AN: okay so this story isn't originally Inuyasha, I admit it, but it is still in progress. I think it would be a fun Inufic. This story was written for a contest at my school to see what students are eligible for a writer's conference where we get to meet authors from all around. I hope I get picked! Thus I hope you guys really enjoy this story!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
Chapter one
My black converse clad feet crossed the threshold of what was to be my new home. Most of the windows were boarded up and thick layers of dust coated every inch of the place. White linen sheets covered the furniture that had been left behind from the previous owner's ages ago. The oak flooring creaked beneath my feet and I had a fleeting thought to why there was no carpet anywhere in the house. Half paying attention to where I'm going, I let my feet guide me through the front hall to the dining room. There was an ancient grandfather clock in the far corner that clanged on the wrong hour and an empty bird cage set up next to it, which was covered as if an obnoxious bird was still present. The walls were like a frame for the dining table in the middle, accenting it with paintings and carvings.
The study was next on my unguided tour of the quaint mansion. This house is so different from the shack we're coming from, but why do three people need a mansion? Seriously, there was a library, seven bedrooms with connecting bathrooms, a day room, a lounge, a full bloom garden in the back, and tons of uncharted territories. It was an unnecessarily large hotel for three quiet, lonely, and miserable people.
Seattle, Washington with its rainy weather would be significantly different from their old, humid, Scottsdale, Arizona. That's where we left mom. She died from cancer last year and her death nearly killed the whole family. Everyday after school my brother and I would sit beside her bed, holding her hand as she fought to live with the help of chemotherapy. The treatments didn't work and she left us alone; without the woman who brings us all together. Without her smile the sun would refuse to shine, without her laugh the birds would no longer sing, and without her love there is no point to anything anymore. There is no point for the three of us to even go on in our lives without our hearts that had disappeared with our mother.
I found my way to the grand stairwell that lined the left wall of the front hall. Slim fingers skinned the cedar banister as I climbed up the winding staircase. Each step is like another step into the hollows of my mind. Retreating to the past, the memories where I will find my mom waiting for me to call from a friend's house, to listen to me complain about boys, and to make the world's best sugar cookies play out before my eyes. That's all they are though, just memories that continue to haunt my mind.
On the first floor, the piano at the bottom of the stairs started to play a beautiful melody. It was my younger brother playing mom's favorite song. Bach's 'Air' filled the house with its peaceful rhythm. A sigh escaped my lips as I reached the top step. I watched my brother's swift fingers move across the keys from the railing. My father strolled from an adjacent room to the piano. The loud thud of the key cover echoed from the first level after the music had abruptly stopped. The sea of emotions that came from the memories of her was too much for father still. None of us could deal with it yet, but we couldn't help the thoughts, the wants, or the needs from taunting us.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I heard my brother's soft whimpers and the rustling of clothing as my father pulled him closer in an embrace. I had to step away from the scene playing out before tears poured down my rosy cheeks. Tiny footsteps backwards brought my back against the fern wall paper. My eyes refused to open, to bring me back to this place, this house, this reality. Why was everything so hard to do now that we were on our own? The simplest tasks seem to take the most strength. For instance, breathing, it was as if there was a cotton ball in my throat.
The piano bench scraped against the floor as the two men stood up and reluctantly I opened my eyes to collect myself enough to move forward through the house before I was caught crying about mom. Muffled murmurs from below reached my ears, but I still knew what has being said. The same thing Father always says when he loses control of his emotions, his depression, about mom. A speech about how we all miss her, but it would be easier for us to just try not to think about her. How we need to try and not conjure up ways to remember how wonderful she is… was.
Eventually, I reached the end of the hall and stared at the small drops of water that ran down the panes of glass. A small sigh slipped past my lips again as I turned away from the rain and was about to head back to the main stairs when I noticed one of the doors among the row of closed ones was slightly ajar. Not wanting to return and see my family in pieces, I narrowed my eyes, already forming conclusions of what would lie behind the door. Despite my ridiculous ideas of half dead monsters, there was a narrow staircase that probably led to the attic. A string draped from a dusty light bulb at the bottom step. Stepping inside, I pulled gently on the once white string and light flooded every corner of the thin passageway.
Using my hands against the walls to keep balance, I moved up the steps carefully, not knowing what unworldly things were kept up there. Rain splattered against the roof like a sledgehammer as I reached the top and took in my fill of the undisturbed environment. Surprisingly, it was a tiny room. A small neatly made, dust covered cot was set up against the right wall and a bay window was directly in front of the stairs with a cushion and a few throw pillows. There was even an oak coffee table and two musty looking eggplant colored chairs with a matching couch to the left of the room. This had to be someone's bedroom at one point, but why would someone sleep up here? It was hidden away from the world, up in the attic. Rolling my eyes as a small sarcastic snicker erupted from within me, I walked over to the bay window. I think I answered my own question; this would be the perfect place to hide away from the surrounding reality.
Father had talked about joining clubs or trying out for their tennis team here, to get myself involved during my senior year. I don't think I will be up to that this year without my biggest fan. Sighing, I collapsed into the cloud of dust that drifted up from the padding beneath my body. My hands pressed against the glass, feeling the sharp drop in temperature from cold rain running madly down the sides of the house and over the windows. Tears threatened to spill over the edge of my eyes as if attempting to imitate the rain as memories of what I have lost and what I have left behind persisted to intrude into my mind. Thunder shook the house as my lifeless brown eyes stared out of the window and into the darkness.
Voices echoed through the house calling my name. As much as I wanted to go down and be with my family, my cheeks were stained from the tears pouring down my face and I hoped to keep this place a secret for a while at least. I waited for the footsteps and voices to fade away before I left my perch at the top of the stairs. Slowly, I made my way down the stairs, every floor board creaking from its age plus my weight. I pulled the dangling string at the bottom to be engulfed in the dark. I was about to turn the door knob, when, through the crack under the door, I saw a figure silently move in the hallway. Immediately, I took a step back in shock and almost tripped on the bottom step. Regaining my composure, I opened the door and stepped into the bright hallway to confront them. Silence greeted my ears. Where did they go? There was nothing in the hall, not even the sound of cliché crickets.
When I glanced around, I noticed the two doors on either side of the attic entrance were now wide open. Starting with the door on the end, I walked through and noticed flashes of light from the window. A shorter silhouetted form stood by the window, many boards were nailed across the panes of glass, but there were at least half of the original boards tossed on the floor. The storm was progressing for the worst, lightning appearing in raging flashes and thunder roaring so loud the house shook every time. My little brother stared absently outside at the storm, reminding me of myself only moments ago.
"I heard you up stairs," he told me, all the while staying emotionless and unblinking. A bright flash reflected off his brown puffy eyes, showing how glazed over they really were. "I wanted to give you a moment to let it out without having to get the speech again."
"Thank you, Sota," my voice cracked, not completely over all my tears. I took the few steps across the bedroom to stand next to him. The silence in the room lasted mere minutes before I could speak again. "Where has Father gone?" I gazed at his reflection through the slits among the boards in the window. His features had become harder, void of emotions. It was pointless to even try to remember the last time I had heard his laugh, any of us laugh from enjoyment and not dripping with sarcasm and self-pity. Sota's hair was getting too long; it needed a trim to get it out of his eyes.
"The movers finally showed up," his speech was curt, short, and simple. My eyes closed in memory. He was in seventh grade, middle school; he's supposed to be hyper, happy, and social. But he was none of those things anymore.
"Will this be your room?" the only response I received was a small nod. "I'm gonna assume Father will be on the complete opposite side of the house?" Again, he only nodded. His eyes seemed so far away like he wasn't even listening, but I know deep down he was. This was what he was like at her funeral, his emotional barrier was up and it has rarely gone down since. "Is the room two doors down another bedroom?" He nodded and I decided to leave him alone for awhile and check out what I might choose to be my own room.
Before exiting Sota's room, I glanced back to inspect his room closer. Upon entering there was a narrower section that had a large oak dresser set up between the door and the closet. The closet itself was set into the wall as if it was another room. Around the corner of the closet the room widened to have the queen size bed with a night stand against the wall of the closet. The window which Sota stood at was directly in front of the door on the other side of the room. Next to the window, on the adjacent wall, was a vanity and mirror. On the other side of the window was the desk where he would be able to sit and do his school work. An approving thought flew through my mind.
With one last glimpse at my brother, I traveled to my possible room on the other side of the attic stairs. Within taking my first steps inside, I noticed directly to the right on the adjacent wall was a giant bookcase with a few paperbacks scattered here and there. The king sized bed was set up between the bookcase and a nightstand, which was equipped with a lamp. Inside the room, a nice sized oak dresser was placed in the left corner closest to the entrance of the room. Across from the bed a vanity and mirror sat with beautiful carvings etched into the wood. Straight across from the door there was the window, which had a great view of the garden. It was so much easier to see the backyard from this room then in Sota's. This was because the window was not boarded up here and his room was on the corner of the house. Beside the vanity and next to the window, was a double door closet. Unlike my brother's room, this closet was long, but skinny.
I walked into the room far enough for me to collapse on the edge of the bed, my eyes scanning the room, inspecting every inch. This room would be fine; it was far grander then mine back in Arizona. Although, I'm quite positive that I will be using part of Sota's closet, there is no way I can fit all my clothes in that tight space. Lightning flashed outside the window catching my interest. I stared absently out the window for what seemed like hours watching the rain splatter against the glass.
A heavy cough drew my attention to the door. My father stood with his hand on the door knob and he seemed to look everywhere but at me. I could tell that he was having a hard time just being in my presence. Everyone always said I looked just like my mother when she was younger, identical. Sometimes I can't even look at myself, I can only imagine how hard it is for my father to look at me and see what was lost. I waited patiently for him to speak first. His grip on the door knob was loosening and then tightening, as if in a repetitive rotation. He'd lost a lot of weight since mom had been submitted into the hospital, his cheek bones had become a lot easier to see. That must be why he started growing out a beard, to hide how thin his face had become.
"The movers are here," he said at last, his voice letting on how nervous and awkward things were. "Your stuff is at the bottom of the stairs." He paused as if debating whether to make polite conversation or just end the awkwardness and distance himself more. I watched him silently, watching his inner struggle for a moment before looking back out the window waiting for him leave. The outcome was predictable, as always, he left because he didn't know what to say anymore to me.
I don't know how long I had been sitting there listening to the rain and thunder, but I'm sure I heard my father go into Sota's room and wage the same battle with my brother as well and lose. His heavy footsteps were slow as if he wanted to turn around and run back, but at the same time, to afraid of what he might be faced with.
A light tapping on my door made me snap out of my thoughts. I turned to see Sota standing in the doorframe staring at me with hope in his eyes. It was a slight slip in his guard, and I took the chance. Standing up from the bed, I walked over to him and pulled his skinny body to mine. His arms wrapped around my middle, squeezing me to him. We didn't speak, because words weren't needed. I only hoped he would let his guard slip more often, but that was a high hope.
Pulling back slightly, I looked down at the top of his shaggy dark brown hair. He looked up at me and I gave a small smile of reassurance and he returned the look. We separated and I took hold of his hand, making our way to the grand stairway to retrieve our belongings.
End Chapter One
AN: Please Review if you like this story. Guess who will make an appearance next chapter?! Just wait and see… and review!
Rikku Minouke
2,678 words