Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.

Chapter Eight: Facing The Past

I went to work as usual that week. Calling my mom and telling her I was visiting on Saturday was a joy I didn't particularly care to indulge in but a joy I had to endure nonetheless. Inuyasha went back to where he stayed for the week so he could work, promising to be back that Friday. I daydreamed through work, my insides constricting tighter everyday with nervousness.

By the time Friday came around, I couldn't eat anything. Inuyasha made me eat until I couldn't move, though.

We sat silently in my living room watching a movie, his arm around me. Mu Mu sat on his lap.

"Mu Mu, you're such a little whore." I teased. The cat mewed affectionately. The cat had been spending every second she could with Inuyasha. I snuggled close to Inuyasha closing my eyes.

"You nervous?" Inuyasha asked. I nodded. "Don't worry."

I tried not to worry but the wrenching in my gut wouldn't quit.

I tried to fake being sick that Saturday.

"Kagome, stop acting like a child and get up." Inuyasha said, yanking the covers off of my naked body.

"But I don't want to go. I'm seriously sick, see? Feel." I said, pointing to my forehead. Inuyasha cursed and bent down, scooping me up bridal style. He carried me to the bathroom. I tried to look deathly sick.

Inuyasha set me in the bathtub shower-combo and turned on the water. "Shower. Now."

Inuyasha left and I did what I was told.

I decided to skip eating that morning. This time, Inuyasha didn't push it. He and I sat in his car, driving down the highway, rock music playing softly. I stared out the window, trying not to throw up what wasn't in my stomach.

"Inuyasha," I said softly. "I'm scared."

Inuyasha gripped the wheel tightly and I felt the car accelerate slightly. "I know."

We pulled into the parking lot for the airport. We boarded the plane. The plane flew to Tokyo. We landed. Before I could blink, we were in a rental car. I was surprised when Inuyasha knew exactly where he was going. His memory amazed me because even my memory was hazy.

When we pulled into the driveway of my old house, it was like stepping back in time.

I got out and looked at the place. It hadn't changed one bit. Inuyasha held my hand as we walked to the door. I reached for the handle instinctively but stopped myself. I didn't live there anymore. I knocked.

I heard the bark of a dog on the other side of the door. Since when did Naraku allow dogs? I heard a female voice scolded the dog who, in turn, whimpered. I heard the scurrying of paws as the dog retreated. My mom answered the door.

"Oh…my Kagome." My mom said, tears in her eyes. She hugged me. She kissed my cheek. I was unresponsive and I could tell that hurt her. She led us into the living room. I looked around. The house was too quiet. At least, quieter than I remembered.

"Mom…where's Naraku?" I said, still standing. My mom looked sad for a second and I called out to the slimy, filthy, son of a bitch that I let touch me all those times. "Naraku?"

When there was no answer, I started to get angry. "Naraku!"

I began to look through the house. I was suddenly spilling with the urge to get revenge. I wanted to kill him. "Where are you, you bastard?!"

I circled back into the living room. "Mother! Where is he?!"

I was panting as I waited for an answer.

"He's gone. Him and that child of his. Gone, just like that. The day you called was the day he left." My mom said softly, a little confused by my anger. I stood there in disbelief.

I looked to the door. "Mom, there's something you should know…"

Inuyasha had stayed in the house, consoling my mom who was sobbing. I told her what Naraku had done to me and that I knew it wasn't her fault, but she kept moaning about how she should have been smarter. How she'd let down her only daughter. I told her it was okay but she wouldn't believe me. She just cried and cried. I couldn't be around it, couldn't handle it. I sat on the front porch, my head in my hands.

So he was gone.

Naraku must've known I was coming to expose him. That's why he left. I kept telling myself that I had won. This time, I had come to face my demon and my demon ran from me. That's better than revenge.

I went back into the house, through the front door. I stood against the door for a moment, staring up the stairs. Without thinking, I slowly began to climb them. Nothing at all had changed about the stairs or the hallway it let out to. My old door was still black, still had the brass handle. I stood in front of it for a moment. I looked at the grain of the wood, the black paint glossy, bringing back so many memories of me rushing into the room it concealed to hide, wait for the day I would find the freedom I sought.

I took a breath. Held it. Opened the door.

I slowly exhaled and looked around. Everything was the same. The bed was in the same spot, the red bedding tidy. My posters still hung on the wall as I had left them. My dresser stood against the one wall. I looked around. The only thing that changed was the thin coating of dust that settled over everything. The room had a dead feel to it. It even smelled dead; a musty odor hung in the air.

I walked to my stereo that was near the door. The stereo had helped me block out all the bad things in my life and helped to give me hope. I owed that stereo a lot more than a person should owe a mere machine. I ran my finger over the top. I rubbed the dust in between my thumb and finger.

I walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer.

My book collection stood there. I took out my favorite book that was on the top and flipped through the pages. I smiled faintly at the memories I had of high school, sitting at lunch, reading. They weren't exactly happy memories, but memories all the same. I closed my eyes and brought the books pages to my nose.

They didn't smell the same. They smelled better, older. I always thought old books had a certain musty, sour scent to them. The smell made the books seem wise in a way. Like they knew everything about anything. I set the book down and closed the drawer. I turned around.

The room was my haven, my playground, when I was too weak to face the world. It represented my old life. My old life and hope.

I had spent hours in that room hoping my life would turn around. And it did. I got Inuyasha. Naraku was gone. I was finally at peace.

I walked over to my bed and picked up my pillow, smelling it. Faintly I could smell the type of shampoo I used to use. There was no doubt in my mind that my room hadn't even been entered in the five years I was gone and I was marveled that the scent had remained for so long. Or maybe I was just imagining the smell. Either way, it was oddly comforting.

I set my pillow down and sat on my bed. The springs still squeaked the same. I closed my eyes.

Everything had changed for me. Mostly for the better.

I opened my eyes and looked around. As I looked, I remembered all the times Naraku had put his hands on me and violated me in that very room, on that very bed. I stood.

This room, no matter how good it had been to me, was still part of my past. It was still part of the cancer that helped to slowly destroy me. Even in all it's familiarities I could feel the backdrop of evil that hid under the walls, that thickened the paint, curled the posters.

I stood by the door, grasping the handle. I turned and looked back at my room one last time.

I shut the door on my past.

R&R.

WH