I hate to say it.. I really do... but i'm not a big fan of this chapter.

Orihime just didn't want me in her head the last few days. She pushed me out any chance she got! But I really didn't want to keep you guys waiting.

Which is why this chapter is slightly shorter than the others.

Not to mention the world really didn't want me to post it either since EVERYTHING went wrong at least once.

BUT I'll just let you guys decide how you feel about it... Rant over.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Bleach or any of its characters.

Let's get into it!-

The sun was fully set, encasing the world in a familiar darkness.

Walking through the city, I could watch as the night slowly came alive beneath the canopies of the shops and restaurants. With its cool air and quiet hum. Night was a beautiful thing. Where no one rushed, because they had no where to be. When people could sit outside under the moon and talk and drink with their families and friends. The hustle of the day winding down.

I had never understood why anyone would fear the night. Never understood why the darkness was seen as wholly evil. I had seen plenty of horrors in the broad light of day. But no one awoke in the morning and feared that light.

But, I suppose it is a natural reaction to fear the things you can't see.

A dull humming in my ear got louder and louder. Until in it I could hear my own name. Being repeated over and over.

Head snapping, I remembered I wasn't alone. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I was wondering if you were hungry... You really have a way of getting sucked into your thoughts, don't you?" Ryley said it while laughing; joking. But I did not recognize that until the words had already left my mouth. "They have helped shielded me from many horrors."

The words were too harsh; too true. And I could see the small discomfort on Ryley's face, before it was quickly replaced with a sickening pity. I wanted to snatch the words back. But he was already opening his mouth. I was faster. "I actually have dinner plans with the king." The words were timed perfectly, for right up ahead were the wide marble steps leading to the High Court. They gleamed with the promise of escape. "So, we will part here. Have a pleasant night."

I half jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Hoping to leave behind a hollow part of me that I had never meant to share.

"And how is your relationship with the boy progressing?" Clark asked before bringing a strawberry to his lips.

"As well as can be expected, Father."

"Orihime, you know how I hate indirect answers."

I had to force myself not to clench my teeth. Clark had taught me how to read those around me, how to see who they truly were. And in doing so he had also taught me how to hide myself beneath a blank face.

For emotions do not exist if they can not be seen or heard.

So I knew he knew nothing of the unending rage and hatred I truly felt when I said, "He is very persistent. We spent many hours together, and it seems he is looking forward to our future."

I thought of wide stretches of grass. I thought of the soothing warmth of the sun against my skin. All the while, I kept my eyes fixated on the sixteen peas on my plate as I divided them into neat groups with my fork. My dinner sat otherwise untouched.

"Splendid. I was very worried he wouldn't take a liking to you. Beauty only holds a mans attention for so long- you would be wise to remember that. And we need the North to feel included in our power. So," He took a large gulp of his wine. "keep the young heir as... invested as possible."

I looked up, shifting my mask.

Pulling my brows together: Confusion.

A very slight purse of the lips: Clear distaste.

I only had to fake one.

"He is a young man." The king explained. "Who no doubt has a very normal appetite for women. He can stray as much as he wishes once the vows are made but, for now, I would like you to keep him thoroughly entertained."

I stared at my father across the table. Stared at him like he had no just uttered those vile words and it took every bit of self control not to throw my wine into his knowing face as he waited, ever so patiently, for my reply.

And I knew the words I had to speak, knew the tone I must say them in, but bile rose, clogging my throat.

I was feeling too many things at once, and I knew my mask was crumbling. I felt it in every second that ticked by.

His anger would come soon. He hated to be kept waiting. I could see the words, I could practically hear them, they were being said repeatedly inside my head. But the voice was not mine, it was his. And to hear them in my own, to actually speak the words out loud... the thought alone was enough to make me sick.

Clark leaned forward, his eyes closing into slits, his mouth opening to no doubt say what we both knew. That whether I said the words or not, I would be forced to-

I was saved by the door being thrown open. A woman, clad in a long black gown strolled into the room as if she'd been there a million times before. Her hair was a honey gold, that swept well past her shoulders, the very tips brushing against the curve in her spine. Her skin was so pale it seemed to glow, like a light was lit beneath her skin the crimson lips seemed to be the only color on her.

The woman didn't look at me at first. Her and my father met eyes, and she held all the air in the room. Even Clark seemed to be at a complete loss for words. No, that wasn't right. He seemed to be nearly hypnotized by her.

My father had never been so still in the presence of anyone. Or anything.

And when her black eyes slid to me, when I felt her attention slid over me like bugs crawling over my flesh, I decided I would rather die than ever face her again.

My back straightened at the thought that seemed almost shoved into my mind.

I was Orihime Inoue; Heir to the Golden Throne. And I feared nothing.

"How did you get in here?" I barked at her, my chair screeching as I rose abruptly. A perfectly groomed eyebrow rose, as her slender body turned more toward me. Her dressed moved and shined like a spiders web, sticking to the ground as much as to her body.

"Leave us." Clark spat. And though he never took his eyes away from the woman, I knew he was speaking to me, and I whirled to him.

"Father." I protested.

"Leave us!" Not asked, not told but ordered. Commanded.

Slowly, I looked to the strange woman once more. And this time felt no trace of that wickedness, the glow to her skin seemed to have dimmed. Leaving behind just a beautiful face and a smile that seemed to be cut from glass.

Yet even still something felt undeniably wrong in her. Death rolled off of her in waves. But she had an aura I secretly craved to have, a presence that over took the room and demanded all attention. I felt her stare on me as I left, and in that stare I saw my death as clear as the door in front of me. And it was painful, but swift.

I tried to ignore it, but as I walked down the hall, inside of me was a small hope that she would be up for the task.

There was more of them now.

More of the monsters that ripped her open and torn everything out. She felt their hands over her body, sharp nails leaving scratches in their wake. They licked her glistening blood from them, slurping over the taste of her innocence. Digging in for more, never stopping to let her rest.

The girls eyes were open, opened wide, burning against the icy air, though there was nothing to see. Her lungs filled with their breath. Her chest rose up with it, and when she exhaled they breathed it in.

They were everywhere. Above her, beside her, within her. She did not ask for death. She did not ask for anything.

Because the girl, locked inside the safe cocoon of her mind, did not feel their hands.

They were there for hours. They cut open each healed over wound, so it bled anew, open and gushing. The monsters tongues were warm against her skin, they slid them over every sliver of ruined flesh, feasting.

And the girl felt nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I took far longer in the bath that night than usual. It was like every word my father had spoken was written in oil on my skin; like I was covered in an invisible muck. No matter how many times I washed, the feeling wouldn't go away. I scrubbed until my skin was raw and red, but to no avail. Eventually, the water turned icy and brought goosebumps over my skin, forcing me to leave the hope of getting clean behind.

I emerged from the bathroom, hair dripping, clad in only a towel, to find Ichigo lounged comfortably across my bed. His arms propped behind his head, with lightly closed eyes and a child's lollipop sticking out from between his lips.

If I was a lesser woman, I would have squealed.

"Don't worry, I'll keep my eyes closed until you get decent." He popped the candy out of his mouth. "Unless, of course, you have any other ideas."

Not feeling that his words were worthy of a reply, I escaped into the closet, throwing the curtain closed with a whoosh of force, his delighted chuckled following close behind.

When my cheeks had returned to their normal shade and I had clothes on my back, I stalked with the anger of a thousand conquered kingdoms towards him. In my absence, he'd shifted from the bed into the far left corner, where towers of book cases took over the large space.

Turning he mused, "Interesting choices. I never would have pegged you as an avid reader."

"Funny. Because I never would have pegged you as a pervert, yet here we are." I fumed back, crossing my arms.

"If I was a pervert, I wouldn't have closed my eyes now would I?"

"If they hadn't been, you would no longer have eyes to close."

"Oh, I believe you." He admitted, laughing. Ichigo plucked a book off the shelf and plopped heavily into the nearest chair, his long legs hanging freely over an armrest. Flipping through it carelessly. "So, who's the guy?"

Grinding past my annoyance, I looked at him steadily. "Do you have a reason for being here?"

Ichigo glanced over the books spine, his eyes clear and piercing. "I've already explained my reasons. Did being in Loverboys presence make you forget all about me? That's cold, Princess. Real cold."

"When my uncle gave the order to keep an eye on me, I don't think this is what he had in mind."

"Well, that's up to interpretation." He laid the book in his lap. "But I really am curious about Mr. Chit-chat. Come sit, we'll have girl talk."

I didn't move. Rubbing my hands over my face, resisting halfheartedly the strong desire to hurl a book at his face. "Look, it's been a long day and I really just want to be alone. Please."

Perhaps it was the near desperation in my tone, or maybe he could tell, that in my current state, I wouldn't be very entertaining company but something softened on his otherwise hard face, and he stood- returned my book to its rightful place, and went to leave. But when he was standing before the door, he paused, his hand hovering over the knob. "Make sure you ice that arm." And then with a click, Ichigo was gone.

Standing alone, I looked down, to where you could see the soft bruises forming in the shape of fingers.

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Oh Ichigo... Orihime just doesn't feel like playing with you tonight.

We are all pretty bummed about it too, don't worry.

Please leave a comment and tell me how you felt about this chapter. I need the feedback desperately!

Till next time-