Been awhileee!!! So sorry, but I'm delighted to be writing for your pleasure again;)
Still would like to know what a 'Hit' and 'Visit' is lol
XOJESS

Kagome awoke that morning with an obnoxious throbbing in her temples, the pain seeming to be also located directly behind her eye sockets.

She couldn't recall the last time she'd had a head ache so severe.
Her head ache occupied her mind for another brief moment before it was overshadowed by the memory of her previous nightmare.
It hit her in an agonizing mental wave, making her cringe and curl up into a ball under the bed sheets.

She buried her face into her pillow to muffle the sobbish gasp as the violence of the previous night finally caught up to her.
She tried to stop herself from crying, but instead of assauging the pain her efforts at calmness only intensified it until she broke into choking weeps.

She felt so.. dirty. So weak, so stupid. She continued to sob into her pillow.
The ringing of the telephone interrupted her like a slap in the face.
Be strong, she told herself, sniffling and wiping her nose on the black tee she was wearing.
She picked the phone up off the cradle.

"Hello, this is Kagome." There was no trace of saddish in her voice.
"Kagome! It's Hojo, where were you last night? I was so worried!"
"Hojo.." she murmered to herself for a moment, deep in incoherent thought.
"Kagome? Why'd you stand me up?"
"I didn't," She answered with little emotion, "I went to the wharfs and waited for you like you asked." Her temper rose, but she kept it in check. She wasn't going to say anything to him about what had happened to her the other night, no one could know.

"The wharfs? Like the docks? Oh Kagome that's such an sleezy part of town, I meant The Wharf, the restruant! You know, they're known for their seafood?"

The Wharf? How could she of misunderstood his meaning? That meant what happened last night was entirely her fault. She had no one to blame but herself..

Misery clutched her heart like a big gloved hand, and seeped into her stomach like a leak. She felt like she was going to puke.

"Kagome, are you there?"
She sucked a big gulp of air into her chest and stopped herself from relapsing into tears, "I've got to go Hojo."
"Wait, Kagome! I'm so sorry, I should of been more specific, I didn't even think of that. You're mad at me." He sounded sincerely upset for the mistake, even without knowing what'd it'd put her through.
She couldn't be mad at him, she even almost felt bad for him.

"I'm not mad Hojo, I'm just sick, I think I picked up a cold or something."
"Oh, that's good! I mean, not that your sick, of course not, but that you're not mad, that's excellent, I'm sorry Kagome."
"Don't worry, but I'm going back to bed."
"Okay, get better Kagome."

Kagome hung up and rolled back on to her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and curling back into a fetal position on her side.
It hadn't been more than a 15 minute struggle, the other night, but that quarter-of-an-hour had drastically changed her.

She groaned as the pain in her head worsened. She wanted to stay in her bed for the next couple days and sleep off the horrible feelings she couldn't make go away.

But was 12:20 already, and she needed to get up. She wasn't the first girl who had to suffer through this, and morbiddly she thought, not the last either.

She sat up and stretched, the covers falling off her.
She got out of bed and went to the bathroom to start a hot shower. That should help with the slimy feeling of being dirty that her body had been tingling uncomfortably with, she thought hopefully.

She gasped as she looked in the mirror and saw that she was wearing a male's black t-shirt. A whole new chapter of the night flooded back to her that had been completely overshadowed this morning.

A fierce young man with jet black hair and an aggravated scowl, pulling her attacker off her, the last thing she noticed was the way the man starting beating him, and how her attacker hadn't even had a chance to pull his pants up.

That was the last thing she noticed before she passed out, watching that horrible penis going from erect to soft in a quick matter a seconds.

The rest of her night she felt like she was in a dream, going from consciousness to unconsciousness so quickly it was hard to discern from what was real and what was a dream.
The Black-haired boy was carrying her in his arms, muttering mostly profanities to himself. Then she was in a bed and she was feeling a unfamiliar yearning for him in her sleep-like daze.

She remembered how he was taking off what remained of her blouse and she was lying in his bed with her torso naked and gleaming in the white light of the moon.
'He wants to have sex with me' she thought dazedly to herself, her mind swimming with an unfamiliar emotion.

It wasn't fear, or dread like she felt just a few hours earlier that night when she made that connection about the last man (or more appropraitely the last monster).
It was an anxious feeling, more of a wanting. She'd always secretly wished for the butterflies-in-your-stomach sensation that she heard so much about in romance novels and movies.
But she'd never actually experienced it before, not in the presence of other boys, or even her own boyfriend.

But here she was, within hours of her nearly-successful rape, in the bed of a complete stranger, her bare chest glowing whitely in the moonlight, and she was overwhelmed with the butterflies.

She had to see that boy again. She wanted to give him back his shirt, and thank him for saving her body from that monster, and possibly even her life.
But most of all, she wanted to have that feeling again, the butterflies-sensation.

As she undressed herself and then stepped into the hot spray of the shower, sighing comfortably as the water soaked her hair and doused her body, she wondered unhappily if maybe she dreamed the whole thing.
The second part with the young man, anyway. Never could she invent such a horrible nightmare on her own.

Maybe the young man with jet-black hair was just a realistic dream her mind had submerged her into to stop her from going into shock.
What an awful thought.
She was probably at the police station all the other night, mostly unconscious but surfacing for a few minutes at a time every now and then while still being absorbed in that beautiful dream.

They could of just as easily of given her that shirt, it was pretty generic. How would that boy of even been able to get into her room and put her back in her bed? It didn't make sense.

It saddened her, as she became more and more convinced her savior was no more than a figment of her own imagination.
She realized she was crying again when she thought of how she was sure to have to face the authorities again today to discuss her rape.

Kagome stayed in the shower and cried until the water ran cold.
But it would be the last time that she'd cry about what had happened to her the night at the wharfs.

"Kagome," said her mother when Kagome finally came downstairs that afternoon, "I thought you were going out with Hojo last night, why didn't you tell me you'd decided to stay in?"
"Huh?" Kagome blinked, confused. Does she really not know what happened? Had the police not told her?

"I didn't feel good." It was not a lie, but if for some extraordinary stroke of luck her mom hadn't been informed, Kagome was not going to be the one to fill her in. She wanted it all put behind her, as qucikly as possible.