Chapter 11

HIEI POV

tick...tick...tick...

My eyebrow twitches as I listen to the otherwise silence of my room. I don't even know why I keep the Damn clock.

Well...that's not true. Kurama gave it to me for Christmas last year. I remembered the broken aura that lingered over him, the deeply rooted sadness He harbored. I tried to replace that image; the way he hid forced vomiting, the red of broken blood vessels in his eyes. He was hurting so badly, and part of me wanted to shake him, tell him to get over the past. Stop hurting himself. The other half wanted to die, because I knew I was part of the reason he hurt so deeply.

"Hiei?"

I looked to my side, in to amythest eyes that shone brightly; her cheeks were flushed with passion, her lips swollen. The only thing hiding her body was a thin sheet. "Are you feeling ok?" Kurama used to ask that.

"Fine, Aya," I sighed, adjusting the sheets, "Just tired." Ayame smiled lightly and rested her head against my chest, long lines of patterns playing connect the dots with my scars. Her bright blue hair, usually neatly braided, was a messy halo around her head. I played lazily with it, listening to her soft, somewhat sloppy humming. Not really a tune, just notes put together.

Sighing again, I adjusted the pillow behind my head, running my fingers through my hair even though I knew it would not be out of place. I couldn't really mess it up if I tried. "Sleep, Ayame," I climbed out of bed, grabbing my scattered clothing, "I'll be back later."

I left before she could answer.

I needed to look in to the eyes that haunted me. I needed to tell him the truth somehow.

Kurama POV

Back and forth, I paced, glancing between the Television and my door, not focusing on what was really going on. I looked at the mirror in my room, the one I don't remember buying or receiving. I look at my body; no matter how much I hated doing so, and Hiei's face would fade in and out if my mind. His disgusted expression, averted eyes. I wondered why...but I knew. Was being the lover of a thief, murderer, a whore, too much for him? Was he embarrassed to be seen with me, or was he disgusted by my behavior? I bit my nails, my feet beginning to drag, legs aching but my heart hurt so much more.

I listened to my family's laughter in the den below me.

...they didn't need me, really. I was a senior in high school; I would be leaving soon and they would be a traditional and perfect family. A child who loved them, who was succeeding, who was normal, human, and everything they could want. U felt a sharp pain at the thought of mother forgetting me. But...she deserved to be happy. She did not need me to burden her anymore.

My feet touched the cold windowsill; the window was always open to keep me from suffocating in my own presence. I often looked at the clouds, the moon and stars. I almost looked for Hiei. It was past eleven thirty. No one would come to see me until morning.

My mother laughed with Kazuya.

My feet were bloody, my body sore, lungs burning. I wasn't crying even though I felt barely a breath from doing so.

Kuronue.

Yomi

Hiei

Shiori.

People I had lost. People I was losing. Screaming, crying ; embracing me, telling me they loved me. Mother said it so many times; there was so much she would never know. Guilt, burden, horrid memories, crippling emotions. There was an eternal weight, tied to my heart with barbed wire. It never faded, never vanished.

Kuronue...

I collapsed on a bench, gasping for air, my hands resting on shaking knees. I felt nauseated ; my arms burned.

I think I screamed.

My nails dug into my flesh. Sanguine dripped down, a child's finger paint. I hated myself, my body, my soul... Deeper, I ran my nails over my flesh, the tips sharpening in to claws almost on their own. My hair begun to bleed white and my teeth felt like they would shatter from the clenching of my jaw.

"Make it stop," I whispered to the cataract sky, "Please, gods, make it stop...I can't do it anymore..."

Panting, bleeding, crying.

"Please, just for now, let it stop..."

Shiori POV

My head lay on Kazuyas chest, listening to his heart as I scanned the book beside him. I played with my ring that had, a few weeks ago, become my wedding ring. I thought about my Suichi, and Kokoda, who had become my child. I thought about my late husband, and the car that killed him.

The phone calls. The mourning. The recovery.

I wondered about Suichi. Did he ever forget his father? He was so young...but He had excellent recollect.

"Shiori?" I looked into his coffee black eyes, the reading glasses balanced on his nose, "You're so quiet. Usually you would lecture me about reading at this late hour." Laughter in his voice and I smiled, "I'm fine dear. I'm just thinking." He sighed, and whispered that my thoughts were dangerous for him. "About my son," I corrected him sternly, "And yours..." A sigh found it's way from my chest, "...I'm wondering about Suichi's health. He's been depressed lately...so thin.."

"Yes...I noticed."

He closed his book quietly, set it on the nightstand as be embraced me, "He's on your mind a lot, isn't He?"

I didn't answer.

Did I worry too much? Was I over protective? He wasn't a baby anymore...even though I knew he was MY baby. "Shiori, maybe we should," hesitating, as if telling me I was not going to like his opinion, "Make an appointment with a psychiatrist."

I shot up, resting in my arm and sending him a nasty look I would later regret, "I will not send My son to one of those..." I could think of the term , "I won't let him be labeled crazy." He gave me a look that needed no words. "...He doesn't need it," I sighed, forcing my anger down , "he doesn't need to be examined. He will be fine. He's going to be fine...!"

There was an eerie silence, and I heard Suichi's window crack open in the room beside us. He sobbed and laughed: I could see him in my mind, grabbing desperately at his hair as he tried to hold onto his very sanity.

And I knew he would smile tomorrow.

"He'll be fine," I whispered again. I couldn't even believe myself.