He's been drinking again.

Who?

Him. My father. Well, not really my father; more like my stepfather.

Oh. From the way you say it, the drinking must be significant.

(hesitant pause) Yeah. It is.

In what way?

(silence)

Kagome? Is your father's drinking bad?

Is drinking ever good? On the rare occasions of sobriety, he says it calms him. But that's not true. I know that.

What does it do to him?

I...(hesitates)

Take your time. I don't want to pressure you; you don't have to tell me if you--

I wish I could say it changes him, but it doesn't. It just worsens him. When my mother was around, he played the best father in the world, so out of obligation to my mother, I played a daughter just as good.

But...when she wasn't around...?

(sighs) The usual. Beating, raping—it was almost routine, to be honest.

(shocked silence)

(bitter chuckle) Balled over, are you? Get over it. It happens.

(tries to recover) No, that's not what I...it's just that...that's not normal.

(sarcastically) Gee, really?

I'm sorry.

Don't be. It's not your fault.

So...what happened to your mother? If you don't mind me asking, that is.

No one ever really doesn't mind, do they? They say they don't, but it's a lie. It still hurts inside. Sure, I mind, but I'll tell you anyway. Even when he drank, he was as sweet as an angel around her. I think he really loved her. But I couldn't say for sure. (turns head to side, eyes listless) When he raped me, he called her name. Still does. Even after all this time...

Does...that bother you?

(head turns sharply to glare at her) No, it doesn't bother me at all that my stepfather calls my dead mother's name while he rapes me. Doesn't everyone? Of course it fucking bothers me. What do I look like, some kind of sicko psychopath?

I'm sorry.

(sighs in annoyance) Whatever. (turns head again) She died of, uh, what's that thing? Leukemia? Yeah, that. Chronic type. Slow killer, you know.

I do. I'm--(stops at irritated look thrown her way, looking embarrassed) It's a habit.

It's a bad one. Stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault; it sounds like you're overcompensating to me.

(looks at her in wonderment) Kagome, if you don't mind me saying, you seem like quite an intelligent girl, so there should really be no reason for your bad grades, even with the problems at home.

(sarcastically) Oh, please, forgive me for being too distracted by the bruises and gashes on my body, inflicted by my drunken stepfather, to concentrate on schoolwork. I've been such a bad girl! I don't need him telling me that, let alone you.

(looks embarrassed again) I'm, uh, sorry.

(annoyed) It's fine...are we quite done here?

(checks watch) Five more minutes, but I suppose we could take an early day. Is there something you have to do?

Not really. I don't have much of a life, but you knew that.

Kagome, you really shouldn't say you don't have a life. Everyone has a life.

Not my grandparents. Not my father. Not my mother. They don't have lives—they're dead. (gets out of chair and heads for door)

That's not what I--(cut off by slammed door, then sighs)--meant. Never mind...

Kagome stormed out of the school, then slowed her steps as she came to the sidewalk. She was in no hurry to go home. That scene in the school psychologist's office was one of many stifled temper tantrums she'd barely managed to keep from exploding into actual violence. Her violent streak was inexplicable—no one in her family had the temper she did, and she resented herself for it. It was the one thing that set her apart from the rest of her blood family, as well as one of the several things that made people think she was her stepfather's blood child. Not only were they both unnecessarily rampageous, but both of them had black hair and fierce gray eyes.

Her fists clenched angrily just thinking about their obvious similarities. It made hating him that much easier. Her perpetually bad attitude was why people tended to avoid her; she just seemed to exude fury, and it repelled her peers. But she didn't care. Who needed friends, anyway? They liked to ask too many questions, and sooner or later, she'd end up hitting them.

But as she headed into the forest closer to the beach and farther from her "home", she began to calm a little, remembering the psychologist's advice a few months before.

I feel like I've just got all this...pent-up anger inside of me, you know? Like I need to hurt something...or kill something.

My. That...um...(looks slightly uncomfortable) That's a bit disturbing.

Thanks for being so blunt.

What I meant was, that's not healthy. Anger eats away at your brain, then eventually the rest of your body, until you're left with nothing but an ulcer like a black hole.

(grimaces) Ew.

Ew indeed. You should find an outlet for your anger. Other than hurting or killing something, try simulation, or perhaps a calm sight.

Simulation? What do you mean by that?

I mean something like a punching bag. Something inanimate, something that won't feel the anger you're venting onto it. You could join the kendo squad, or take up tae kwon do.

I don't think so. Having people bark orders at me only makes me angrier. And that punching bag idea won't work either. What about the calm sight thing?

Go somewhere that calms you. Somewhere untouched by your problems.

(thinks a moment) You mean like those pretty places you see on calendars and computer desktops?

(smiles) Exactly. Have you ever been to the beach around sunset?

No. It never crossed my mind that I could actually go there then.

Whenever you get some free time, you should. It's quite beautiful. It's been known to soothe even the most troubled of souls.

(snorts) Then it should be perfect for me, then, huh?

I hope so. You really must control that anger.

Yeah...I guess.

A smile, small but significant, touched her lips, and she walked faster. She was a good half-mile away from the beach, but it was okay. Anything to keep her away from home.

This was the thought spurring her on, until an hour or so later, when the sun was low in the purple-splotched sky, and Kagome moved a dense cluster of branches out of her pathway, only to see a lone figure perched on the rock she usually sat on. She stared at the figure, flabbergasted.

What the hell is this?

Distantly, she found it somewhat ironic that her anger was building in a place that was supposed to calm her.

I'll be damned if I share my peace with some other bastard!

Petulant and feeling worse than when she had come, she whirled around and started back home. Kamikaze would kill her for coming in so late, but she would barely notice. Stomping through the brush, she grumbled under her breath.

Stupid—I can't believe this! I walk all the way here, just for some asshole to steal my calm! Now I'm gonna get my ass kicked for...ugh. Whoever that fool is, they better not invade my space again or I'll fucking murder them.

It was three in the morning and Kagome was still nursing wounds. Kamikaze had gotten a little more besotted than usual, and hurt her accordingly, but she was so angry, she was able to fight back. She'd squirmed out of his grasp, grabbed his bottle of vodka from the kitchen table, and slammed it upside his head. As far as she knew, he was still passed out.

However, though she was happy about this vengeance, she was still mad about the strange invader, and depressed that Kamikaze would clobber her even harder next time for her resistance.

Ah, well. (sighs) At least I knocked him the hell out before he could try and rape me tonight...God, this is so fucking...ugh.

She winced as she applied peroxide to a particularly nasty gash she had.

Dumb bastard. (growls)

When she was patched up, she put on a pair of dark purple basketball shorts, a black tank top, and a pair of matching sneakers, and left her room. Lights were on all around the house, and she cut them all off except the living room light. She kicked her stepfather in the gut for good measure, then walked out the front door. Kagome looked up at the moon overhead, cloaked by cerulean clouds, and began to walk. She hadn't snuck out of the house in quite some time, but she knew where she was going—into the city, where a huge ferris wheel rotated at night. She liked to admire the lights of the city from afar; she certainly couldn't do it often, but when she did, it calmed her significantly. She figured it was just what she needed to take her mind off of her many problems.

The air was warm, a sign that spring was ending. And when spring ended, that meant summer could begin, which meant it could then end...The point was that time was passing, and quickly. The quicker time passed, the shorter amount of time it would take for Kagome to finally turn eighteen and leave the hellhole of a home her house had morphed into since her mother's death all that time ago. Her seventeenth birthday...she shuddered to remember. She'd had a miscarriage that day and was hospitalized for a few weeks due to some serious internal bleeding. Kamikaze didn't even care that she'd lost the child he impregnated her with. If anything, the beatings worsened.

God...if only I could kill him and not go to jail for it.

She wasn't worried about any afterlife consequences, though—she already knew she was going to hell, or whatever happened to those punished by the gods. After all, how could she not? She'd obviously done something wrong, so this was her divine retribution. She was probably a murderer in a past life or something. Kagome chuckled at the thought. It would certainly explain her knack for violence.

The silence of the backwoods in which she lived began to fade from her ears, replaced steadily by the sounds of inner-city life. She looked up at the wheel, illuminated by several different colors, and continued walking. Outside the wooden fence gates of the midway, she accidentally bumped into a young man standing with a group of males. They reeked of smoke. The man scowled at her.

Watch where you're going, bitch.

His friends, obviously just as idiotic as he, laughed, and Kagome narrowed her eyes, deciding to ignore him...for now. She continued on her way into the carnival grounds, her mood spoiled, but she figured that once she was on the wheel for a little while, she would be okay again.

I won't worry about it. That ugly fucker's got something coming to him, just he wait...