Okay, guys, it's been a while since we wrote something new, so it's about time we started something new. Neways, here's your prologue and chapter one. Standard disclaimers apply.

She screamed, her head hitting the hard pavement as the rain splashed down around them. As if the sky was mourning.
The rough hands were on her again, holding her hands against the rough concrete and a gruff voice threatened her life as a blade was pressed against her side.
She screamed for help and her cry was cut short by the hard slap to her face.
She stared up at the angry, drunken, red eyes above hers. "Shut up whore. I'll have my leave with you." The man hissed, his voice a drunken slur. She could smell the whiskey on his breath as he stole a kiss from her.
She struggled against him, and he drew back.
"Please..Leave me alone!" She begged, trying to get away. The drunk stole another kiss, and his hand was under her skirt, clawing at her panties.
She kicked him, hard. Knocking the drunk off of her.
She scrambled away, running toward the alley that the drunk had dragged her through. Her eyes caught on a man on a red suzuki, white hair spiled down his back, a black helmet shielded his face and head. he was looking at her.
"Please..Help me!" She cried as her face met the hard concrete again, and the drunk was on top of her again. Her world spun violently. The heavy weight of the drunk was lifted off of her, and she saw black riders boots and heard a warm voice before the world blacked out.

He growled. Soemthing was wrong. He had stopped suddenly because a kid had lost his ball and had run out into the road. Work had gone horrible. Miroku had wanted him to be in a gay coupling and he had refused. So he had went out to bike. Some punk named Kouga took his prize on a technicality, and he was on his way home when the kid had run out into the middle of the road and he had to nearly tear the back tire off Tetsuaiga. Then a scream caught his sensitive ears over the soft roar of the bike and he cut it off to better hear. Suddenly a homeless woman, maybe nineteen, stumbled out of the alley. She was screaming for help. Then a black haired drunk tackled her from behind and she was dazed.
"You're mine, whore." the drunk hissed. Inuyasha just had the urge to stretch his claws. He pullled Tetsuaiga into the mouth of the alley, jamming the keys into his pocket. He kicked the man off of the girl, the bloodied mess flyimg back into the wall, to slide down unconsious to the ground.
He knelt beside the girl, placing a clawed hand on her neck. "Are you okay?" He asked, before she went limp under his hand.
"Damn." he cussed, sighing, he rolled the girl over and found a long, deep gash in her forehead. the beginnings of bruises spanned her arms and her shirt was cut open. Glancing over at the spot where the man had flown, he found the spot empty. Resisting the urge to track the bastard down, he picked her up and walked down the alley. He lay her limp form over the seat, placing her tennis shoe covered feet carefully on the pedals before mounting the bike himself. He rode slowly, in the pedestrian lane so that a passing car couldn't knock her off. When he arrived at his apartment, he parked inside and carried her up the stairs in his arms. He lay her against the wall to open his door, but when his fingers brushed across her forehead, he was startled. She had a dangerously high fever. He unlocked the door quickly, then carried her inside. Laying her on his bed, he placed ice on her forehead, careful of the still-bleeding gash.
While she lay there, he found the first-aid kit his mother had insisted he keep with him and opened it. He found gauze and medical tape and bandaged her forehead. The bandages were a bit sloppy, but they worked. She was beautiful. And she alomst looked like Kikyou. He concentrated on bringing down her fever. That was the most important thing to do at the moment.
Her eyes opened slightly and she moaned, turning away from the cold ice before blacking out again.
He covered her with more blankets, careful of the bruises on her arms.

Finally, the fever had gone down. He breathed a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding. Closing his eyes, he lay back against the wall and dozed till the sun woke him.
When he stood, she was still asleep. She still had a slight fever, but that was easy to deal with. The light bruises on her arms the night before were purplish blue and getting worse.
He walked out into the hallway, glancing at the still unlocked door. wishing he hadn't let the drunk get away.
He started cooking, and began humming softly to himself the song his mother had sung while she cooked. Before she died.
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She woke slowly, coming out of the numb nothingness of unconsiousness and sleep. The first thing she felt was pain. A splitting migrane that surrounded her forehead. And second, her arms were sore, and it hurt to move anything around them.
she heard a light humming coming from the partially open door. She looked around and found herself startled. This wasn't her little abandoned shack.
She tried to sit up and her arms failed her painfully. Cursing under her breath she lay there. waiting for whoever had taken her in to arrive. The first thing she saw of him was the white hair as he backed into the room.
Memories flashed through her mind of the man on the motorcycle the night before.
He turned and she screamed. Anything she could grab ahold of was thrown at the strange man, at least, until she struck the floor. Then he was above her, his ears twitching. Twitching. like a cat's. She just had to touch them.
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Yes, i'm bored again. Now i'm going to bed. -scarlet.
I am ME -bagby

darkness is an art.