life in moderation

chapter 10: love is a place

AN: Whoot! 10 chapters!

I hope this chapter works out and makes some kind of sense. It was frustrating, yet fun. The title comes from a Metric (a band no one's heard of) song of the same name, which I adore.

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

There is a never-ending silence where there used to be something. It stayed that way all night, and it has not decided to let up this morning. The éclairs sit in their brown paper bag on the counter, untouched.

I shouldn't be worrying. Surely it's nothing harmless, and Kagura will come back soon because she was visiting an old friend, or something of the sort. And she'll laugh at me being worried about her. But then again, maybe she's lying dead somewhere, so I shouldn't be worrying because it doesn't do any good.

I sip my coffee, and my computer whirs as it changes song files. Parts of my shirt are becoming wet as droplets run off my hair to darken the material, like tears or rain. In my hands the cup is warm, steam rising, twisting and twirling from the surface. I turned up the heat a little, but I'm still cold. It's going to get a lot colder though. A whole lot colder.

This is ridiculous. If I sit around waiting for her to call, to come back, she won't. It would be better to just take my mind off things. How the hell I am supposed to do that, I would like to know.

It's finished. What I've been writing. Last night I wasn't able to sleep (really, who would be?) and it just came out. My editor is coming soon to discuss it with me. I've already sent the draft to him, so if that goes well, we'll be able to move out of this little place, into something bigger, something nicer. Not as nice as… places I have lived. Then again, this apartment has a certain atmosphere that would be almost difficult to leave. I've been here a few years, so maybe that's why. After you've known something or someone a long time, you begin to feel attached. Which is why some people are wanderers. They don't want to become close to something, vulnerable. But that fear in itself is their weakness, their blindness.

The phone rings suddenly, and I put my mug down onto the table. I don't even bother to look at the call display, just pick up.

"Hello?"

"Sesshou-maru."

She, being Kagura, says it clearly, without a 'hello', or even a question. So sure of herself.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine… Well, no, I'm not. Could you come and pick me up?"

"Where are you?"

She tells me the street, and that she's using the pay phone outside a café. There's a pause as I write it down, and I hear her fiddling with the phone cord, probably letting it coil around her finger like a tiny black snake, squeezing just tight enough to leave an impression.

"All right, I'm coming," I say. "Just stay where you are."

A pause.

"I love you," I murmur, and wish I could do more than just tell her that right now.

"Love you too," she whispers, and I hang up. Grabbing my coat, I head out the door, leaving my coffee on the table, forgotten.

o

I look like shit.

Water still clings to my hair, tickling the side of my face as the wind touches it, as if teasing me. I draw my arms tighter around myself, looking up and down the street. After calling Sesshou-maru, I went into the café's bathroom and was able to wash my face and hands. I guess I can't expect to look all that great, after waking face-up in an alley.

My coat is in a bundle beside me. I can't wear it; it's covered in blood. I'm glad no one had decided to inquire. That would make for fabulous conversation, now, wouldn't it?

My stomach aches for food, though I already had a bagel and coffee from the café. I still have a few bucks left, but I don't want to go back in. He should be here soon. He probably took a taxi, since we don't have a car.

Though the streets are full and alive, with a man basking with a scratched up guitar a few stores down and the sidewalks packed, it somehow seems quiet. And it's obvious why.

A taxi pulls off to the side and slows down, and I get to my feet immediately, swiping my belongings before someone else can. I stare at the door as it opens, unable to see the driver through the tinted windows. A silver head emerges, and golden eyes scan the crowd as he stands to full height, looking like a king among peasants. No doubt he thinks he is.

I rush over to him; I can't help myself, my legs moving of their own accord. He turns to me, and for once his face isn't expressionless. It's filled with concern and something else, and never in my life have I been this happy to see anyone!

Hurrying awkwardly towards him, my purse swings with the beat of my half-run half-walk, hitting against my thigh, the strap rubbing against the cold skin of my arm. I look up and the pain half relinquishes itself, or maybe I'm just forgetting about it. All I know is that it's warm as I feel his arms wrap around me and pull me in. He stumbles back but one step with the force from my run, pulling me closer. Burying my face in his chest, I can smell him, smell the coffee on his breath. A strange sense of security blankets my heart, swaddling it gently.

His lips caress the top of my head, so lightly it's hard to feel. I hear him whisper my name, but everything seems so far away. Instants pass where I fear he'll push me away, yell at me for being so reckless, but he doesn't. He doesn't hate me, like I've begun to hate myself. Instead, he runs one hand through my hair, which I just left down and messy since I couldn't do much about it in the dimly lit restroom. I'm sure I'm ugly and smell like crap, but I don't really care. He looks just beautiful though, and if I looked up, I bet he'd be blushing, even a little.

He guides me into the taxi, and I lean back against the seat, listening to the buzzing heater and the low drone of the radio. The driver pops her gum, giving me a wink in the rearview mirror, from which hangs a mini Sailor Mars plushie (also winking). This vehicle smells like cleaner, and hints of lemon cover what is most likely tobacco smoke.

"Back home?" she asks, and Sesshou-maru nods as he reaches over to do up my seatbelt. I close my eyes, listening to the sharp metallic snap that comes before we drive off. There's a small bump, and I'm partially slammed back, the rough material of the seats pressing into my back through my T-shirt, the clip of my bra pinching skin.

A hand comes to rest on my shoulder lightly, and I half-open my right eye, tilting my head to look at Sesshou-maru.

"Will you be my pillow?" I ask in a lazy voice, my body asking for food and a proper rest. Sleeping on the ground in the cold doesn't exactly leave you bright-eyed and bushytailed. You know, if I had a tail…

"Sure," Sesshou-maru mumbles and I grin, leaning over to lean on his shoulder. I wrap one hand around his upper arm, like a child would do with a sleep toy. He's just a teddy bear underneath all his smart-ass comments and glares. Just a really big teddy bear…

The hand formerly on my shoulder moves down to adjust to my shape, and comes to rest on my knee, his thumb running small circles on denim. As we turn a corner I'm pushed further into him, and his hand is jolted to the inside of my legs, though he moves it back seconds later.

"Kagura."

"Mm?"

He pauses, and I can feel the muscles in his arm stiffen, the invisible designs he draws on my leg becoming quicker.

"You… You went to see your ex-fiancé. Am I right?"

What a way to ruin a moment…

I lick my chapped lips, drawing in thick breath. I still don't open my eyes. First, because they probably wouldn't if I tried. They feel glued shut. And secondly, because I don't want to. I'll just stay safe here, in the dark.

"Yeah," I cut him off before he can say anything else. "I needed to finish things. I had to… get him out of me. It sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"No. But…" The circles get a little more desperate. "But you were gone all night."

"I didn't go to him to cheat on you."

He sighs. "That's not was I was worried about. Kagura…"

The silence eats away at us as he looks for words, and the sounds just said decide to come back to me, teasing my ears with their sound.

…didn't go to him to cheat on you.

Something stirs, deep inside of me, making me feel ill. That was the truth, so why is this hurting me?

Truth. Truth as I see it. Truth as I want it to be. Something becomes true when it is false; when something cannot be false it is true. I didn't want Hitomi in me, tasting me. That is my truth. I didn't want to be there at all, and I despised him. I still do.

But did I want him to die?

Obviously Sesshou-maru knows something happened, as he asks so quietly, "Did he-"

I cut him off once more, not wanting to disturb the taxi driver out of her little mind. "Let's talk about this at home."

Yeah. We'll go home, to the crappy little apartment we live, breath, sleep and love in, and maybe I'll have a few minutes of nothing before everything decides to come banging on my door like a hurricane.

We reach our building sooner than later, and Sesshou-maru gets out first after paying for the ride, while I struggle with my seatbelt. Never liked the damn things. I knew a guy, way back when, who fell asleep at the wheel and survived only because he didn't have his seatbelt on. I'm not sure how, but that's what he told me. I catch my finger twice before getting it off, and by then Sesshou-maru is waiting for me. I give him a look, refusing to budge, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Let me guess; you want to be carried."

"…yeah…"

To my surprise, I feel one arm scoop under my thighs, pulling me up off the seat, while another arm dives behind my back and holds firmly to the side of my ribcage, his fingertips tickling the side of my breast. He carries me bridal style out of the taxi and up to the door. By this time I've wrapped both hands around his neck, pressing my ear to his chest to listen to his heartbeat, steady and loud in my head. The man coming out of the building holds the door so we can get in, and I hear Sesshou-maru thank him before I sink back into the blanket of warm blackness.

No one I've ever known would've done this for me. They'd hate me, or just not care, not even noticing if I left. They'd be too wasted to empathize, and I'd probably either become more wasted to try and forget, or begin drowning in myself, with no hands to pull me up. I'd begin tearing at my arms, my hair, locking myself into the closet so no one could hear me, though they were making love in the next room over, and I could hear perfectly, every rustle of clothing, skin rubbing against skin, every thrust, every scream as they climaxed. I remembered I had no one at all, that no one loved me. They loved having sex, and getting stoned with me, and I did too. But it never went beyond that, and at the drop of the hat we would part ways without even missing each other.

You hear all sorts of things in closets. Some you may not want to hear, and some are your own screams, that you trapped in there so no one would notice just how much you've been bleeding.

It's different now. I want to hang onto this because it actually means something. And I love someone. That alone keeps me afloat.

I can feel his arms supporting me as we get closer to our door, closer to our home.

"I'm going to have to put you down now," he says. "I have to open the door."

"Mm-kay." He lets go of my legs and they swing heavily to the floor. I get my bearings, then slowly release him, while he fumbles for the keys. Finally the door swings open, and he takes my hand, pulling me quickly inside. The door closes and we are alone from the world.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asks me as I'm being led down the hall. He pushes open the door to the washroom, and I hop onto the counter while he starts the bath.

"Anything," I say, forcing my eyes away from the mirror, the place they keep straying. "Can you make eggs?"

He nods, heading for the door with quick steps, pausing once he's there.

"We'll talk after. You're a wreck."

"No kidding." I reach for the bottom of my shirt and try pulling it upwards, but this proves more difficult and painful than I had anticipated. Sesshou-maru stands in the doorway, staring at his feet. I hop off the counter, back to him, wincing at the pain in my lower abdomen.

"Do you need help?"

"I'll manage," I say, pulling the shirt over my head. My hair becomes infused with static, clinging to my face and electricity nipping at my ears. From behind me there is a sharp intake of breath, and I freeze. I hear him approach, and a kiss is placed on the back of my neck as he sweeps my hair away. Fingertips begin to trace the large indent in my back. I have been careless.

The scar is deep, spreading outwards from the centre of my back. I haven't seen it all too clearly, only in mirrors, and it was once half-revealed in a picture someone took. It looks like a spider. My father's calling card. One of his favoured homicide methods; spider venom. He invited people over for dinner sometimes. After the meal, Kanna would retreat to her room, and I'd try to find means of escape. Sometimes, though, I would stand outside the kitchen and listen with sick fascination. As he sipped the blood-coloured wine, the guest would begin to choke. The next hour or so would be utter torment, until my father knew all he needed to know.

Then he usually said something sick, but clever.

And then there was one less person in the world. One less person in my father's way.

Sesshou-maru's fingers sink into my flesh, following the spindly legs that reach out, as if trying to capture me. He moves to my arm, and the tiny cuts from the glass, along with a small bruise forming on my shoulder.

"We'll bandage these after as well," he tells me; then his touch disappears and I shiver, feeling myself wanting him to do it again. The touch was exciting, comforting. The scar will not fade, but its sharp memory can be softened.

But I guess this isn't the time nor the place, as the door shuts and he exits quietly. The bathtub is nearly full, the water still pounding against the sides. The surface of the mirror is covered in whitish steam, and I lean over to it, tracing an x. In the lines I can see myself peeking through.

I leave my clothes on the floor and sink into the water, numbingly hot. Now more than ever, I can feel the pain of my misused body, and I hope I'm not pregnant, that there's not another piece of it growing inside me once more. A while ago, I can't remember when, I heard someone say that there are two kinds of people in this world; those who destroy and those who create. I think I was chained to the destroyers for so long I became one myself.

Strands of black float weightlessly around me in the water as it laps at my shoulder and I sink further in. It comes up over my ears, and the silence gets louder. I can hear it flowing, my feet tapping against the other end. I close my lips and eyes, letting it swallow most of my face. I stay that way until my lungs ache, then come up for a quick breath before going back down. Inside of my head I pretend it was a nightmare. That's all it was.

I squeeze a blob of shampoo into my hand, light yellow and blobbish. It smells nice, clean, and I scrub my head until it hurts, scrub my whole body, but it seems like it's still there. The blood. His stain is on me, inside of me.

His eyes, so wide and mad, keep staring at me when I close mine. He keeps chasing me, chasing me…

The water drips rapidly from the end of chunks of hair, collecting into droplets before falling. The air seems cold as I bring myself to stand, leaning against the wall and trying to keep my footing. Bumps ripple over my skin, and a chill rakes through my body, the muscles in the back of my neck tensing painfully. Quickly I step out, snagging a towel from where it rests on the counter. I wrap myself in its soft and warm blueness, pressing it onto my hair to try and dry it quickly. After pulling the plug so the water can drain, I close my eyes, so I don't have to see the mirror. So I don't have to see myself.

I wrap the towel tight around my abdomen since I have no clean clothing and would much rather not put on the dirty ones. Finding an elastic, I pull my hair back to the nape of my neck, feeling coolness drip down my neck still, like cold dead fingers.

I guess I'm a murderer then. If I wasn't before, then I definitely am now.

I open the door, watching as steam billows out with me, and peer into the kitchen. Sesshou-maru sits with his back to me, and there's a plate on the counter beside him, along with a cup of coffee. He must've heard me, because he glances back. My hand reassures its grip where it makes sure the towel stays up, and I try to smile. I think his eyes sweep over me, but I don't feel violated, or even embarrassed.

"I'm gonna go get dressed," I tell him, and he nods.

I pull on a tank-top and some pajama pants, since I seriously doubt I'll be going out today. I don't bother with anything else and immediately head out into the kitchen, my stomach turning a little. After snack will come story-time, just like in kindergarten, only what I've got for show-and-tell isn't a doll or a picture from my trip to Disneyland. No, I have a whole photo album full of scars to show, layers and layers of people I've been, tried to be and escaped. But now that this me is soiled, will I be moving on? I don't want to. I feel safe here. I like it here.

Sitting down beside Sesshou-maru, I quickly scarf down breakfast, or brunch, I guess, though I feel a little sick. Living feels so weird now. Almost like it's a dream.

He waits patiently until I finish, then leads me over to the sofa, clutching a roll of bandages and a bottle of disinfectant. It stings, but I clench my teeth and wait. The liquid splashes into the tiny wounds, and cloth is wrapped around my arm. My mouth stays closed, but what happened is bubbling, and wanting to come back up from inside of me. After trying so hard to forget, I almost don't want to tell. But maybe burying it won't work.

I want to forget…

It should hurt more, shouldn't it? Maybe I'm just getting used to the feeling.

I don't want to feel this. Nothing, yet everything all at once.

There are a few cuts on my chest, as well as my forehead, so the bandaging takes a little while. I stare at my lap, feeling Sesshou-maru's breath lilting over me. Finally, he sets the roll of cloth down on the table and the stinging begins to fade. My hair is still damp against my head, the taste of eggs on the roof of my mouth. Giving a sigh, I draw my legs up onto the couch beside me, and let myself lie down, head in his lap. He seems uncomfortable for a second, my eyes half-closed and the world hazy, but soon I feel his hand resting on my stomach. It's natural, and I actually feel safe.

"What happened?" he asks quietly. And I begin talking.

"He wanted me back," I start, voice sounding far away, as if I've been hypnotized, "but I didn't want to go back. We started arguing, and he… he used everything I said against me… everything that had happened. I tried to leave, but…"

Tears well up in my eyes, my throat tightening as if hands of a ghost are trying to strangle me. Inside my head there is more pounding, and every emotion of the last day and a half reminds me it was there, painfully.

"…r-raped me," I manage, the waves of memory rolling out before coming back in, higher. "I passed out for a while. He locked me in his room, for… it was dark when I got out, I…"

The shattering of glass is vivid in my head, clear, shiny pieces reflecting the light of the city. I see my face in it, a bit of my blood…

"I smashed his window…" I can say with almost a smirk, but it dies, my voice becoming thinner, wispy and lost. "I… pressed it to his throat. Just as a threat. So I could… get away. But…"

But I killed him.

"He… leaned forward and… slit his own throat."

Red, like the blood pooling on the floor…

"With my hands. He killed himself. He's dead."

Dead, dead, dead.

Made him go away…

"I ran outside and fell asleep in an alley," I finish, deciding to spare the details. "I woke up and phoned you. I guess that's it. Don't worry about the bastard's body; someone in the business took care of it."

I'm pulled tighter towards Sesshou-maru, drawn up so my head rests over his heart. Like a broken doll, I don't move, just shivering and trying to keep myself together. I want to laugh, strangely enough. Everything seems funny, so goddamn insane and out of my control. Clinging to the material of his shirt, I try to calm myself.

I don't know what I'm supposed to feel.

"I don't want to go to work today," I mumble.

"You don't have to," he tells me. "But you should probably go see a doctor."

"Mm-hm."

I let my body go limp, let myself be held and cradled. We sit there for a while, barely speaking. He murmurs things to me, and it seems to be getting closer, but whether I've stopped running or I'm the one catching up, I'm not sure. My eyes are closed, and all that exists is us. After a while my heart stills, and it's just warmth, comfort. Just us.

No Kagewaki, nor my father.

I'm safe, I'm home.

"You were right," I tell him. "Seeing a doctor would be best… since…"

The rest of that sentence hides somewhere deep inside of me, leaving the silence to speak for itself. The situation is like worms crawling up my throat. It's still not quite gone. I slide off his lap, head reeling as blood rushes from it. His warmth vanishes, touch disappearing, and I'm reminded so indignantly that almost everything I've ever known has become evanescent.

"The walk-in clinic isn't-"

"Actually, I was thinking of a place… I used to go to. An underground place." I swing my legs over the side of the couch, trying to regain feeling in them. "I can take the bus."

"I'm coming," he says forcefully as I stand, a little off-balance.

I say nothing as I push myself to stand, suddenly shrinking within myself. The insides of me are hollow, devoid.

"Kagura."

I twist my neck from side to side, trying to send messages to my muscles for them to start working again. That would be nice. I head over to the door, annoyed as I realize I have no jacket or coat to wear.

"After what's happened," he continues, "I will be escorting you to work, and class."

It'll be so safe inside my cage.

No escape from inside the cage.

I'm glad he chose the words he did, because quite frankly, it's beginning to scare me. The time we just spent has the feeling of a memory now, a weird twisting in my chest. I like it but…

I'm scared.

I feel a coat draped over my shoulders (I guess neither of us cares that I'm still in pajama pants, eh?) and the crinkling of a paper bag being pushed into my hands.

"Those are for you," Sesshou-maru tells me, slipping on his shoes. I stuff my feet in mine, crushing the backs of them, and look into the bag.

Chocolate éclairs.

As we step outside, I lean into him, the warmth coming back strong. I'm being cornered now, and I am afraid, but I love it. I love him. This isn't the cage my father stuffed me into. I can let myself fall back on something…

Safe.

We walk aside one another down the hall, my body still hurting, and my head still screaming. I bind my fingers through his, wondering if he can feel me shaking. Everything is opening up. There was no room for this before, only my anger and hatred, what I could salvage of my wrecked self, enough to survive. But I can open up those doors I locked so I wouldn't become weak and end up more damaged than I was.

"Thank you."

o

Lakes of vermilion against cold patterned tile.

Shards of glass hiding under the flesh.

Eyes wide and laughing, as the corpse is dragged away.

Winning and losing are fickle actions.

The game never quite ends…

end of chapter 10