life in moderation
Chapter 7: Red in Black Lace
OooOoHis walls are frickin' lavender.
I sit at the table, while he leans on the counter, sipping his tea like the Queen of frickin' England, and you know what colour his walls are? Lavender. Not violet, or any other colour of purple. They're lavender. I snicker quietly, running my hand across the top of the table lightly.
"Something funny?" he asks blandly, making me laugh harder. Damn! He waits until I quiet down, and then we resume our little chat. The kitchen is large, and his apartment rather empty, so any sound echoes just slightly. I've always wanted to be in a cave, and scream, and hear my voice echo forever, away from me, until it was just a whisper.
"Does he know I'm here?" I ask.
"Who?"
"You know damn well who."
"No," he sipped his tea, out of hig mug. You don't drink tea in a mug, you drink it out of a cup. Coffee comes in mugs. It's one of those unspoken rules.
"Well, where is he now?"
"Still in Kyoto, I'd imagine."
Yeah, we lived in Kyoto before. Not that I liked the place all that much. Too much of reliving former glory. Some people don't know how to move on. The festivals were fun though, I guess. And there were some nice girls... emphasize 'were'. Until they reached about sixth grade and thought they were 'popular'. I wasn't up to caring. No, I was too busy taking abuse at home to care...
"My sister?"
He gives a smug smile. "Which one?"
I roll my eyes as if I'm twelve. "Kanna. She's seventeen now."
"With your father still, I suppose," Geez, he's being such a well of information today, "Unless she's run away. Or died. Or something to that effect."
He knows very well the many ways of 'dying' when you're associated with people like my father...
"Are you going to tell him?" I hear my voice rise, the edge becoming sharper.
"That depends," he puts his mug in the sink, the sound metallic and empty.
"On what?"
"What you want, of course." He says it with such a straight face, I want to vomit.
"Bullshit."
"You know yourself, how tough this world can be," he stares me in the eye, and a strange feeling of nausea rises in me, "You're reckless, Kagura, you could be killed in an instant. But there are powerful people, like myself, and your father. And sometimes these sort of people can make things easier."
"What's he offering you?" I spit, standing up. The chair screeches against the floor, but he doesn't even flinch. This is like in a movie, and I'm the daughter of the mafia, just trying to get out and have a nice life with her boyfriend. Bang! Here comes her evil ex-fiance, who wants her back at any cost! Cue gun fights and sappy romance scenes, bad gore and a too-happy-to-be-real ending.
"I want you to marry me."
Right on cue, Hitomi.
"We could patch things up with your father," he continues, almost sincerely, "Live in a big house, by the ocean. You could have anything you want, Kagura."
"No."
He raises an eyebrow to this. "Why not?"
"Are you kidding me? You're practically quoting a fucking movie!" I'm on the end of my rope, so high above everything, just swinging, "I'm not going to hand myself over, like a possession, to you of all people! Really, Hitomi, I though you would know better! I hate you! I hate you for what happened!"
"You blame me for who you are, is that it?" he asks, "For being a whore?"
"Shut the Hell up..." I hiss, ready to bolt. He takes one step, and my muscles tighten. Should I be afraid? I think I am. My heart is beating fast, as if I'm a hummingbird. He's always had eyes that scare me. They possess you. Something in them, while he stares at me, it leaks into me. Maybe this makes me a little afraid. But I guess I have right to be. Even though I gave up being afraid a long time ago.
"I came here to clear things up," I say firmly, "That's it. Now, if you don't have anything more to say, I'm going to go home, and you will never speak to me again. Do you uinderstand me?"
He takes yet another step forward. I take one back to even things out.
"Naraku was right," he whispers then, admist the rumble of the trucks driving down the street beside and below us and the dripping of the faucet.
"You are more beautiful when you squirm in daylight."
"Shut the Hell up!" I suppose my lines are on cue as well... according to script, probably. He knew I wouldn't give in, so he smirks.
"Kagura, I will be the one to break you..."
OooOo
Through the window in the back, I can see the leaves, a bright palette of autumn. It'll be Hallowe'en soon. I hope Kagome will be going trick-or-treating this year again. Some kids her age think they're too cool. They're growing up far too fast! When I was twelve, I wasn't thinking about getting a boyfriend, or the things that went along with it. I don't think I even knew what half the things I've heard she and her friends talk about were when I was that age.
Meiko grabs a handful of leaves and throws them into the air. She and my daughter watch them fall, then sit back into a pile they made. I hope they come in soon, it's getting chilly... but that's just the mother I am talking. After all, Souta is home sick with the flu. My father is taking care of him while I work.
I push up my glasses, and pick up the last stack of books for shelving on the upstairs level. All the Kids books go downstairs, and everything else is up here. It's an old building, fairly large and made of brick. It's beautiful, though some people claim it haunted. I guess I would too. I have felt what I thought to be him here...
I make my way to the Young Adult section, the only sound my footsteps. It's unnvering being alone like this sometimes. Maybe I'm paranoid.
Oh! I guess I'm not alone after all!
A pale girl sits on the couch, a book in her lap. She looks up at me, her face near emotionless and eyes glazed over with coldness. They're coal black, her eyes. Probably contacts, they're all the rage these days, aren't they? She nods quietly to me, then goes back to the book. It's quite a thick one, and kind of old looking. Funny, she doesn't look much older then fourteen, but most kids that age wouldn't be interested...
While shelving, I watch her from the corner of my eye. Her hair, so blonde it's nearly white, is thick and hanging about to her collarbones, pinned back with barrettes near the same colour. She wears a white coat, which is kind of strange, since most people perfer not to, as they get dirty so easily.
I don't believe I've seen her around before...
Finally done my shelving, I bring up the courage to walk over to this eerie girl. In my calmest of voices, I ask her if she needs anything. And slowly she looks up from the book, and shakes her head.
"I'm fine."
"I see. Well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, alright sweetie?"
That was probably the wrong thing to say. Kagome hates it when I call her sweetie. But this girl just nods, and re-merses herself in literature. Her hands are shaking lightly as she holds the book, her eyes red. Poor thing seems like she's stoned... Is that the new thing, reading while you're stoned? I can't really deny them the library though... I know very well this is a refuge for some kids.
I decide to head back to the front desk. It's a Saturday, so there's bound to be people here. Students and the like.
And still, I'm perterbed by that girl's face.
Such loneliness...
OooOo
He wants to break me? He can try. I will not break. I refuse to break. I survived all the shit the world tried to shove down my throat, and I am not breaking just because one asshole won't get out of my personal space.
But obviously, Hitomi has other plans. He turns back to the mug he put in the sink, washing it out, and then reaching for the pot of tea he has sitting on the table.
"Do you remember, Kagura, when we first met?" He watches the tea dribble into his mug as he contiues, like he knows my answer already, an obvious 'No.'
"You told me you wanted out. But I didn't want to tell you that was impossible. It is, you know. You were adopted by Naraku, and this decided a sort of destiny for you. Someone will always be after you, trying to kill you, for something you've done. And you can't just stop doing things. You have to finish things, but finishing some things starts others, and it's just one long chain reaction you're stuck in the middle of."
"Well, I think I've been doing a pretty good job of staying on my own," I snap. He puts the pot of tea back on the counter, and reachges to the drawer for a spoon.
"How long do you think I've been following you, Kagura?"
I remain quiet.
"No, really. Guess. I want to know what you think."
Swallowing to wet my throat, I search for a number that would make sense.
"A week or two?"
It comes out all wrong. Instead of sharp accusing words, they're soft, and uncommanding. Just weak.
"Try three. Three that I've known where you were exactly. Known you were in the city, over a month. It's almost Hallowe'en, and I was looking forward to a little mischief. But I got impatient. And others got impatient."
My fists clench at my sides, but I continue glaring steadily. "Who knows I'm here?"
"A few coordinates, that's all. Some men you may have met yourself, at our dinners. Remember how you used to sit on my lap," I can almost hear him lick his lips, though I refuse to look at him, "And sometimes you'd feed me, with your sexy dress coming down too low. Then do you remember what happened the majority of the time?"
I do. I have a cursed memory, it loves to remember every little detail, but I bite my lip and pretend I don't.
"Are you sure, Kagura?"
He leaves me a small time, as if to allow me to think, before I hear his footsteps coming closer to me.
"Then you would put your hand between my legs, while we waited for desert to come. Most of my friends were in the washroom, and you were supposed to be chatting with their concubines. But I was lucky. I had no need of concubine, for I had you. And you'd tease me for a few minutes, just enough to tide me over... Stroking me. You stroked me, Kagura, and you purred like a kitten."
My stomach wretches for the fifth time in a short while. He sips the tea, quietly, and none spills. I've turned again, so I can see him. Yelling at him now would do no use. He's just teasing himself, that's what he's doing. He can only push me so far before he'll get bored.
"Do you still wear red with black lace under all those clothes?" He sips the tea again, licking a drop that comes over the edge, "I'm sure he can't afford that kind of silk for you."
I meet his blood-shot eyes. "I'm not in it for the sex. I'm not a whore. I have a life, and I'd appreciate it if you would leave it alone."
"I bet he wouldn't appreciate you in the way I did. Tell me, does he have whipped cream handy?"
But I can only take so much...
A hand firm on my purse, I shake my head in disgust. "I'm going to leave now, Hitomi. Good-bye."
"There will never be a good-bye," he sets down his tea, as I take slow steps towards the door. The slush from my shoes sullies his carpet, navy and thick. I guess he thought lavender and navy match or something. Unless he didn't decorate this place himself.
"You told me, that night when you were drunk," I stop, wanting to hear him finish, and he takes a step forwards, "You wanted a house by the sea. I can give you that. I can give you a beautiful wedding."
"I hate you, Hitomi."
"And you told me," he continues, ignoring me, "When you were resting your head on my stomach after your orgasm, that you would name the child Kanna if it were a girl after your sister. And that if it were a boy, you'd name it Tadeka. Because you were pregnant, Kagura."
Why can't he stop!
I whirl around, keeping my hands near my purse in case I need to pull out my pepper spray. Then again, he's closer to the utensil drawer, so he'll get the knives... Unless I can get to the door first. Damn being short, his strides are lengthier than mine.
Damn him! Damn it all to Hell!
"I'm guessing you got rid of our child..." Another step towards me. Just a few metres and a kitchen table separate us. I can't believe I told him that! I'm so stupid! But why wouldn't I? I was drunk, he was the father...
"Actually, I checked the medical records of the hospital you went to, you got an abortion a month after you ran away from me. Like you were trying to purge me of you. And yet you could've just married me..." he side-steps, as to avoid the table, his hands in his pockets, "And you could've saved the life of our child."
Our child, he says, our child. I'm going to throw up, soon, if I don't get the Hell out of here...!
"They would've been beautiful, just like you... so beautiful... and it would've had my eyes, I know... you wanted to get rid of it, so it wouldn't feel like I was watching you when you slept anymore, was that it?" He takes two more steps, and I pull my bag into plain sight, as to threaten him.
"Stay the fuck away from me, Hitomi!"
Well, maybe I told him when I was drunk, but I was also stupid enough to have left the pregnancy test in the garbage of his washroom that day. Girls in high school got pregnant before, but like everyone, I never thought it would happen to me. I guess I was different, though. I was nineteen, and I had a ring. I had an escape. But it seemed so tasteless and vile in the morning. Watching my own vomit swirl as I flushed it, I couldn't take it.
And I knew he would sleep late.
He was inside of me.
So many times...
I hate the thought of the pleasure we raped of eachother. I hate the thought of all of it, of the strip-teases I did for him and his friends when I wanted some extra cash. I hate that I let him touch me, and actually liked it. I hate that I touched him, and heard him like it, felt him respond, hard and warm. I hate the feeling I can remember of him inside of me, giving what is called life to me. I hated that month I lived, paranoid and sick, before finally I emptied myself.
I tried so hard to get all the dirt off. It's coming back like a disease.
And it's obvious, that now he wants it again. Was I special or something, that he wants me as his doll?
"This is it!" I yell, "I'm going!"
I turn and sprint for the door, glad I left my coat and shoes on, but he covers the distance between us quickly. I feel his hand between my shoulder-blades, shoving me into the mock-wooden surface. I feel my face hit the door, the muscles burning and numbing itself. My nose hurts the most, and I've bitten my lip so hard that I can taste blood. I melt to the ground, and I glare up at the shadow of my past that is Hitomi Kagewaki.
"I hate you!" I say, groping for my purse, which I vaguely recall dropping. He kneels in front of me, resting his knee on my one ankle, holding the other with his hand. His face fills my rotating and darkening vision. Tilting in and out of reality, I swear, I'm going to throw up...
His hand grips my cheek, cold, and suddenly I'm struggling, arms thrashing with all I have. I use my fingernails as weapons. I think I catch skin, I hear the scratching, slapping, but he only leans in further. I can smell his tea on his breath, as he lets his hand wander down from my face, tracing the neckline of my T-shirt.
"Do you miss wearing the red with black lace? It fit you so well, I could barely control myself when I saw it peaking out from under your shirt. You were such a skank, Kagura. But at least I didn't have to pay you..."
Red. The colour of a prostitute. That's what colour nail polish they wear. It was red, like my lips, like my blood, like my eyes. Red, the colour of sex, lust, power. That was the colour I wore.
His breath comes closer, and under the tea is stench. I try to push him off me, but my small arms are nothing compared to his mass. I am nothing, but I won't break. I push at him still, I would claw my way through his breathing corpse to get out. I will not break... will not give up...
It feels like a movie, as his tongue touches the spot right beneath my earlobe. But in a movie, Sesshou-maru would burst in here before Hitomi was able to get much of my clothing off. And Sesshou-maru would rescue me, valiantly, with his strength and charm. He'd carry me off, where we'd embrace and live happily ever after and nothing would be wrong.
But this isn't a movie. Sesshou-maru isn't coming. It's just me, trying to push Hitomi off of me. Trying to figure out how I ended up here, on the foor... under him. He nibbles at my collarbone, and places on my neck, to tease me, to make me squirm. I hate it. He tried to pull off my shirt, but I clamp down my arms, and refuse him. I hear it stretch, and almost rip. A piece of my armour that he tries to strip me of.
His hands move down further...
I protest, but he will stop for nothing...
But I won't break.
I tell myself this many a time, as his lips capture mine, barbarically, a savage version of passion. I don't want this.
But right now I can't do anything to stop it. No one is coming to save me.
I haven't given in, no...
I lie to myself.
"I love you." The wetness of his tongue touches me ear, and I flinch, pulling away.
"I hate you."
His tongue comes again, tracing down my neck. "Good girl."
end of chapter 7