Tales of Another Broken Home
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha or anything related, but you're smart like that… you could've figured it out.
Summary: As a young girl, Kagome knew what it was like to have a broken home. Her father cheated on her mom and abused the whole family. Finally, her mother had the sense to divorce the man. Now that she's about to be married, she doesn't want the same for her and her new life.
Prologue: A Flashback to the Past
…
"Mommy!" a seven-year-old girl cried. "Daddy, stop it! You're hurting Mommy!" She grabbed the arm that struck her mother and pulled with all her might, and no prevail.
He turned to look at her with angry eyes then smacked the young girl with more might than was necessary. She fell to the carpeted floor and grabbed her cheek. Why was her father hurting her mommy? It never made sense to her. She was only seven and her father had always been that way, but it was the first time he had ever hit her.
Tears threatened to escape her pained, brown eyes. "Kagome…" he whispered just loud enough for her to hear. "I didn't mean to…"
Kagome stood up and ran, ran away. Well, what this seven-year-old thought was away. It was just a tree behind her shrine home. She hid behind it, thinking no one would ever find her in this place. It was her sanctuary and only people she wanted in there could enter.
But that was just her imagination. Her father walked into to her sanctuary and disrupted all that she thought was safe. "Go away!" she yelled. "Leave me alone!"
"Kagome—"
"I hate you!" she screamed. "I hate you!" She stood from her half-fetal position with her red, tear-stained face and pushed past him.
He grabbed her wrist as she aggressively walked by. "You don't hate me… you're just angry."
Kagome shook her head and tears fell on his arm. "No, Dad, I hate you. You've never been anything but mean to Mommy and it hurts me. You don't love me or you would just stop it." She pulled her arm away and left her father dumfounded as she walked by.
It all started—the abuse of her mother, that is—about four years ago. He began to drink, a beer here, a Tequila Slammer there. Nothing too bad at first, then it was a twelve pack tonight, a twenty-four pack tomorrow. More and more he drank until his temper got out of control.
Kagome remember the first time he hit her mommy. It was raining really hard and she couldn't sleep with the thunder and all. She left her room on the second floor and walked downstairs. Her father's hand was raised high in the air and it crashed down on her mother's face. She heard the crack of skin on skin. It was as if the whole world stopped making noise just so she could hear the hate in her father's smack. Her eyes welled up and her parents looked at her. Her mother had the handprint of her father's hand on her face. Neither of them wanted little three-year-old Kagome to see the hate between the married couple.
After that day he no longer hid the abuse he inflicted on her mother. He didn't know that he was abusing young Kagome as well. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally.
She had thought about hating her dad, but never said it out loud. Kagome asked her mom if she hated her dad and she had said, "No, I don't hate him. I don't like the way he behaves, but I love him. He loves me, and we both love you."
Those words were the ones she would never forget, but never believe either. Her mommy never meant to lie, and she knew that, even though she was five when she asked, but she knew her dad didn't love either of them. That was when she realized that she didn't love him either. Any one that could be that mean to someone couldn't love them. She never told her mother that, though.
Not until she screamed it. Her mommy heard it then, and Kagome knew she did. Her mommy may love that man, but she didn't. He was no longer a part of her life. No longer did she consider him her father.
She arrived at her mommy's feet with a content look on her face. "Now I know the truth, Mommy, and you don't have to live with him anymore. It can be just you and me and Sota."
Divorce. That was the only way out of this, and even then it was no guarantee. But she was going to try it for her two kids, and herself.
It ended up working and the father taunted by alcohol was no longer in their lives. They were free from him… well almost. Emotional abuse leaves scars just as ugly as physical abuse. He left his mark on his family.
…
So what do you think? My first story… I'm not sure how much updating I'll be able to do because during the summer I'm never home. Between my job and staying somewhere other than home, I'm never here.