Edward hurt.

The same spot where the bullet had tore through his chest in his previous life burned, and he curled inwards, tears pooling in his eyes. How had he not felt it this way before?

A soft hiss of breath betrayed his pain, his hands clawing desperately at his chest. Any pain was better than this.

Tears started to stream and Ed honestly couldn't bring himself to the usual disgust that normally came with the salty liquid.

His small body spasmed violently as the pain worsened, and his leg connected violently with the wall.

Edward could vaguely hear his fathers familiar footsteps, rushing towards his room, and Alphonse's confused and tired mangle of the word "Brother" before he lost consciousness.

Even in his unconscious state, the pain didn't leave, and he found himself wanting to scream at the unfairness of it all. He just wanted to fix everything, so why did this pain of the past still haunt him so?

The total darkness did nothing to aid the pain, if anything, it seemed to only be a way for the pain to grow stronger.

He tried to scream, to make any sound at all, but his voice was gone, taken by the void. It was torture, pure and simple.

He lost track of how much time went by, knowing only the pain that wracked through his body, forcing the tears out of his tightly closed eyes.

He was aware, however, of his senses slowly returning. He could hear worried voices around him, feel the pressure of something cold on his forehead and chest, smell the strong teas his mother made for when a child was sick, and taste the acidic taste of bile in his mouth.

The pain lingered, but it was fading, coming in long, drawn out pulses now. It was better than the insistent, never ceasing burn that ripped through his very being, however, so he accepted it.

Sight was longer in returning, but when he finally opened his eyes, they were assaulted with burning light. "He's awake!"

The voice he vaguely placed as Pinako's was unclear, fading in and out of focus as he tried to push himself upright. A cool hand prevented him, pushing gently on his shoulders to make him lay back down. He groaned in pain, the movement causing a slight shock of pain to burn through his nerves. This, he thought, was about the same on the pain scale as automail surgery.

"Do you know whats wrong?" He heard his mothers voice ask, in sharper clarity than his friends grandmothers. 

"It's almost as though an old wound were effecting a person, like how automail aches at times and during the rainy and cold months. Except...he shouldn't have any old wounds. He's four, hardly old enough to be able to hold a bucket of water for too long, let alone get the type of injury that would inflict this type of pain." Pinako's voice was quiet, and then a slender but calloused finger prodded at his chest. "I'm going to try and locate the exact source of the pain, if I can do that, we can get him to the doctors if it happens again and have them look at it." She prodded further, moving closer to his heart. 

She had barely pressed down on the pale, sweaty flesh of the place above his heart when the agony burst forth again, and a whimper -it was all he could manage- escaped his mouth, his eyes screwing shut tightly.

Immediately, the hand removed itself from him, and Pinako's voice rang out, this time confused. "The heart...that shouldn't be possible. He's too young for heart attacks or anything of the likes, and to young for any type of injury unless..."

The people of Resembool could be highly superstitious, especially when they had nothing else to prove them otherwise.

Edward didn't catch the rest of the conversation, didn't want to, either, and so he let himself relax, slipping into this time a less fretful and painful sleep.

When he woke next, he was disoriented. It was dark, and he had no way of telling f it was closer to morning or night. His breathing was slow, barely there as he drew shallow breaths.

The burning pain had dulled into a slight ache with every breath, and he found it much easier to move his small body.

Cautiously, he sat up, wincing only slightly at the pain. Shifting, he slid his legs over the side of the twin sized bed he called his own, pushing himself forward til his legs dangled an inch and a half above the floor.

He pushed himself off the edge of the bed, standing and swaying uncertainly as he struggled to regain his balance.

Downstairs, he thought suddenly.

Voices, and ones he didn't know, too.

All signs of weariness were gone now, as he shuffled slowly to the other side of the room where he knew his dad kept a knife.

Grabbing it from its shelf, he crept to the door, opening it with a slight creaking noise.

He froze, waiting. The seconds stretched out as he stood, a statue just waiting to be found.

When almost thirty seconds passed, he slipped into the hallway, knife held low in the classic knife fighter stance.

Strange, he thought, how he missed his automail so dearly right now. The short sword he usually transmuted from it would have been useful, no doubt.

He froze.

Alchemy...he hadn't given it a single thought since the moment he had returned at the moment of his birth.

Now, however, a thought plagued him. Would he be able to use his alchemy? Would it be possible?

He had given up his gate, yes, in the past life anyways but...this wasn't then.

He crept forward, the thoughts whirling around in his head.

He slipped down the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps and smiling wryly to himself.

In his past life, he was never one for stealth.

Oh how the times changed.

Literally.

~1006 words~

I'll leave you off with a slight cliffhanger for this chapter. AwesomeSauceMe Have more Eddo torture! Please leave a vote or comment if you enjoyed, or even PM me with opinions!
Stay creepy, my nightmares!
                                     ~The_Sin_Pride