literature

Street Life: Chapter 6

Deviation Actions

Published: Jan 9, 2012

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Literature Text

_{Kikyou looked into the mirror, perfectly focused on her features, wanting to be perfect. I'm better than Yura. Her lips were perfectly red like roses, soft and succulent. She slowly brushed bangs away from her eyes, carefully overdriving each of her delicate features. Her stark black hair fell perfectly, hanging loosely around her shoulders, the layered bangs framing her face quite nicely.

"Well don't you look lovely?" A bitter voice called from the doorway where a willowy woman stood, arms crossed over her prominent chest. Her lips were incredibly thin and lacked much color, very pale, making her look sick. Bags hung under her sunken brown eyes.

"What do you want, mother? Don't you have work?" Or something to do besides ruin my life?

The older woman's cold eyes narrowed, frowning, "You look like a prostitute, Kikyou. Are you bringing a man here?" Her mother, Harumi Iwasaki had once been very beautiful, though after she'd divorced Kaede's father, she'd become a heavy alcoholic, and now was just an empty shell running on autopilot most of the time. She worked, drank, and slept. She'd left her oldest daughter to raise Kaede. "That's sickening. You're a little slut."

Slut. That word seemed to be aimed towards her a lot, especially since the accident.

"Please just go." Said the younger woman, in desperation.

Frowning, the woman shook her head, "I won't have a whore staying in my house."

"Then it looks like you'll need to hire someone to cook and clean and take care of Kaede, since you obviously can't handle it." Retorted Kikyou, narrowing her eyes. "Did you know that a boy pushed her down in gym yesterday? Or that she aced her math test? What kind of mother are you?"

Within two seconds flat, the woman's hand struck her cheek, hissing at her, "What would you know about being a mother? Do you have a child? No." These words would string, and she knew that quite well.

Just about three or four months prior Kikyou had been pregnant with Naraku's baby, but just around twelve weeks in, she miscarried after falling down the stairs leaving the apartment. She'd become extremely depressed and gone through a period in time where she was addicted to self-injury. The nineteen year old had slit her wrists and been stuck in therapy until she quit two weeks ago.

Kikyou's eyes watered, though she wouldn't cry, for fear of ruining her eyeliner, "Get out."

The woman frowned deeply, then turned and left without another word, leaving her daughter to wallow in her misery, indifferent and unsympathetic.

It took a few minutes for the heavy-hearted woman to recover, but when she heard a motorcycle outside, then a few minutes later, a soft tap on the door, her heart skipped two beats. One last glance around the room, checking to make sure everything was tidy, she hurried over to the door, though trying not to seem too eager, let Naraku in, shutting the door behind him.

His arms were around her waist before she could even turn around, kissing her neck, brushing hair out of the way as he did. "Well Kikyou, don't you look pretty?" Naraku's voice was soft, delicately sinister, but gentle, just above a whisper.

Kikyou's cheeks turned a very light shade of pink, leaning into his touch. When his hands went under her shirt, they were ice cold against her stomach, making her shiver. "Holy shit, your hands are freezing."

"Then you can warm them up for me," he whispered into her ear, kissing her hair, pressing closer to her, one hand against her stomach, the other on her waist, grinding lightly into her rear-- though, she tensed up after a moment.

"Wait, wait, wait," Kikyou looked up at him, brows knit in confusion, hoping he wouldn't react violently toward her interruption. "Not yet. We still need to talk about a few things." Despite how little confidence she had, she talked a good game-- her words were fierce, firm and she didn't let up even when he pressed. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend again?"

Groaning, a bit irritated, the older male scowled, "Why do titles matter?"

This, in Kikyou's mind was a round-about way of saying something akin to; 'No, I don't want you to be my girlfriend, I just want to sleep with you and break your heart all over again, whore.' But of course, could she be blamed? He'd cheated on her, and his treatment towards her had never been the best. Especially after I lost the baby… He was so angry. "Naraku," she heaved a sigh, "If the answer is no, then why are you even here? I'm not going to just be that girl anymore. We can't change what happened, so… If you don't want something serious with me, then there is the God-damned door." She extended a hand, long, slender fingers with red nail polish pointed towards the closed door behind them, "You're welcome to go, and I won't even be mad. But I will not be played again."

Frowning, Naraku yanked her into a kiss, pressing the woman against the wall, growling into her ear, breath hot against her sensitive skin. "What kind of shit are you tryin' to pull here, Kikyou? Actin' brave 'n all that isn't gonna get you anywhere. You know you're mine." This bitch is not going to ruin my plans.

"I am not!" She pushed him away as hard as she could, causing him to stumble back a bit, tripping over a few loose items on the floor, crash landing and catching himself on her curtain, elbow smacking against the window, causing it to break-- which left his arm bleeding. Hollering angrily, Naraku got to his feet, striding over and striking her hard on the cheek. Kikyou turned her head to reduce the pain, but it still hurt either way-- especially since she'd already been hit there by her mother only fifteen minutes earlier. That's going to be one ugly bruise… and then I really will look like a prostitute. Fuck.

"You little fucking bitch! Did you suddenly decide to end your life a little sooner than intended?" Blood was dripping from his arm, down onto her pretty white blouse, imbuing it. The angry hanyou grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the floor, kicking her in the side and leaving quickly, grinding his teeth, lips curled in a snarl. Damn it Kikyou! Always the fuckin' martyr.

---

"Sango? Sango are you okay?" Inuyasha waved a hand in front of the woman's face-- she laid out on the couch in the garage, dazed out, mouth slightly agape, sightlessly starring into empty space. Shit, why did she have to go and do this now? "Miroku! Will you get some water please, and maybe a bucket?" He called across the large, open room. "I think Sango took some shit. She's zoned out and not answering me."

The brunette looked over at his girlfriend, worried, but obeying his leader and fetching the things he'd asked for, bringing them over. "Will she be alright?"

"Well, she really needs to throw that shit up, but if she won't, then she needs to at least drink some water and get on her feet-- work it off, y'know? You might have to help me with that." The silver-haired hanyou was obviously not happy about their current situation, but he knew it would happen sooner or later. I thought she was over that shit, but I guess not.

Miroku exchanged knowing glances with his commander, helping his girlfriend sit up, holding the glass of water to her mouth, giving small bits to her, which she coughed up, but then began to drink, looking up at him, confused, though not objecting. "Come on, Sango. Drink it up, girl." He stroked her hair soothingly, hoping she'd ease up a bit. Once she finished half a glass the two men hoisted her up, each one supporting her weight carefully, getting her to sit upright in a chair towards the kitchen area. "Maybe I should take her to the house and let her rest," he suggested, looking to Inuyasha, trying to gauge his reaction to Sango's current condition. "She hasn't been like this since her father died," he mumbled, sounding empathetic. "It's sad to see her going to this… instead of coming to me… Why won't she?" Miroku whispered back to his friend, who gave him a look.

"Her damn pride. It's gonna be the death of her," commented Inuyasha, looking down at her, indifferent. He was a little mad, a little ashamed that this was someone in his gang. Was this all it took to bring her down? She was a strong person, but this made him doubt her a little bit. But either way, he still cared. This was still the same girl he went to school with, who he grew up with. She's always had my back, and as fucked up as this shit is… I gotta have hers.

During their school years, Sango had acted like an older sister to all of them-- willing to deal out a beating to anyone who gave her friend's trouble-- especially with Inuyasha, since kids made fun of his ears a lot. Even so, her and Inuyasha had butted heads a lot, both stubborn and full of too much pride, warring over the title as Alpha.

Chuckling lightly, remembering their middle school years-- the transition of childhood to teen years was not an easy one, especially for Inuyasha and Sango. They were like siblings, through and through, even though some of the time they could barely stand each other. "I think you probably should take her though. There's no reason to keep her here in this condition. Just get her something to eat and some rest, okay?"

Nodding, Miroku lifted her up out of the chair, carrying her out to his pick up truck, getting her set up in the passenger seat before going over to the driver's side, getting in, face emotionless and starting to drive off towards his house.

"… Hey, Monk?" A groggy, feminine voice called from the other side of the truck, drawing the driver's attention for just a moment, before his gaze returned to the road. "Am I sick?"

Pausing, he replied. "Yeah, a little. But we'll fix this, okay? We'll fix you up, and we'll find Kohaku. Just… give it time, okay? Relax. We're on this. Have I ever let you down before, Sango?" The raw, truthful tone in his voice was enough to break her heart.

She gave a curt nod, biting her lip lightly, "I trust you."}