Title: Heartbreak II
Author's Notes: Thanks for the comments! Like Oliviax3 guessed, the argument partly involved his mother (i was planning a part 2 just incase). Hopefully, I'll find some time to write a part 3 - i'm kinda busy revising for English SATs cringe
Disclaimer: Bleach is all Tite Kubo's idea, so i don't own Ichigo or Rukia
Words fly at you like daggers,
But you are not able to shield yourself from them.
They come too fast and catch you by surprise.
All you can do is just watch on,
While they hit their mark.
It's almost as if you don't know the one who speaks them,
Like they have betrayed you, and they are showing a part of them
That you have never seen before.
He stands there, knowing that she is watching him from her cupboard. He doesn't want to turn around and meet her eyes, he doesn't want to hear her say that word, sorry. He hates that word – it reminds him of when his mother died, when he spent those many days wondering as if he was lost down by the river bank, repeating that very word over and over and over again. He had so desperately needed to be forgiven for killing her, but despite all of his efforts, he didn't see or hear her once. He had broken his promise to his dad that he would protect her forever.
As a lone tear slowly rolled down his face, he was glad for the fact that she couldn't see his face as his back was turned on her. He rarely showed his emotions – ever since his mother died …
He still can't believe that she said those things. He knows that she can be pretty feisty if she wants to be, but this time it was different to all of the other times. This time she insulted him more that she had to, and it was about something to which she had overreacted way more that usual. Sure, overreaction is her middle name (did she even have one?), but this time she crossed the invisible line – she mentioned something that she shouldn't have.
His mother.
"You can't protect anyone! You just can't listen to what other people say 'cause you're too wrapped up in your own damned world to notice. Yeah, sure you saved me from being executed, but you can't exactly call it saving if the rescuee doesn't want to be! You failed to protect you mother from hollows, and you lived in denial for 6 or so years until I woke you up and showed you the truth – and you still think that you can save anyone you want to? Your mother's dead because you couldn't protect her."
She has hit him deep, clawed open a nearly healed scar, letting fresh blood pour out of the wound. How could she? He thought she knew how difficult it was for him to talk about what had happened. He thought she knew that he had blamed himself for what had happened – and still does. But he had very nearly got over that now, with her help, but the hand that had been helping him up had been snatched away in a second, leaving him to crash down onto the ground once more.
Did she really want to die that badly? Had she really wanted to be executed, even after all of his efforts and all of the things that he and his friends had been through? Was her life really that bad and not worth living? Does she actually love him the way he thinks she does, or is that all a lie? Unanswered questions swirled around in his head, confusing him, upsetting him, as if taunting him and the emotion love.
He had only tried to stop her from smoking. She had seen some students behind the bike shed with the mysterious little sticks, and had very nearly tried one – until he intervened. All he had tried to so was to protect her from getting severely ill, how could she misunderstand that so badly? He couldn't just stand back and let the only girl he had ever loved from falling into the tight hold of the cigarette world.
Another tear slipped from his brown eyes. He felt used, betrayed even, and knew that it would take more than a sorry to mend the broken heart she had given him. And he knew that he would not love again for a very long time
