life in moderation
chapter 6: remnants of the myself that used to be
AN: I'm amazed at how many reviews this has! Wow, thank you all! (huggles)
Disclaimer: Do not own.
o
This walk has to be one of the longest I've taken in my entire life. It's not really a long way, though he does live on the tenth floor, and I'm taking the stairs. No, I'm making it long. Stepping slowly, watching my feet. Stopping to look out a window and to collect my thoughts again. It doesn't matter. In a few seconds, they just explode, scattering all over the place once more. Like marbles, rolling everywhere. And I'm just a child, I chase after them.
I never had much fun as a child. Maybe I made up for it with all my boozing, smoking and fucking later on in life. 'Life screwed me over, so why shouldn't I screw it!' I told myself each day. I guess life figured out I wasn't gonna cave, and gave me a second chance. Or I'm just a lucky bitch. Either one is fine with me.
I arrive at another landing, another window. It's a nice clean window, just like everything else here. Hiding so many lies behind a screen of organization. No matter how much you scrub your windows, some dirt still doesn't come off. Being clean doesn't necessarily make you happy, does it?
Through the pane, I can vaguely see our ratty apartment building. I can see the library, and my college, and the high school down the street. I always hated school. I didn't see the point. I don't think I use any of that shit they taught me. Not that I was doing all to well. Dazed by everything they were cramming down my throat, I just stopped listening. I wish I could do that now. Every noise seems amplified, my head pounding. I'm kinda out of it, as if this is a dream.
I hope it is.
I lean my forehead against the glass, and watch people. I'm stalling. I don't want to go up there. I just want to finish this whole thing, and get it out of me. You can't erase your past, but you can damn well try!
One more flight. Then I'm on his floor. The fact that I'm even close to the bastard makes my skin crawl. Like a whole army of centipedes are underneath it, moving as my muscles, lines of tiny ants my veins. I'm a bug girl. But no one bugs me. Wow. I'm so out of it, I'm thoroughly insane. I want to laugh. I feel as if I had one too many drinks, only without the nausea.
One more stair, and I'm at his floor.
I walk up this stair without hesitation, shoes scuffing the floor. I will not go back without this finished. I'm not going to let Kagewaki win. I'll kill him if I have to, to get my way. I start down the hall, looking hard at the wall at the other end. I glance at the numbers on the doors.
123... 125...
A woman walks past me, head down, coat done up tight. My mind is making distractions. Every little thing, it wants to peer at. Anything to keep me here, not in there.
127...
My feet are beginning to hurt. I think I need new shoes.
129.
This door. Painted chipped a little near the corners, the numbers shiny in brass. Behind this door. My ex-fiance, Kagewaki, is waiting for me. He was watching me out the window. Like a vulture. Like a stalker. I could bring the police, but they'd only fuck things up more. And then I'd have other people out to get me...
He must be about twenty-nine now. I was eighteen, I think, when we first met, and he was twenty-five. I feel whorish just thinking about this. I didn't much care back then. Shows how much has happened... have I really changed?
Making a fist, I knock lightly. The sound is empty.
Maybe he's not home. Let's change that, I pray he's not home.
"Come in."
Did I mention how much life hates me?
o
Book upon book, all stacked imperfectly, different sizes, colours and smells. Every book has a smell. Every poem has a sound. Every day has it's own photograph. We're lucky we work in the library, there's a park right behind us that we can see through the windows. The leaves are falling, like a firestorm. I wish I could go out and play in them, but I'm too old for that.
"Meiko-chan..." I look up to see Ms. Higurashi. Her glasses are always falling down, revealing her bright chestnut eyes. She's pretty nice, I guess. She lets me and Kagura get our schoolwork done while we're here, and pays us well. She inherited this libary from her husband's parents, after they passed away.
"Um, yes, Higurashi-san?"
"Have you seen Kagura today?"
"She doesn't usually work Saturdays," I look up from the computer, "But I left her a message last night to come get her jacket. It's that nice black one, with the star buttons... But I don't think she would've come in, she usually sleeps later than this."
Ms. Higurashi looks at her fingernails as if she wants to bite them. "I guess I'm just paranoid. But I have this bad feeling... Maybe I've been listening to one too many of Dad's horror stories. Heh."
She picks up a stack of books to shelf, and begins to head off, but looks cheerily back to me.
"Hey, why don't you take a break? Kagome should go out and get some exercize, too. She's reading downstairs. The rake's in the storage closet."
o
I reach for the door handle, shiny and gleaming. It's cold to touch, my sweat lingering on it's surface. It turns easily, like butter, and it opens steadily without creaking, revealing a decent apartment. A nice living room with a TV and large window, a kitchen to my right...
There he is, in the doorway of the hall.
That's definitely him.
And he looks at me.
"My Kagura."
"I'm not yours, and I never was," I hiss, nails digging into me palms as I clench my fists. He gives me his heavy stare. It's hard to read.
"I think you're wrong, Kagura. I think you have been mine... all along."
If you were seeing him for the first time, it would be hard to believe he's such a monster. He looks respectable, shoulder length black hair tied back in a ponytail, and wavy. He can give an honest smile, though he is a little pale. A blue-striped button-up shirt covers his chest, paired with black slacks and bare feet. What, did he think I would trust him if he dressed nicely?
"That's disgusting," I mutter, and he raises an eyebrow.
"You should shut the door. I don't want my neighbours to become alarmed," He saunters over to the table in the living room and sits down, then clasps his hands, his fingers playing a game with themselves.
"How long have you been here?" I ask, refusing to surrender my escape.
"A while. It's Tokyo, my Kagura, a lot of people live here."
"Stop calling me that!" I can't stand his mouth around my name, the way his lips mold it. 'My Kagura'. I belong to no one but myself.
"Okay. I won't call you 'my Kagura'," he watches me flinch, "If you close the door."
"You're a sick bastard," I tell him, as I reach behind me. Finally I find the doorknob, and turn it as the door closes, the clicking sound slow and eventual. His eyes, blood-shot brown, watch my every move. I am his prey. Never turn your back on the predator. I tell myself I havn't given him power by closing the door. I've showed him that I'm not afraid.
His eyes never leave me. My heart beats faster. He's trying to scare me, but I won't be scared. I have somewhere to go after this. I'm not an abused, niave child anymore. I won't open my body for anyone, unless I want to. I will not let him hurt me.
And despite these thoughts... I feel myself slide.
Maybe I should've asked Sesshou-maru to come. He'd probably say no anyways. It's not his problem. He'd call me weak. Or he might just walk away. He'd write in his stupid book, how weak I was. He's writing about me... does that mean me, myself, or... a person like me, or a person inspired by me or-
"What are you thinking about?"
I'd taken my eyes off him... He stands over me now, almost as tall as Sesshou-maru would've been. One arm holds the door shut above my head, the other hangs by his side, a weapon. I remember I have a knife, and pepper-spray in my purse. Just a small blade, but I thought it would do.
"Nothing," I answer him.
"Why don't you take off your shoes and coat?" he asks.
"I didn't think I would be staying long," No. What I was going to do was tell him to fuck off, and go back home. I'd write my essay. I'd get Sesshou-maru to edit my work when he got home from work. I'd eat dinner and go to sleep.
That was what was supposed to happen.
"I doubt you'll be leaving soon," he says, "We have so much catching up to do."
And this is what's happening.
I move to the side, and cross my arms. He continues to observe me.
"Tell me, who was that man with you?"
"When?"
"This morning. Are you still a whore?" he says the words so casually, you would think they were unoffensive, that he wasn't accusing me of being a prostitute.
"He's my boyfriend," I state.
"Oh really?"
I hate Hitomi when he's like this. Well, especially when he's like this. You can't beat him at words. I just get frustrated. He doesn't slip up, or so he makes you believe. He could have many women, and yet he's coming after me. I can guess why too. It's more fun for him.
"Would you like anything?" he moves back to the kitchen, "Or have you eaten already?"
"How stupid do you think I am?"
He opens the cupboard and gives me that look.
"Well, you're here. Aren't you?"
o
"Nishino-san! Key, Nishino-san! Please stop, I can't run in these shoes!"
I do stop, if only to shut up the voice as she comes to a halt in front of me, panting. She looks up, her cheeks rosy and cold. I think she's a little scared of me. Or else, judging from her personality, she'd call me 'Sesshou-chan' or something. Ignorant wench.
"Nishino-san," she gasps, tucking a piece of short brown hair behind her ear, "Do you know... where Kagura... is?"
Well, I was right. Kagura was lying.
"No," I say coldly.
"Meiko-chan!" a girl's voice called from where she stood beside a pile of leaves, a colourful hat atop her head, "Who are you talking to?"
"Come over here, Kagome-chan," Meiko laughs, "Watch your step. It's slippery!"
Meiko. I've met her once or twice. She's the kind of person who can laugh like that. Freely. They can overlook things other people see. Overlook flaws and pain. Oblivious fools. Or perhaps they've been 'saved'.
This 'Kagome' shuffles through the leaves, hands stuffed in her pockets. Her scarf is wrapped tightly around her neck. It's a wonder she hasn't suffocated. The leaves end abruptly and there is a space of muck and cracked ice before you get to the sidewalk. She tiptoes carefully across it, black ponytail bouncing along with her step.
"Kagome-chan, this is Nishino Sesshou-maru."
She smiles up at me, blushing a little. Not afraid though. Even at her age, as I'm guessing she's twelve, she has a childlike niavete. These days, kids smoke and sell their bodies when they're that old. She seems to have been ostracized of that. And she doesn't know it. Seems the type of girl who lives an untainted life. Life or lie.
"Hi," she says.
A pause.
"I like your coat."
"Thank you."
Conversing with children is awkward.
"You look like someone I know..." she mumbles, more to herself. Meiko tilts back her head, and laughs again, though I don't know why. I wonder how she's able to do that. Maybe she's just plain lost it. Her striped scarf is lifted a little in the wind, and she shoves her mitted hands into the pockets of her carrot-orange coat.
"Well, when you see Kagura again, tell her we've got her jacket."
"Yes, we got your message."
Her eyes light up with knowledge. "So you are together? She hardly says anything about it."
"Sort of."
What other answer is there? I pause.
"Yes."
'Yes, yes, I love her.' a voice inside me whispers. It's become so annoying lately. Yes, I told her I love her. But what does that even mean?
"I won't keep you any longer," the young woman says, starting back into their palace of firey leaves, "I'll see ya around!"
Kagome turns and waves to me. Such a peculiar girl. Acts as if she's eight. But life doesn't wait for you. It continues on relentlessly at it's own pace, no room for mistake or regret. And to that girl, there is no mistake, no second thoughts. No sadness.
I wish Kagura could be a child like that. But even as a child, I bet she was lonely.
o
He stirs his tea. Circular motion, the water rifting and making waves against the sides of his cup.
"So," he says casually, "Which topic is first on our agenda?"
My eyes downcast, I mutter something.
"Could you repeat that? I don't think I heard..."
"My father."
Hitomi stops stirring and lifts the tea to his lips. No sugar, no milk. Must be bitter.
"Your father..."
end of chapter 6