Thoughts? Opinions? Just don’t throw tomatoes at me over Blind Love. It's sitting in my files collecting dust and making me hate writing at the moment.
The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. With each tick, time slipped through her fingers. The whisper of the wind, caused the thin female to shiver. How long had she been here? The darkness numbed her to the passing of time, the only thing that told her that time had no in fact stopped, was that damn clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. All day and all night.
“Little Kagome, are you cold?” a male voice taunted her. The female Kagome glared at the sky, knowing for well the owner of the voice was watching her.
“Fuck off,” the female named Kagome muttered. How long had she been in this cold and damp room? She was forced in here at the end of the summer. If she had to guess she had been in the dark for around five months. The air, pumped from the outside, was starting to become harder to breathe. She used to love the cool air, now she cursed who ever thought to create it.
“Itty bitty Kagome,” the male voice taunted again.
Kagome clamped her grime covered hands over her ears. Squishing her eyes shut, she began to talk to herself. This was their little game, he would taunt her about food, a nice warm room, and a shower. She would talk to herself, most times reciting stories from her childhood, just to drown out his voice. Today’s story of choice was that famed tragic love tale of Inuyasha and Priestess Kikyo.
The story of the half yōkai and the guardian of the Shikon No Tama, had been one of her favorites as a child. She had recited it so much, she had started to create new adventures they had gone on. Today’s episode included the nameless male voice and Inuyasha slicing his throat. Kagome imagined the male voice’s blood spewing from his neck, the thought caused her to grin and stopped the talking.
The voice never liked her stories, even though she thought they were good. Lowering her hands, Kagome leaned her head back on the cool wall. She involuntarily shivered once more. How much longer would she last in here? Yesterday he kept food from her. Today she got soup if one could call it that. It was cold and Kagome was sure it was dirty dish water. But she drank it anyway. Kagome’s left hand ran along her torso, counting the ribs that poked out, and hissing when she got to the last three. They were broken, thanks to the voice’s foot. He had been angry that day, she remembered hearing shouting. Then the door to her room unlocked and he had entered. She fought him as he tried to rape her again, she had kicked him in the genitals. That was the wrong move, his temper flared and his foot made contact with her ribs, shoulders, and head.
Kagome tried to run her fingers through her hair, her thin numb fingers catching on tangles and dirt. She had heard from somewhere that prisoners of war were taught to groom themselves while in prison. It was to keep their humanity, or was it their sanity? Either way, it had helped a little bit, but nothing would help as much as a hot bath. If Kagome ever got the chance to take a bath in a hot spring ever again, she would happily slip into the water and n ever come up for air.
Another shiver raked over her skin, causing goosebumps to appear. Kagome’s eyes glanced down to where she knew her arm was located, she was unsure what it looked like. She imagined a grotesque scar where the voice had snapped her arm in two. She had felt the bone rip through the skin, she even heard the bone snap. That was a sound she would carry with her forever, that, and the sound of the voice locking the door behind him. The door slamming shut and the lock clicking echoed off the walls, it killed a little piece of her every time she heard it.
“Kagooome,” the voice said once more.
Kagome clamped her hands over her ears and began to mutter about Inuyasha and Kikyo again.