Her dream, on the other hand, had not been peaceful and empty. She had been watching something she supposed was a nightmare – or a daymare, she guessed – for there was a Kikyou, pale as a sheet, with blood flowing freely from blatant slashes on her wrists that flooded onto the billowing red pants worn by classic mikos. The sleeves had been ripped so they wouldn't stem the flow of blood, and the look in her eyes was disturbingly determined.
The white floor looked like an ocean of blood.
Then … /crack/ … time was sped ahead.
Inuyasha was holding her, his face twisting into several different kinds of grief as he watched his girlfriend die in his arms. Inuyasha's face, Inuyasha's cry, they were all subdued. On very low volume with very low contrast.
The hanyou was of a different quality then Kikyou – he looked like he belonged in a silent movie. Pixelated, and without depth, like in ordinary dreams. But Kikyou was real, and Kikyou was three-dimensional. Half-noticing that if one of them looked in her direction they would see a wall, she couldn't shake off the feeling that the girl knew that she was watching.
It was a loop. The same sixty second image, over and over.
She could feel the words imprint themselves into her memory, dug farther and farther with each impending strike. It was too fearsome to see so suddenly, and the repetitions got more and more sickening as the blood would never stop … each time she wondered if Inuyasha could get to her in the moments she was not able to see. Get to her in time and tell her to quit it .. get there before the butcher knife that was dripping on the floor was set into her slender, aristocratic hands.
How /ever/ would the stains get out of that floor?
"Why did you betray me, Inuyasha?"
"Why did you betray me, Inuyasha?"
She whispered alongside, eyes opening sluggishly. Her wrists were aching.
For a moment everything was in black and white, and she wondered if this would be some warped spin-off of the imagery she'd had to sit through like an innocent bystander. More like an audience member, truly. But then she saw Miroku and Sango, and felt Inuyasha stirring.
Kagome felt nauseated as the face of Kikyou when she went limp didn't fade.
And she hadn't been there at the time she died … she hadn't heard about the circumstances from Inuyasha, only that her last words couldn't have been very sentimental. She was slightly shocked by the frightening realism of her dream. It had an ugly hold on her, making her breathing shaky.
No. Life was decent, and then she went to sleep.
/"Why did you betray me, Inuyasha?..."/
The words leapt out at him, clear and ringing just like they had been when she'd said them. Even though Kagome was only whispering it in her sleep, even though he himself was half asleep. They struck him like a bullwhip, striking him awake with hard intensity. They didn't reach him in Kagome's whisper; rather contorted in his mind to the memory until he heard Kikyou's yell of accusation.
Inuyasha bolted to his feet in an instant, his face white and eyes wide. His breathing, so calm only a moment before, was ragged. The hanyou backed away from his friend, shaking.
How did she know? How did she know what Kikyou had said as a final parting? It was impossible; she hadn't been there. He hadn't told her. He hadn't told anyone. How could she possibly know?
"No, that's...impossible...how could you....?"
His voice wasn't accusing nor angry. Simply confused, and afraid.
That voice....Kikyou's voice, like a huntress calling her hounds with a voice too pure to bear. Like the singing of a hundred sirens to one ship, the cry of a hundred wolves on a clear night. A voice so painful when it uttered those words that it shattered his heart into a million pieces.
And he'd just heard it again.
She rubbed at her eyes, waking up only as she heard Inuyasha speak. Then the startled Kagome realized what she'd done. Said it aloud … yes, that could only be the thing that could constitute for the desperately confused look on the hanyou's face.
How could she know?
How could she have heard it?
How could she have seen the same image over and over and over again, wanting to run to Inuyasha each time he cried out only to know her fingers would pass through empty space. Kikyou's eyes got more and more fierce, her words with more and more power.
She wondered if she was ever going to wake up. She wondered if it was some new sort of strange torture that she was never going to leave. Waking up was blessed, the serenity she'd found in the few moments before going to sleep had disappeared entirely.
"I – I … did I say something? I had a nightmare."
More like a vision, but she didn't need to say that...did she?
Inuyasha was scared of what she'd done. But why would he be? It was only a weird dream that scared the daylights out of her … but Kagome scared easily nevertheless.
Not that anyone who watched a girl commit suicide would call it run-of-the-mill.
"Why did you.." She paused, a hand lifting to her lips as she stood. "..betray me, Inuyasha?"
Miroku looked between the ningen and hanyou, confused twicefold.
His head starting to shake slowly, very slowly.
"How do you know what she said?"
His words were as slow as the shaking of his head.
Now Kikyou's old words reached him untainted. It was Kagome's voice, and she sounded confused, not angry and full of vengence, as Kikyou had. Still, it's not as if anyone saying those words was a picnic for the poor hanyou.
Said once, they thrust in the steak. Said twice, they grabbed the mallot. Said thrice, they hit the steak deep into his heart.
And she had no idea how much they hurt him. Had no idea those words were Kikyou's last.
Sango could only look from one to the other in confusion, wishing she could help but not knowing how. It seemed they'd be standing here like this for a very long time...
Thankfully - we never thought this would apply to Sesshoumaru, did we? - the hanyou's brother appeared behind the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.
"Having a party?" And without waiting for an answer, he ordered, "Go home."
After all, he had better things to do than listen to his little brother and his friends gabber about something he didn't care about.
Inuyasha turned his white face and wide eyes to his brother, backing into the wall. The last thing he needed was Sesshoumaru bugging him, who was quicker to beat him rather than comfort him.
Kagome had woken up the next day with a sore head. But it wasn't a headache, exactly. It wasn't throbbing. It merely ached. Every blood vessel was burning with some unwelcome intrusion that had abrasively scoured its way to the core of her skull, spreading soft pain through her knuckles and down to her ankles. Her waking had nearly been involuntary.
That was pretty ordinary, though. If there had been a sound outside the door, or she'd smelled something cooking … she occasionally opened her eyes not on her own accord. She wasn't exactly weirded out – she didn't have a reason to be worried.
Even /if/ Kagome was pretty good with her intuition, and something seemed very, very wrong.
The yellow and blue sleepset was no-sleeved, and she wondered why the still rather thick fabric was almost weightless and nonexistent on her body. Maybe she should try to move...
/Crack/...
Itai..
This was a foreign sort of strangeness. Her fingers flexed, and it wasn't a /reflex/. Her arm lifted as if it wasn't hers. Someone else was moving her like a Barbie doll, except there were no jerky movements. Everything was fluid and graceful … a grace that she did not possess.
'She' turned it so that the backside showed, pale flesh, greenish-blue veins slightly visible amidst the parchment hued skin. Her eyes were scanning down it, and a smirk curved along her lips. It was a unfamiliar smile as well. It felt sinister. A bubbling amusement raised in the pit of her stomach, the pain intensified at the fresh emotion.
Did I hurt you?
If she could, she would blink.
The sound was resounding – fantastic acoustics, her body had – and dripping with codeine. The same coating on thick pills meant to put you to sleep … made it go down easier, or something. But the voice was still strange. Sweet and mellow and soft like chamomile tea.
Not her voice.
After a steady, endless check of fingers and toes and muscles and ligaments, she stood and walked to the bathroom, unable to comprehend what the hell was going on. A toothbrush was brought to her lips, and she could feel it vaguely. As if everything was asleep and tingled faintly, blood spinning around to get some feeling back.
Don't worry…you'll get used to it.
Kagome wanted to answer, but she couldn't. Fear spread through 'her' – whatever she had left in the back of this new mind.
Getting dressed was tedious. Whoever this was wanted to rub the pads of her fingertips over everything in sight, and got extreme pleasure out of doing so. She was in utter bliss. This was fun … to put on her uniform and to slip on her shoes. It seemed endless, and the silence pounded.
A visitor in her own head. She wanted to scream, pound, do anything, /something/.
But she couldn't begin to guess as to how.
Poor girl. You're scared.
She felt her mouth spread into a grin.
Don't worry. Kikyou will take care of you well enough.