Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.
Summery: Somewhere during my drunken sputtering, tears manifested in the corners of my eyes and I realized I'm in love with Inuyasha. It was this thought that hurt me, more than any words he could ever say.
The Sweetest Sin
Initiation to Hell
There is a strange calm that one can feel early in the hours of the morning. When the house is still deep in slumber, the only sound is the faint rustling of leaves from outside my window. I take another drag of my cigarette, inhaling the bitter menthol and tobacco. The experience is somehow less enticing without the threat of discovery. I draw increasingly closer to the filter and the smoke begins to burn the back of my throat. I sigh before smashing the butt onto the sill of my window.
I stand bussing myself with the mundane routine, in order to completely quell any evidence of my misdemeanor. I flush the butt, before thoroughly scrubbing the smell from my hands. Quickly gargling mouthwash I hastily spit back into the sink. The incense candle I had lit earlier was still burning strong; I did not feel the need to extinguish the flame, expanding too much unnecessary effort. I crumpled on to my rickety twin bed wrapping myself inside the warmth of my comforter.
Yes, there was a certain calm that a much too early morning awoke within me.
I had sworn to myself that this would be the last time. There is only so long you can keep telling the same lie until, it crumbles. No matter how many self-help books I've read, no matter how many sessions I attend, I have to admit,
I'm not okay.
Never have been, and never will be again. I may get distracted, I may forget for a moment, but though scars may fade they will never disappear completely, it's a constant reminder of a wrong never to be undone.
My room had a stale look to it this morning. Like the lights in the big mega-stores the florescent lighting that allowed the world to see every imperfection in you. It was late enough in the day to allow for a completely barren household, well in to the days activities. I scurried out of my room and down the stairs. I slammed a note on the kitchen table before hurriedly jamming my feet into an old pair of sneakers and fleeing from the all too cramped apartment closing the door securely behind me and with the satisfying click of the lock I was off.
I hugged the deep green sweater closer to my now shivering form. I was seriously reconsidering the short sleeved black cotton shirt with an almost too plunging neckline I had selected that morning. Clutching the onyx black beaded chain around my neck I trudged on through the dreary haze.
It was just about the time I was cursing my long raven locks for blocking my gaze because of the incisive wind that three things happened simultaneously.
The blinking white walk-sign suddenly turned red.
The leg of my much to long jeans caught a piece of debris protruding slightly from the drainage gate
When, a sleek silver Volvo driver turned his gaze from the street to send a quick text message to his wife concerning her adulterous act with his so-called best friend.
Nothing was in slow motion, like in the movies. Instead everything seemed to gain speed. I could see the shiny silver Volvo charging towards me full speed. It was just before I heard the sickening crunch of that shiny silver Volvo that something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting.
I could feel two large calloused hands wrap securely around my waist.
There was the feel of warm breath by my right earlobe and the weight of another pressed against me before my head crashed against cold pavement.
There is a strange feel, waking up in a place you don't know.
It doesn't last long though, before reality kicks in.
I was laying on my back starring up at the rain as it gently pelted my face. There was an awkward lump under about one half of my body.
My brain seemed to be working in slow-motion. The flurry of excitement enclosed me, shrieks of horror, accompanying the shriek of sirens and the rush of traffic.
It was then that the 'lump' I had been resting against moved.
My head screamed in protest as I turned sharply only to find that my 'lump' was not a lump. My lump was in fact a completely human boy, a completely gorgeous, human boy.
His short bristly silver locks blowing in the wind. He wore a pair of baggy blue jeans a fresh hole starting at the knee blood oozed from a long gash soaking the material.
He rolled out from under me before climbing over me pinning me to the ground. His large yellow sports jacket blew in the light wind. Dangling in the breeze, a sterling silver cross over a sky blue t-shirt.
But what struck me about this boy was his eyes, shocking golden pools of molten lava, bubbling and broiling with emotion.
His lips moved slightly, I starred confused at his model-esc face. His eyebrow twitched in what could have been amusement.
"Oi, dumbass you alive?"