Fire and Ice
She could hear muffled voices. They were talking in low, hushed tones, right outside the door. She propped herself up off of the hard wooden floor of the small room. It smelled musty. The rain must have come.
She lay her back against the wall, minding the scratch marks down her back. The pain was no longer as intense as it was, now reduced to a small burning. It wasn't what bothered her the most, though the others seemed to find it the most unsettling. It must have been because he caused it.
She shivered.
She could still feel his hands on her. The nimble fingers removing the harsh leather that clung to her body. She could still feel his icy cold body hovering above her, the sweet vanilla scent of his hair mixing with the smell of his sweat.
She could hear footsteps. They were walking away.
It wasn't the first time. But they didn't know that. If they knew they probably would abandon her, look upon her as some perverted, disgusting thing that would threaten their lives just to get her fill.
But that was how it was.
She needed him to make her feel whole and numb at the same time. The icy cold that clung to his pale body would numb her, taking her away from the world for the time being. She would give anything to cling to that coldness just one more time.
Just one more time.
The door opened.
Kagome walked in, her long raven hair in disarray, her green and white uniform wrinkled and ripped. Her eyes were puffy, as if she had cried for a long time. The young girl walked over to the sitting form on the floor and sat next to her.
"He's gone. Don't worry." she cooed, petting the woman on the head as if she were a child.
She sighed, wishing that she could just tell her what had really happened. Tell her that she had given herself to him so many times.
At first the thought of him made her sick. Back then she could never even think of having the tall, cold man push himself inside her and make her writhe and scream.
But then Miroku left her. All that love…all that time. It was gone, just because she couldn't trust him to stay faithful. How ironic.
She had run then, kept running until she couldn't breath and her chest was burning with the need for air. Kept running until she finally came to his door. She must have looked so pathetic, crashed and broken, grasping at his door like it was the last solid thing she had ever felt. Then he opened it.
She had never, ever thought that she would give herself over so easily. She practically begged him to take her, on the very stoop if he so wanted. Let the forest see her naked and vulnerable, legs spread to a stranger who struck fear into her heart even as he froze her with his touch and melted her with his passion.
But he took her inside. His room was surprisingly colorful.
Kagome continued to pet her hair, absentmindedly still saying words of comfort to her, as if she needed to be comforted. No one could give her comfort now. The cold. She needed that cold. Everyone here was too warm.
All she could really remember from that first time was the pain. The sweet, burning pain that he loved to inflict, throwing her against the wall and scratching down her skin, kissing her so fiercely that she felt she would be crushed, felt his hatred for humans in every thrust, so deep and rough that it danced the fine line between pleasure and pain.
She could hear more footsteps. Miroku walked in, his dark eyes afire with anger. His hand gripped onto his staff so tightly that his knuckles turned that shade of blue-white, the shade of skin stretched too far and for too long. Skin stretched in anger. He looked down at her, his eyes softening a little. She once loved this man, but now felt so tainted and tired that she could barely meet his eyes. For some reason, the room seemed to be getting darker. The clouds must be gathering. Probably just another storm.
"I'll get him for you. Don't you worry." his voice sounded strangled. A million unsaid words hung onto his sentence, begging to be let out. She could see his visible struggle with them. Would he tell her what he was thinking? She should beg to hear them, beg to hear those three words that women dream about.
But she couldn't beg anymore. She had done it for far too long.
He loved it when she begged. She knew that it made him feel stronger, that it played off of his hate. Her whimpers of protest when he stopped his movements would quickly make him start again. Even when she was in pain, and begged him to stop, it would only excite him more. Every time she was bruised, cut, broken, abused, and every time she went back for more. She loved the burning pain that accompanied his thrusts, for he was too large for her. The burn chased some the coldness away. It made her feel sane.
She looked at the wall past Miroku's head. Shadows played on it from the outside. The room seemed cooler, and she suddenly felt the urge to sleep. But she kept herself awake. She could hear Kagome and Miroku talking, but she didn't care what they were saying. She was burning and freezing at the same time. She was so tired.
He loved to take her against a wall. He would throw her up against, wrapping her legs around his waist, and take her there. She knew it was because on the bed his hair would get in the way. That long, silver hair had been his only warmth. When they lay on the bed, it would cover parts of her, feeling like obscene silk, warming up her body and bringing her back to reality.
She lay herself back down on the floor, hating the feel of the itchy blanket, but too cold to let it go. The scratch down her back was burning. Miroku knelt down and grabbed her hand, his thumb rubbing her palm. She wanted to look into his eyes, but her eyelids felt so heavy. She decided that she would sleep soon.
He loved to cut her. The site of her blood seemed to excite him. She could see him sniff the air, reveling inn the scent of it. There was nothing better than his soft tongue lapping the red, sticky fluid from her body. It was almost gentle. She would lay naked on his bed and endure the scratching of his sharp claws down her back. But soon his tongue would touch her, and make her shiver. But it never lasted. He would force her around and they would begin again.
She never knew that his claws were slowly poisoning her.
She only sometimes actually enjoyed it, but still she kept going back for more and more until it was hard for her to walk, hard for her to keep it a secret. She wanted nothing more than to cling to that hard, sweating body and bury her face into his hair. There was something about his body, with its thick, corded muscle just under the surface, that excited her. It was something she knew she could never get with Miroku. His body was lithe, graceful. He would never be able to freeze her like she wanted.
The burning was getting worse. She coughed, and felt thicker liquid than saliva spatter her lip. Kagome and Miroku yelled something, but she couldn't hear them. Did they walk away? Or did she have a head cold that made her hearing distant? She felt Miroku's warm hand on her cheek and it burned. She tried to turn her head, but she couldn't move. The burning was spreading through her body, as if every vein was on fire and screaming out for help.
She never loved him. She couldn't. Now she realized that he was killing her. The ice that she had so sought after was burning her up inside. She deserved it. She knew he hated humans, hated them more than anything in the world. Why couldn't she see that until now? But still, she wanted to feel that numbness once again. All she could feel now was the fire, melting her inside, melting through all that cold.
She could see the outlined form of Miroku above her. Her sight was blurry. She looked up at him, wanting to speak but not knowing what to say. He touched her cheek again and uttered words that she couldn't make out. Tears dotted his eyes. She breathed heavily and finally felt her eyes close.
In the blackness right before death, she had always been told that you see the one you most remember.
She saw Sesshoumaru. And he was weeping.
-FIN-