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Chapter 3: Happiness is a Warm Gun

'Why are they so mean?' questioned the sobbing girl. She had done nothing in her entire life to warrant such treatment, and yet most of her life so far had been a series of one abuse after another. Bare feet scraped against concrete as Kagome fled down the stairs. Her arms were stretched outward, one to balance her while the other hand held fast to the side of the wall as she descended into the darkness of the subway. Her eyes were clouded by hot tears and breathe wheezing in and out of her chest. As she came to a stop at the end of the stairs, her hand still desperately pressing against the wall, Kagome's small body became wracked with a horrible cough. Her free hand grasped her neck, the coolness of her fingers trying to appease the hot soreness of her throat. But the coldness of her hand could not permeate the skin to get to the agitated muscles of her esophagus. She tried to breathe in some of the cold air to sooth the angry pain, but she only began to cough even more and soon blood trickled down her chin.

Her face was so numb that Kagome barely felt the tickling feeling of blood crawling across her skin. It wasn't until she wiped her mouth and looked at the back of her hand that she noticed darkness there. In the bleak tunnel, she couldn't make out what that was, so Kagome back pedaled a few feet and allowed the light of outside to fall upon her hand. It was then she saw the smear of blood across the back of her hand and a confused expression came across her face. A new fear took a hold of her. Was she dying? Kagome numbly returned to her bed, lowered herself onto the worn cardboard surface, and pulled the small blanket up to her chin. Her legs curled and shoulders hunched as her small body trembled in the frigid darkness. What some might be unsettled by, Kagome had no fear of. After living in it for so long, it wasn't a bother anymore. But she was afraid of the loneliness. She knew that in a short while someone would come down and light up the trashcan, but until then, Kagome was resigned to being alone in the darkness. Blood continued to pool in her mouth as her unrelenting cough echoed throughout the subway.

Kagome wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but she found herself being awoken by a rough jostling and a deep, coarse voice asking her, "How much did you get?" Kagome could not bring herself to look up at his expecting face, and she also realized she could barely move. Her muscles had become locked in the position she fell asleep in and it seemed as though they would not defrost. Opening her soft, broken eyes to look up at him, Kagome took a moment to take in his appearance. He was dirty and unshaved, reeking of booze and cigarettes. Behind him, the community trashcan was ablaze and lit up the subway tunnel, its light dancing across the surface of everything. It was a dim light, and this Kagome was thankful for. For a moment, a memory of watching her father go about his early morning shaving rituals appeared before Kagome's watery eyes. She would sit upon the sink's counter and watch, transfixed, as he raked that razor across his cheek. He would playfully dab a chunk of the white shaving crème on the tip of her nose when he was done. Oh how she wished time would turn back. Kagome felt tears prick her eyes.

"Some mean kids stoled it, daddy." Her voice was rough and gravely, cracking and squeaking like no time ever before. This triggered another series of coughs that echoed in the tunnel and Kagome let her head fall. She was feeling so weak all of a sudden. Sitting up, her frail arms pushing against the floor as her body strained to move, Kagome groaned. It was then she was forcefully shoved back onto the ground by the strong hand of her father against her shoulder. She stared up at him, confused and afraid, as he glared down at her with a furious glint in his eyes. She'd never seen such rage in him before, never directed at her at least. She curled away from him like a dog that had been punished. His thick finger pointed at her threateningly as he spoke, voice dangerously low.

"Next time take it back girl." When had he stopped calling her by Kagome? Or by her nickname 'Kiddo'? Now she was 'girl'. It grated against Kagome's soft emotions as she nodded her head vigorously, her mouth clamped shut. "Dammit we need food or we'll die! You're the only one who can get any money around here. Tomorrow you go back, but you'll stay there for the whole day. I don't want to hear any complaining and I don't want to see you down here until the street lights come on. You understand that, girl?" When Kagome once again nodded her head quickly, but silently, her father gave her shoulder a harsh jab, earning a hiss and a desperate response from the frightened girl.

"Yes, Daddy!" She cried sadly, her voice breaking from the force behind it. She tried to stop the coughing from resurfacing, but when she did it only ripped out of her throat even more violently. Kagome watched her father straighten up, and felt her body relax, just a bit. He started to leave her side as a few other homeless men began to follow. Kagome followed him with her blue gaze as he made his way towards the entrance.

"Now me and some others are gonna go scrounge up what we can…you stay here and watch our stuff. Don't let the fire go out. I'll be back soon." And even though he didn't look back to confirm that she understood, Kagome knew he knew she wouldn't defy him. But in all seriousness, what was a six-year-old supposed to do in the state she was in? Even if she wanted to, Kagome could do nothing to prevent someone from doing anything. Not that there was any reason someone would come down here to steal. It was just her father's paranoia.

"Bye daddy." She managed and watched him and the others leave to find some rotten food for their meal. 'He won't bring me anything…I know he won't.' Kagome tried to ignore the angry feelings she had for her father and sat up on her knees. She knew what would get her mind off of her father. With shivering hands, Kagome lifted the edge of the cardboard she slept on and pulled out a thin book from underneath. It was worn from use and handling, but the images and words were still legible to the soul who memorized it years ago. A sad grin tugged at her lips as she stared down at the simple 'Curious George' book in her lap, her dainty hands tracing the cover gently. Bits of the paper were peeling off and a few of the pages were torn, but to her it was as valuable as the day her mother bought it for her. Sniffling her runny nose, Kagome opened the book to reveal a photograph hiding between the first page and the inside cover. It was the last remaining image of them together. It was still perfect, intact in every way. The one item Kagome would not let harm befall was this single snapshot of a happy memory. After taking a moment to rememorize every centimeter of the picture, Kagome carefully placed it under the blanket, where it was warm and unthreatened by the wind.

Returning her attention to the book, Kagome mouthed the words as her eyes trailed the sentences on the page before looking at the familiar illustrations. Her breath wheezed in and out of her parted lips, but she didn't pay any mind to it. Her focus was completely on the children's book in her lap. It was the only thing she knew how to read; only because it was the last thing her mother had taught her to read. Kagome couldn't read signs or the newspaper. No, they were just pretty pictures. Just like her mother's picture. An itch she never could scratch came about and Kagome quickly brought her mother's picture back out. Tonight was not a night for reading. No, tonight was a night for being with the memory of her mother. As Kagome held the picture, angling it so that the light of the fire lit up the photo, Kagome felt her heart lurch as she stared at the image. Her mother was beautiful, with short curly hair and lovely blue eyes. Her smile was sunny and bright. Kagome couldn't remember a time when her mother wasn't smiling. She was such a carefree and loving person, the kind of person Kagome wanted to be but would never have an example to follow to grow up that way. Living on the streets had taken its toll on the once jovial girl. Kagome and her mother were happy in this picture, with a peace sign and cotton candy in her mother's hand and Kagome resting against her back as a baby-carrier was hanging from the woman's shoulders. On Kagome's pretty, chubby cheek a unicorn was painted, glitter framing it. It was from a carnival they had gone to.

A tear drop splashed onto the glossy picture, followed by many more. Kagome was trying very hard not to cry, but the lump in her throat hurt too much. Her nose began to run and she whipped the spit from her chin. "Mommy," Kagome cradled the picture in her arms and rocked back and forth with it. Her soft whines of sadness barely audible to anyone else. She was alone; truly alone. Hours passed by and day turned into night. No sign of Daddy. Kagome had dozed off a bit, but a rat scampered over her leg and quickly brought her back to full attention. "Daddy?" It was dark in the tunnel; the dying fire was the only thing that let Kagome see. She rubbed her eyes and looked around for the other homeless people but saw no one. Not even the old guy with fleas. She stood up and coughed softly. Then, something echoed in the hidden part of the tunnel. It sounded like a large animal; nothing unfamiliar, but always frightening. Sometimes rouge dogs would escape the weather and use the subway as their home, and each time they terrified the poor girl. Kagome began to hyperventilate and ignored her body's protests to stay put. She ran away from the tunnel and up the stairs, eager to get away from the possibly dangerous animal.

The night air slapped her face and cooled her already frozen bones. The building lights illuminated the streets and oddly not many people were out. They were all probably enjoying a nice dinner on this blistering, cold night. Thin arms hugged her small frame, rubbed cold palms against her bare skin in an attempt to conjure some warmth, but the friction didn't help. Her teeth chattered and knees buckled, but there was nowhere to go that offered help to a homeless girl. No, all the soup kitchens were closed and the nearest shelter was a good ten blocks away. She was just about to start crying again when the aroma of cooked chicken reached her small red nose; she looked around for its origin. The building across the street! It had chicken in the window smoking and grilled to perfection. Her mouth watered and her stomach cried out for food. How long had it been since she tasted freshly cooked meat? So long that her memory couldn't recall the time.

Ignoring the ingrained knowledge that all children were taught at the earliest part of their lives, Kagome began to cross the wide street without taking a moment to look both ways. All she could see were the rotisserie chickens cooking in the window, dripping with grease and steaming deliciously. Her stomach growled hungrily, inspiring her feet to travel faster and get her across the street sooner. But in her haste to arrive at the window, Kagome did not see the headlights coming her way, and apparently, the driver didn't see her in time either. A blinding light engulfed Kagome's small body, trapping her in the middle of the street. Her body stood frozen, unable to react. She couldn't see who was driving, but he must have been busy looking at the radio, because when the driver did finally look up at the road, he let out a started cry and slammed onto his breaks. The tires squealed against the asphalt, coming to a slow stop, but not fast enough it seemed. Kagome put her thin arms up to shield herself, and as the car skidded to a stop in front of her, the momentum of the vehicle projected it just enough to knock her down. Kagome let out a broken cry as she toppled over onto the ground, her body getting scratched and bruised by the rough surface. As she lay there, crumpled into a mass of limbs, Kagome's fading vision only saw those desired chickens in the window, beckoning her still. Her fatigue, hunger, and illness were taking over finally, and she was quickly falling asleep. The last thing she heard was a woman's voice calling out. It almost sounded like her mother.