Author's Note: Time for me to write again. I'm in a bit of a downward slump mood-wise, but eh, that's good for this story. Here's the fifth chapter, 5/11. Back to Misao's pov. Anyone seen the movie Ghost Ship? There's a song at the very end of it, and I want to think it was this song. In any case, Haunted is a great horror movie song. =P
Chapter Five: HauntedLong lost words whisper slowly to me
Still can't find what keeps me here
When all this time I've been so hollow inside
I know you're still there
Misao awoke in a cold sweat, her face stained with tears and stinging in the cool night air.
"Aoshi-sama…" The mumbled words were a response to a dream.
It was a disturbing scene to say the least. She hadn't experienced such terrifying dreams since she was a child. Her mind repainted the dismal scene of a bare room, a flash of red, and then nothing. Misao's heart raced. It was coming… she knew it was coming. Suddenly, there was Aoshi-sama, his kodachi in his hands. Blood cascaded over his body as if he were standing under a crimson waterfall. He turned to look at her, his eyes nothing more than hollow sockets, his mouth stitched shut, blood dripping from the seams. Misao wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She had to help him. As she approached, he stood there, his blood-soaked face haggard and listless. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand reached for his chest to rest over his heart.
"It's okay," she had whispered in her dream, her voice light and soft.
And for a moment, the bleeding waterfall ceased. The sockets began to fill and the stitching began to come loose. But then came that horrifying noise, that tortured moan, as if death itself was lamenting its losses. Another flash, and Aoshi-sama's features were coated in crimson once more. Misao's fingers began to numb and she looked down. A wave of icy chill crawled up her arm, freezing her at the wrist. She looked up at her Aoshi-sama's hideous excuse for a face and still refused to back down, keeping her hand steady against his chest. The ice ran through her blood, stopping it and freezing it, encasing her arm in frost. Further it went, across her torso, when it finally reached her heart. Sharp crystals of ice formed themselves within its tender walls, threatening to burst them. When she still did not relent, Aoshi-sama looked down at her and spoke, his withered, stitched mouth not bothering to move. Suddenly the whole room turned frigid, and Misao could see her breath as she frantically panted.
"I don't need the help of a child. That's always what you'll be to me.... I don't want you. I never will. Get away from me.... Now."
Misao's tears froze and shattered against her cheeks before she jolted herself awake.
Lying in bed, she hugged her knees to her chest, resting her head against the soft fabric of her sleeping attire. Sobs violently choked her, wracking her entire body in a fit of tremors. Darkness clung to her, despair knocking on the door of her heart.
"Please…" she languidly drawled to the darkness, fighting it meekly.
I don't want you. I never will. It had to be true. She was such an annoyance, such a burden to a man who was ten years her senior. He shouldn't have to waste his time on some child. She wasn't pretty, and she certainly wasn't beautiful, she thought bitterly. Always had she been 'one of the guys', and Aoshi-sama wouldn't want someone like that. She wasn't good enough. She would never be good enough.
Her feet set themselves against the cold floor and moved her across the room before she even realized what was happening. Pain pounded in her ears from the impending headache. Silently, swiftly she dressed, grabbing her kunai and reaching the shoji before fully realizing the implications of what she was doing. Through her window she could see the dim glow of the moon as it lay high in the sky – morning was far from approaching. Her hand trembled as it reached to pull back the light door, as quietly as possible. If he heard her… if she had to face him after such a revelation, she would surely make an even bigger fool of herself. What was the use trying to play his game? Obviously, it didn't manage to net his attention. But now Misao knew she could not go back to her old self; not after the feelings evoked from such a life-like, telling nightmare. Misao's features bore her pain and current self-loathing as she made her way down the stairs and to the doors of the Aoiya. The flame in her eyes grew muffled, and then was snuffed out completely. She opened the doors and stared out into the night, bathed in its quiet desolation.
What are you doing? The question pounded in her head.
Leaving.
Why?
I have to. I… I can't stay here any longer. Not around him. He hates me… he's disgusted by me. It's time I do him a favor, for once.
She silenced the voice that would argue with her, sobs tearing through her throat once more as she hefted a pack onto her shoulder. She needed to leave. She had to, before despair completely swallowed her. I can't see him again. If I see him, I'll… I'll just want to come back, and I…
Misao dropped to her knees, her back to the Aoiya. It was the second time that day she had fallen and began to cry, but now she didn't bother pushing away the sorrow nor did she push herself to her feet. The air around her was dead, and her cries filled the night with tortured pain. She had once been the one that brought a smile to everyone's face by her uplifting mood. Everyone except him. Depression held her in its arms now, its talons gripping her in a tight hold. She was falling… ever falling into an abyss, and there was no one there to catch her.
I don't want you. I never will.
"Aoshi-sama…" she wailed into the night, broken inside. The only one who could fix what had happened was the one who didn't care; didn't want or need her around, and that, to Misao, was the breaking point of all she could withstand. Her body shaking, she willed herself to stand, just so she could be further away from the Aoiya… and further away from him.