Milky rays of iridescent light slipped pallid fingers through the open window, its chilling touch illuminating all it caressed and casting an ivory shadow of its essence upon everything it embraced. The night held a certain beautiful sorrow, a tangible melancholy that was present in the breeze as it swept amid the trees below andbrushed sheen white curtains aside to reveal the auric orbs that looked beyond panes of glass.
It seemed nothing had changed since her time in Hueco Mundo; the world carried on without pause or care as to her entrapment. Orihime did not know whether the fact frightened her or brought immense relief though neither seemed appropriate for her to relish in. A soft hand rose to brush a few locks of fiery strands from her face, fingers tenderly pushing the silky waves behind one ear.
The sight of the moon should have brought horrid memories of a forsaken structure swallowed by miles of sand, its every room and crevice housing a different monster as though it were an arsenal for childhood nightmares. However, it did not bring forth those feelings that would have been easily understandable. In fact, Orihime only felt lonelier standing alone in the small apartment she once called home.
The young woman was not deaf to the silence that clung to the air and made it that much harder to find solace within the walls she decorated so carefully with pictures of she and her friends. After returning to the human world once all the Arrancar had either been captured or defeated, her friends had welcomed her back with a slight distance the female continuously felt even then, their eyes gauging her white clad form with the taint of guarded apprehension, their usual warmth snuffed out like the flame of a candle.
It appeared that there were some who considered that by her not fighting against their common foe and not seeking aid from their allies, it meant she had sided with the enemy, a betrayal Orihime found too horrifying to comprehend.
She, a traitor?
The thought was impossible for the fiery haired girl had done nothing but try her best to fight alongside her friends and childhood love, healing them whenever they were wounded and shielding them from dangerous blows. She shed more blood, sweat, and tears attempting to save their lives more so than she ever had before in the entirety of her years since crowning from the womb.
It felt insulting, degrading even that she was lowered to the same integrity as the demons that tortured her both mind and soul. Another push from the wind had her grasping the edge of her nightgown, the white material complimenting the allure of white skin. The young woman had changed immensely in the last few months. The customary merriment she once wore proudly on her lips had been lost to the hands of a madman and eroded into a pile of dust swept away by the squall.
Green eyes continued to haunt her night and day, baritone voice calling out from an obscure sea of memory. It was a grim attempt to forget Hueco Mundo when its most constant ghost roamed the halls of her ribs, skeletal fingers reaching out through the cage of bone to grasp at compassion.
'I understand now,' his words echoed excessively in her ears, painting her dreams in shades of a hue she was afraid to speak of.
Ulquiorra…his very name was a flavor most bittersweet tingling at the tip of her tongue but she dared not call out for fear that someone may catch her. At the very end, Orihime had gotten him to understand. He finally knew what it meant to put another being before yourself and be willing to lay down your life so they could have one more moment.
The knowledge of her triumph should have brought happiness; the stoic captor was gone and he could no longer bare down that intense emerald gaze, eyes tearing away the innocence of her flesh to expose the nature of her soul until she stood as nothing more than a child before him. Nonetheless, the red headed lady was not joyful of this.
No. She felt responsible for his sudden demise.
It was her hands that had healed Ichigo so he could rise to defeat the espada number four. It was her voice that had desperately called out for the hot-blooded teen to come save her. Ulquiorra's death and the abrupt loss of Ichigo's powers were her fault and hers alone.
A plump lip trembled slightly in effort to hold bitter tears at bay, auric vision becoming hazy like ripples atop a water's surface. There was a truth to the part she played in that heinous game of life and death and it was enough to eat away at her insides, the guilt snapping at her ankles with glutinous mouth and hungry teeth.
Why had she not saved the winged creature before he turned to ash? Why had she not grasped out sooner to catch his pale fingers in her own and beg him not to leave?
The rivers of torment that ran through her veins tugged like rip tides at her heart, right and wrong turning gray with no anchor to steady it from leaning towards one side more than the other. It only allowed her to sail into the open sea of confusion with no land in sight. Rosy lips parted slightly in surprise as the sudden taste of salt invaded her palate, a shaky hand rising from its grip on thin fabric to catch wandering tears from falling off her chin.
Wide eyes watched it pull away, skin damp and glistening with moisture from the seed of her sorrow. The pain felt hot against her outer shell even with the artic chill that had taken place deep within her bones since returning to the realm of the living.
'Tears are a weakness I care not for,' he spoke to her in whispers, the image of Ulquiorra's stoic form standing before her the day she had spewed her speech about love conquering all and friendships lasting forever.
It did not tear her down the way it once had. Essentially, it brought a sick sense of comfort that caused her lips to quirk slightly, eyes closing to allow the tears blurring her vision to escape beyond the looking glass and to slide down porcelain cheeks.
She had defended love so strongly in that moment hence it was the first time the petite female had spoken rashly to the espada charged to her upkeep. Her gaze had begged him to fathom the meaning behind her perseverance, the fire that kept the light in her eyes from dying out. It seemed so tedious now for Orihime no longer stood by the words she had powerfully articulated, sturdy in her beliefs and naïve to the world crumbling around her like sand castles at the lip of the shore.
Turning away from the open window with a sigh, auric irises immediately shifted over to the mp3 player laying on top of the nightstand beside her bed, pink headphones plugged into the jack.
Music had been the element that had distracted her mind the utmost, the sounds of instruments putting her thoughts at ease and the lyrics revealing all the emotions she kept hidden. It was the girl's consistent companion on the walks home from school, the weapon that broke the shield she placed around herself. Not even Tatsuki acted the same around her and the piercing knowing that swam in her gaze whenever she looked at Orihime only made the guilt stronger, the jaws of it more powerfully clamping down with an unforgivable force.
How she wished she could tell her dearest friend the horrors she had faced; however, the amber eyed woman knew it was impossible. Tatsuki remained oblivious to the trials the angel had been faced with and the girl could not bring herself to face the onslaught of questions the revelation would bring.
How could she part her lips to speak of the regret she felt towards her kidnapper's death?
It would only support the rumors of supposed betrayal on her part and that was not something Orihime thought she could handle. Seeing the look in Tatsuki's eyes at that moment…it would surely end their friendship.
Petite feet thudded lightly against the floor as she moved towards the nightstand, picking the mp3 up and plugging each headphone into her ears before flopping onto the comfort of the mattress.
'No one can ever know,' she thought as she rested a hand atop her chest, palm directly above where her heart resided.
'They can never know how badly I want to take it back…'