UU One of my first real angst multi-chapter fics, this one focuses on the possible depressions of the YYH gang coughmyfavoritescough so review and more shall follow. Lyrics in italics and underlined. Thoughts in italics, major actions in bold.
Disclaimer: I do not own YYH or Linkin park's song. So I no own, you no sue!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Memories consume
Like opening the wound
I'm picking me apart again
You all assume
I'm safe here in my room
Unless I try to start again
The smoke filled the room, weighing heavily in the air depite the substances hovering apperance. The smoke held significance, a deadly habit meant to give a short moment of satisfaction in exchange for the shortage of one's life. It was an addiction, but not just any addiction, it was HER addicition, her habit, her secret disgust. The woman had tried to quit despite what others assume, yet the smoke filled the air, beaconing her to return to the addiction she could not run from. So she continue, she joined it instead of fighting it, made others think she liked it, her mask. Shizuru laid sprawled on her bed, the ceiling fan twisted slowly winding the smoke within it's wooden blades before sending it back towards her, taunting that no matter what she would never escape the smoke that incased her life, imprisoned her. The cover fallen to the floor in a bundle at the end on her bed leaving the white sheets alone and mussed under the scantily dressed older Kuwabara. Long fingers rolled the cigarette stick between the four fingers and thumb, brown eyes merely staring at it in a sort if mild fascination. The smoke, she loved the smoke, it was the reason she returned time and time again. She rolled over towards the night stand beside her bed, opening the brown mini dresser and shuffling through the contents. Her body and soul seemed to seperate as she watched herself, body presumably on auto pilot as the opposite hand holding the cigarette pulled out a small blade. Another addiction. The ashtray on the nightstand was filled with another bud as the brown haired woman snubbed it out in the ashes. She laid back on the bed, holding in the small blade in the dim light of her room.
Cut. The blade pressing into the smooth flesh of her underarm, into a already healed scar.
They all expected her to be so level headed, always on top of the situation. Who were they to presume she would always keep a calm head? So much did they unknowingly rely on her that she felt to live up to their expectations, stone faced Shizuru.
A curved slice made a 'S' shape trailing up further on her arm, dribbles of blood begun to slide down the pale skin painting it.
She had problems...she wasn't perfect, she wasn't strong. She was so incredibly weak that she turned to self mutilation to relieve her of the weight her responsiblities for a moment. Outside her body she watched herself, the pain not a issue, more of a sedative than damage. She felt like crying...
But she would never cry, Shizuru was never allowed to cry.
I don't want to be the one
The battles always choose
'Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused
Now she laid on her bed, the blood seeping from her arms and spreading on the innocent white sheets. The blade lie forgotten temporarily on the nightstand, occasionally her wrist twitched, registering she was suppose to be feeling pain rather than the numbing sensation she held now. Sleep...all she had to do was close her eyes and leave her arms untreated, she would bleed to death yet she fought, why did she fight for life...? Kazuma? Never. He was like the rest of them, he didn't see what was right under his nose, a soft dry chuckle escaped her lips. She did it for herself.
She liked to suffer.
"Shizuru!"
Kazuma.
I was just thinking of you... Time to become what expectations held, the twenty year old stood slowly from her bed. Vision dizzy was loss of blood, but she wouldn't be beaten, she wouldn't, couldn't. The night stand also provided gauzes to hide under the many long sleeve shirts and outfits she wore, no one noticed did they? She always wore long sleeve to conceal the scars, the scars of a habit, a addiction. The scars of her life. Now she was ready to face the world, the cigarette box laid on the bed, tempting and calling like always, a calling she would probably never ignore. With a flick of the wrist the cigarette of in her lips and lit, the smoke dancing from the end of the stick. Smoke. So free at first yet trapped until it could fade and die, much like humans. what a morbid comparison...hm
"Shizuru!"
"Shut up, Kazuma!" The door slammed open and closed before her brother could see inside, he had never been in her room and she intended on keeping it that way. She didn't need to see a shrink anytime soon. Her brown eyes opened, her soul which watched her with a tightess gripping at the heart returned with reluctance to the body, now she saw her brother sitting on the couch watching tv eating chips without a care in the word. As she watched him she tried to remember the last time she was like that, the last time she held that type of innocence in her. A shaky sigh released from her chest as she stomped over to the spirit detective, intent on delivering what was expected. "Kazuma! WHat did I tell you about eating in here!? Do you see this crumbs clean it up stupid!"
She didn't want to scream, she didn't want to fight, she didn't mean her words. In reality she could care less if he ate in the living room. She did it when he wasn't home, but that was the image built up to make her. Shizuru was built up by other people and those other people would knock it down if they so pleased, if they knew the type of power they held over her...I can't live like this Tiring was the facade she woke up to, what did she have to look foreward to everyday? What did she have to keep her going? Habits, a habit to live, a habit to smoke, a habit to cut, a habit to lose people. Sakyo smoked...would he mind if I joined him? she wondered entering her kitchen after Kazuma cleaned up his mess, her hand digging through her pockets to pull out the black lighter. A small smile touched her lips I wouldn't... Tonight. Sakyo...Tonight the cycle would break.
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So, I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
Tonight
"Sis, I'm going to visit Yukina! Yukina, my beloved!"
Good... She didn't reply, Kazuma wouldn't care. Shizuru sat in her room, the setting sun casting a glow through her window, being eaten by the shadows as the sun sank. In her hands, she held a cool black object, firm and deadly. She stood, pacing back and forth lookinng at the object she had set down. Against the white of her sheets, along with the blood stains, she felt her chest tightened. She didn't...she...wanted...her hands clutched her head, fingers digging into her skull. The woman couldn't decide...or wouldn't. The walls seemed to inclose on her, shirinking, her breathing sped up. She didn't want to be imprisoned by anything, perhaps thats why she wanted to end it all. Shizuru was imprisoned, by her brother, responsiblities, loyalties, so called friends. BUt more importantly herself...She looked up and she saw herself, her reflection. What... she looked pale, small, defenseless and weak, she wasn't used to this side of herself. Apathetic, cold, poker faced, violent, all those she was familar with but this...
"Stop looking at me..." the mirror still held her gaze, mimicking her, as daring her to look away "Stop it!"
Yet again the mirror did not head her demands, her body lumbered over the mirror attached to her dresser. Gently touching the cool smooth surface, her fist balled, eye closing as she slammed her fist into the mirror shattering it. Pieces of glass flung out from the wooden background, bits cutting into her fist and face.
Clutching my cure
I tightly lock the door
I try to catch my breath again
I hurt much more
Than anytime before
I had no options left again
I dont want to be the one
The battles always choose
'Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So, I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
Tonight
Step. Step. Step. Slow even steps carrying her back to the bed, back to her solution, back to her cure. Fingers trailed against the white wall, the blood from her fist sliding down her fingers marring the wall in five bloody lines. Shizuru dropped to her knees near the bed, grabbing the black evil gun. Her fingers danced across the exterior, curving around the trigger. The older Kuwabara shakily lifted the barrel near her temple, slowly she pondered her choice, before she could go to deep in thought she saw the black lighter gleaming on the floor and her facial expression softened Sakyo... The trigger was pulled...
Click.
The first was a dud and somehow Shizuru felt herself breath a sigh of relief, but this didn't last for long as she slowly pulled the trigger, this time it did as anticipated.
Bang.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The gun fell to the floor, smoke trailing up from the barrel, swarming the air. Shizuru dropped to the floor, eyes still open and body laid in a comfortable position...there was no gunshot wound, there was no blood. On the other side of the room was a bullet hole. The gun had missed once more.
"Not my time...I'm sorry Sakyo..." she whispered breathily, silence filled the air before her eyes closed and head rolled lazily on her arm. She had either passed out or fell asleep.
And the smoke lazily filled the room, doing it's dance before fadding away and dying.
TBC