Finally opening my eyes and flopping onto my back, I throw my arms out for a stretch, then sigh, staring at the window above me. I push into a sitting position, and I'm instantly reminded of the events of the previous night... thoughts that bring a deep crimson color to my cheeks. The towel still wrapped around me, I stand next to the bed and turn my eyes to the door. I have to take that shower today. In a few minutes I am at my closet again, this time searching for something to wear after the shower. If I'm going out, I may as well go have breakfast too.. or something. I'm not exactly sure yet, but I know Chou will be there, and I will be in a better mood after I'm clean.
A nice little yukata- nothing like my 'normal' attire- is what I pull out, and that done, I grab another towel and prepare to peel the one I'm wearing from my body. Though I should be relieved that I don't have to leave the room afterall, my eyes widen in horror, that crimson returning to my cheeks as I realise that the stickiness is gone. I should have noticed it when I woke up, but I just don't notice much in those first few minutes. Now, however, I am fully awake and entirely ashamed. I know who did it, and although I should be grateful that he knew I was dreading leaving the room to shower, I am nearly livid.
I throw the towel at the door, then follow it with the clothing I had picked out, shrieking with each toss. It was embarrassing, and just disgraceful, but it was mine. I know he knew about it, but I could pretend it was still secretive.. I could sneak to the bathroom to shower, then pretend it never happened. But now that's impossible. It's gone and I wasn't the one to remove it. Yet again he has intruded upon one of my fantasies, and I hate him for it. Before it was simply an annoyance, but this I can't forgive. And now, as I stand staring at the door, eyes narrowed in hatred, my hands form fists at my side and tremble as nearly all of my flesh burns with the same carmine colour my cheeks had become.
Almost as if on cue, I hear that familiar knock at the door. Taking slow, deep breaths, I simply stare. I have no idea what to say to him, and so far I only want to kill him. After quite a long time of silence, I simply fall to my knees and turn to my little bookshelf. There, on a bottom shelf, is a small knife that I have thought of using many times. My memories of Shishio-sama's final mission for me have always kept me from doing so, but now I don't feel like I have any right to serve him anymore. Positioning myself on my knees, nearly naked except for the partially removed towel that has pooled loosely around my waist, I twirl the knife absently in my shaking hands. I know of many sites on my body where the knife could be used for a quick death, and I am trying to decide which to make use of.
As I press the tip of the knife against my throat, again there is that knock. My hands are trembling still, and I know that soon they will have too much movement to assure that I hit the right mark. Perhaps that would be better afterall... I deserve a slow, painful death.
"Kamatari! Let me in!" He says, but both of us know it's just a formality. If I don't answer, he'll just let himself in again; but if I do... what could I say? I can't think of anything that would make him stay on his side of that door, or better yet, make him go away. There are no thoughts in my mind but death. My Shishio's face has left me to be replaced by an angrier man, one who knows what I've done. All of this is Chou's fault. No! It's mine. It was he who intuded upon me, but it was my shame in the first place. If he didn't know, though, I could go on pretending it hadn't happened, and continue on in denial. But I know I can't blame him. I should have done this after the first time, whether anyone knew or not.
My hands start to falter, falling away from the intended spot. It isn't fear, or nervousness that stops me. It is the fact that I have heard that telltale click, and the doorknob is now turning so slowly. It would take nothing for me to run to the door now and hold it closed, but I sit there, still naked in my towel. Even if I had run, my weight is nothing now, not that it was ever much. All I can do, then, is replace the knife against my neck and wait. Chou would have no choices. Either watch me die, or try to stop me. And if he tries to stop me, it's only a small motion to jam the knife in anyway... he wouldn't be in time.
"You don't really want to do that, now, do ya?" More calm and nonchalant than I expect, but of course, this is Chou, I remind myself. He simply stands there by the door, closing it behind him, though he never takes his eyes off of me. 'There's nothing you can do', I silently tell him with my eyes; my shaking hands push hard against the knife, sending the sharp metal into my soft skin. I've never been afraid to die, but the shivering throws me off. How pathetic I must look, but I deserve that as well. The next thing I notice is blackness, I didn't even feel a thing.