Chapter Fifteen

 Broken Glass

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Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me. Distracting, reacting. Against my will I stand beside my own reflection. It's haunting how I can't seem... To find myself again. My walls are closing in. Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take. I've felt this way before, so insecure.

Crawling Linkin Park

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Bath time Inu Yasha! a voice yelled. Not that it had to. He loved water. Loved swimming, loved baths, loved everything about it. In two seconds flat a bare naked half breed boy was running into his bathroom, eagerly awaiting his bath. Well you seem excited little one! his mother sad cheerily, kneeling down to eye level with the naked little boy. He made a dopey smile and nodded his head, throwing locks of silver hair around his face.

Now go bathe silly! she said swatting his butt as he ran into the bathroom, squealing childishly. He slipped into the bathtub and sighed happily, feeling dizzy from the sudden rush of blood to his head from the heat

He sunk, chin deep, into the water and goose bumps arose everywhere on his soft flesh. He rocked back and forth, the motion of he water propelling him front and back. Of all the things he liked about his home, he loved bath time. He loved the feeling of water. Loved the warm comfort of it, loved the fact that it covered every inch of his body in its warmth. It made him feel calm and almost tired, He just ... loved it.

He started to raise his arms to put them behind his head and rest his head upon them, but as he did this the large bruise on his upper arm caught his eyes. It was a dark cruel shade of purple. Taunting him with its dark color and hurting him with its soreness. It just seemed to scream evil things to him. Things he didnt want to hear. Things he wished would just leave him alone so they could let him be happy. His narrowed eyes closed to prevent tears from filling them as he pulled the arm around to the back of his head.

He got out half an hour later. His cheeks were blush pink from the hot water and his white mane smelled of lavender and jasmine shampoo. A fluffy red towel wrapped around his waist, barely hanging onto his trim waist. He stopped in the middle of the bathroom before the giant full length mirror that hung upon the door. He looked at his reflection and was almost shocked to see it.

This... this is not me... he uttered silently, as he reached out his hand to touch the cold glass, almost as if to see if it was real. He prodded his reflection and then touched himself, and repeated this again and again. His face looked confused. This person in the mirror, it wasn't him. This person was ugly and scary, the monster all the children at school were laughing at. How could they be the same? From a distance, the person looked like him, but this, this wasnt him.

Or was it?

Had he changed? Was this what he really was? A monster. That would be able to explain a few things but that answer did not satisfy him. He put his palm against the glass and felt the warmth from it instantly leave as the cold mirror came into contact. He saw the image in the mirror follow his actions and the palms met.

His mom often told him stories about him. Stories of wild adventures and terrifying monsters. He realized that the Inu Yasha in her stories was different than the Inu Yasha in the mirror. And the Inu Yasha in the mirror was different than him. The Inu Yasha in her stories wasbrave and strong. He could lift boulders and kill monsters. He was confident and kind hearted. And now, looking back on those tales, the Inu Yasha in the story was not him at all. He was the monster. He was the dragon or the ogre that was slain by the brilliant imaginary alter ego his mother made for him.

His hand slid down the glass and fell to his side. Continuing to glare at his reflection he lowered his head and glared at it. It glared back. He raised his upper lip and snarled, bearing a small white fang. It mimicked. Raising his head he looked sadly at the boy in the mirror, the bitter glare of defeat beaming at the child through his own eyes. This sad ugly boy couldn't be him. He knew it! But there he was standing in the mirror looking straight back at him. And mirrors don't lie. he said softly he then yelled. Before he even realized he had done it, he pulled his arm back until his fist could have grazed his cheek and then released it, sending it flying towards the boy in the mirror.

The glass repelled his attack and the ball of his fist bounced off like a rubber ball. So he tried again. He punched it again and again, until his arms were tired. With each small, insignificant blow, the glass shook, but not once did it fracture, crack, or even show any sign of damage, it only shook against the wall, which it hung from. So he kept punching fast, and harder, and again and again and again. Again. And again. And again. Until his arms were sore and his hands felt like they were going to fall off.

However he refused to stop until he had killed the boy in the mirror. But yet, every time he tried to punch the boy in the mirror, the boy also punched back, and their fists met at the mirrors smooth glossy surface. If only he could break the glass, he thought, he could get rid of the boy in the mirror. And if he could do that, then he could be a good boy. Then people would like him. Then he could be happy.

If only he could get rid of that miserable child!

Why wont you just...go away...? he asked inbetween blows and labored breaths.

His punches started out rapidly. At first they were in rapid succession of each other, one after another after another, so that the sound emanating from them sounded more like that of a person shooting a machine gun than that of one punching their reflection. However, after time had taken toll on his small arms, they were slowing down. His breathing was labored and heavy. He punched very slowly and breathed heavily inbetween. Giving one last punch his eyelids closed and he collapsed on the cold damp bathroom floor. His little body lay curled upon the granite floor and his crumpled fists sat in curled balls aside his head.

His eyes shot open and he jolted upwards. Covers slid down his torso and he brought his hand up to his chest. His rapid hartbeat shook his very flesh. He took a deep breath and waited for himself to calm down. A dream?' he thought, then after some consideration, No. Not a dream. A nightmare. In fact, even scarier than a nightmare. A memory.'

He stood and walked into his bathroom, and stood in front of the mirror hanging over his sink. He looked fine, his face alit with the light from the moon. He stared long and hard at his image, every second, his hazy vision distorting it, until he couldn't clearly make it out his own face. Until at last, he pulled back his fist and slammed it into the glass, watching in amazement as it fell to the ground in a thousand shattered pieces He had done it! Broken the glass!

But, disappointingly enough, there was nothing behind it. No perfect world, no other place, not even an evil child he had to kill. Just a plain piece of wood backboard which stared back at him. He found himself quite relieved, seeing as he really didn't want to fight any evil demon children at the moment, but found himself somehow disappointed that there wasn't anything there. He had always wondered what was behind mirrors.

When he was younger he though that maybe there was another world. Like an alternate universe, like something out of the matrix. Sometimes he would look into the mirror and imagine a world where everything was perfect. There were no women getting raped or murdered. There was no heart brake, no wars, no hate. There were no little boys with abusive fathers. There was just quiet. Peace and quiet. A world without pain, a world without suffering. This world did not exist.

He took a careful step back, pushing the glass into a corner of the bathroom with his foot. He never liked anything sharp or pointy. Wherever there were sharp and pointy thing, there was blood and cuts, and wherever cuts fade, scars remain. He hated those too. He had too many already. He could do very well without any more, thank you very much.

But one thing that amazed him was that he could break the glass. He remembered before that he couldn't penetrate its surface, no matter how hard he tried. But now, in one punch he had shattered the entire mirror. He had gotten stronger. And despite his hand, now covered in blood, he was left pretty unscathed. He liked this feeling.

"Mommy!" he called. "I got my pajamas on!" he called, waiting for the sound of flittering footsteps to come towards his room. They came as he expected and he dove onto his bed, pulling covers up to his chin. He actually had a real bed. His room was small, but the apartment they were living in was just as small. There were two bedrooms, one kitchen, one bathroom, and an area just big enough to squeeze in a makeshift formica dining table.

The knob turned and the lock clicked and the door came open. His mother trotted up to his bed and sat next to him. She smoothed the hair away from his face and smiled. "Night Inu Yasha." she said and kissed his forehead. She always kissed him there. Never his cheek, or his head, always on the forehead. He asked her once why and she just shrugged and said that if she kissed his forehead no one will have to know about it and he wouldn't be embarrassed. He grinned sheepishly and snuggled deeper into his sheets.

"Wow..." she said absent mindedly. "You're already in first grade. Your getting so old so quick." She looked at him and smirked. "When did you get so big Inu Yasha?" she asked rhetorically.

"Um ... I don't know?" he answered stupidly. She laughed softly. "What? Why are you laughing?" he asked sternly.

"No, it was just cute how you said that!" she said and ruffled the hair on top of his head, fingers gently brushing over soft dog ears. He gave a half grin and scrunched his eyes together as she rubbed his head.

'You think everything I do is cute." he grumbled cynically and snorted.

"That's because it is!" she said high pitched tone. He rolled his amber eyes, trying not to let his smirk be visible to his mother. She corrected the messy hairs on his head and kissed him once again on the forehead

"Hey mom?" he said and she turned her head to him. "Sing me a song." he said. She smiled at him and tapped her chin in thought before she openess her mouth and sung him to sleep.

Inu Yasha? Inu Yasha? Awake yet? Inu Yasha' His eyelids parted slightly and clamped back together at the bright sunlight that penetrated his window. What?' He sat up slowly, supporting himself with his arms that were behind his back. What the...? Shippou slid down his chest.

Inu Yasha? Said Shippou whose image was becoming clearer in Inu Yasha's eyes as he rubbed them. What are you doing on the bathroom floor?On the what? he looked around him. He was laying, as Shippou said, in the middle of the bathroom floor. And all around him was shattered glass. Taking a sharp inhalation of air, he picked up Shippou and held him tight to his chest. he squealed. Don't come in here! You'll get hurt, or cut your feet or something! he got up and carried him to his bedroom.

What were you doing in there any ways? he asked, setting Shippou on his bed.

Well, um, I had to wake you up. he said.

Why? You usually sleep late. he said, curiously. Come to think of it, you sleep an awful lot... Cats ...' -1-

Well, I mean, It is Monday, after all, and I just thought- he screamed, throwing on a clean...er pair of clothes than what he had on and running out the door. He was late for school. Two hours late for school. He ran as fast as he possibly could, ignoring the pain he received from it from his arm


Author Notes

Sorry this chapter is so short!

-1- Cats- Ever notice how cats always sleep? All my cat does is eat and sleep. Lazy arse.

Oooh, I like this chapter. It has so much self loathing and scary flashbacks in it! Er, flashback/dreams. But in it, you get a taste of his feeling of worthlessness and self hatred. And in essence, how he thought that if he could get rid of himself, that he could be happy. Its almost suicidal if you look at it a certain way. But you do get a good smack of what Inu Yasha thought of himself when he was little, low self confidence. And, the lengths he went through to get rid of himself, even if he only tried to destroy his reflection, it was still subtly hinting at the thought that he was trying to get rid of his own self.

All in all its a pretty dark chapter, though I do like the part with Shippou at the end, where Inu yasha is lying in a pile of broken glass in the bathroom and he's all freaked out that Shippou will hurt himself on the glass. Kinda cute. This chapter is rather short though... I am sorry.

Next Chapter? Unlucky