabbed her, flinging her onto the bed, and climbing over her, pinning her wrists above her head, her nightgown skewed across her body.
"Vega! Please!" she cried.
"Why didn't you tell me, Mother? Why?" I hissed, wedging my knee between her legs.
"Let me go, Vega!" she cried, thrashing around in my grasp. "You-you wouldn't understand!"
"How could you do this to me?" my normally well-kept hair fell in golden waves into my face, my braid loosening with each movement I made.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" I asked and she looked down. "Were you?" I shrieked. I grabbed her by the wrist and threw her from the bed. She landed against the side of it with a yelp, pulling herself up on her arms.
"I was going to tell you! Someday when it was safe!"
"When it was safe? You were never going to tell me, were you?" I hissed, standing in front of her. "Were you?" I roared, my voice rising out from the depths of my fury.
She covered her head and drew up into a ball.
"I could never lie to you, never!"
"My whole life is a lie, Mother." I growled, pacing before her huddled figure.
My voice softened for the moment, my voice almost strained to the limit. "You were the most beautiful and pure woman I have ever known—my goddess—I worshipped you! I trusted you more than anyone else..." She peeked out from behind her arms.
"But now I see. You've never cared about what was important to me. You manipulated me just like you have everyone else."
"No, you don't understand!" she cried. " Everything I have done I have done for you, my love. It was beyond my control."
"Everything? If you really loved me, you would have left the man you say isn't my father...and if you love me now, you'll tell me who my father really is."
"I was always going to tell you, Vega. Your cruelty is unnecessary."
"You lied to me and broke my heart and I'm the one being unnecessary?" I hissed.
"I had no choice! I never wanted to lie or to hurt you. I would die before I hurt you."
I walked towards her and she ran to the other side of the bed, trying desperately to put some space between us.
"No, Vega! Please!"
I cornered her and I grabbed her by the wrist, slamming her against her vanity and the back of her head crashing against the mirror. She screamed and pieces of glass fell like silver glitter into her hair; I watched the spider web of cracks appear around her head like a halo.
"Would you die for me, Mother? Would you?"
I picked up a large shard of glass, pointing at her throat. Mother trembled and I could smell her rose scent, the fine muscles of her neck twitched, her delicate blue veins pulsing. Even as she cowered before me, I felt no satisfaction. Her mouth quivered, trying to form the words I wanted to hear, though I had no doubt she would have died for me that night—one way or another.
"You know I would..." she swallowed, "I would do anything to save you from the pain you are feeling now, but hurting me won't help..." she looked into my eyes, "even if you enjoy it."
My nostrils flared, and I released my grip on her.
"I'm so tired! I'm tired of this place! I'm tired of him! I miss my food, I miss our home, I miss the bed we shared..." and turned away from her, "I wish we could go back to how it was."
"Before or after you killed your father?" she said, though my first instinct would have been to accuse her of being snide, instead her tone was plain, matter-of-fact.
"He's not my father and you know it! I'm tired of these games, I'm tired of your lies, Mother!"
The adrenaline coursed through my body, like the bitter vitriol that consumed me.
My jaw set, my fist clenched, every muscle in my body twitched with the need to hurt her, and I mustered all of my resolve to restrain myself. I swallowed hard, boring into her soul with all of my anger, all of my hatred of what she had done.
I turned away, steeling myself as much as I could to not look at her pitiful state. "I don't want to hear another word from your lying mouth." I growled, slamming the door behind me.
I went to my own room, which still felt so strangely colder than hers. I knew the temperature was not to blame. It may have been an older house but it was kept well.
Slamming my door, I stood silently against it. I could hear her soft footfall and I knew she was there but she did not speak. I heard a soft bump and figured she must have been sitting with her back against it. I was mostly amazed she had not started a torrent of hysteric screams, begging me to open the door. The sinking heaviness I felt inside told me that something was different, much different than before. I chewed my lip in thought and I felt an urge to open the door, but I resisted once again.
For the first time in a long time, I thought about bed and sleeping in it alone. I could not bear the thought of her touch or even being near her at the moment. I felt surely that sleeping in my bed alone, as it should be for a boy my age, was a relief but was it?
"Your father...was a matador..." came her muffled voice.
My heart fell to the floor and I crouched down against the door silently. I put my hand to the door to brace myself and imagined she had done the same.
"Alberto José Luis Vega de Cerna i la Serda. I met him when I was 16 and we fell in love..."
I could hear her voice choking and there was a haunting feeling in the air.
"He saw me that day from the stands in the bullfighting ring, and I knew we were meant to be together. We were married the next year and then...before we knew it, I was pregnant with you. Oh! He was so happy and proud to be a father and prayed everyday for a boy... I-I know that life has been cruel to us, Vega, for you and I are cursed, cursed and bound by the same fate...and I am sorry..." she was silent a moment, I knew something bad was coming. She continued, "a month before you were born, he was gored by a bull." I could hear her soft sobbing. "He left us, and you, you were all I had, his most precious gift."
I was in too much shock to try and speak. I did not know what to say, but her crying began to tear at me. I knew this could not be the whole story because she had to have a reason for marrying the evil man I knew as my father.
I sat there, listening to her sob. This was not the usual hysteric crying to which I was accustomed—it was softer, weaker. A chill went down my spine; Mother lied to me about all of this and now, I began to doubt myself. Truly, she must have known this day to come and, like a bull to the slaughter, she gave me the last of her truth.
Reaching up, I opened the door and she fell into my arms, the sobbing mess that she was.
Against all my instincts, all of my emotions, I held her, uncertain of what to do. I felt the softness of her nightgown pressing against me, her body heaving. It was like all of the times before—except it was not.
She sat up, wiping the tears from her face and looking at me.
"I'm sorry, I am so so sorry." she touched my face, peering helplessly into my eyes.
"I-I know you are, Mother." I said, taking her hands from my face.
"I was so afraid I'd lose you..." she replied, clinging to my shirt and laying her head against my chest. "Do you...do you still love me?"
I looked down at her, still uncertain of what to say. I loved her, of course, but the ache of distrust tore at my heart. I said the only thing I could say.
"Yes, of course I love you. You're my mother." she looked up at me tearfully, her eyes questioning me. "But I can't forgive you. I can't trust you."
She began to sob once more, soaking my shirt. She wrapped her arms around my neck and laid her head against my chest.
"I told myself that you would be angry. I knew this day would come and that perhaps you would react this way. I-I knew I should be strong...but I-but I can't bear it! What can I do to prove myself to you? What can I do?" she stammered.
I shook my head and she wailed. This was the woman I knew, this woman, my mother who broke down in tears when nothing went her way.
"I will do anything! Anything to make you trust me again!" and she reached up with her trembling fingers and kissed me; it was the most tender and loving of all kisses with such desperate passion and yet it burned my lips. She was like a dying fire fighting for her last spark and I could not bear her touch. She poisoned me with each plea, each caress.
"Tell me the truth."
"Please! I love you more than anything—more than anyone—with every fiber of my being. We're soul-mates, you and I. Bound by blood, by fate. Our pain has created a love deeper than anyone will ever know. We belong together—isn't that enough? Isn't it enough that I have bled and sacrificed myself for you time and time again?"
"It's not enough." the anger and bitterness burned in my mouth. "It's never enough."
She laid her head on my shoulder.
"Vega..." she moaned mournfully. "Everything we've been through! All of it...and it's not...enough?" I was overwhelmed by my bitterness again.
"You let us suffer. You married a monster and now I discovered that I lived a miserable life that I didn't have to have. You kept things from me that could have changed that...and now...I can't trust you, but I want to."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Glossary:
mon ami- My friend (French)
mi amor - my love (Spanish)
por el amor de Dios- For the love of God! (Spanish)
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Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine