Misfortune Followed Us Home

Misfortune Followed Us Home ch.27

                                                     

Kagome paced up and down the length of her room, her unbound hair whipping at her calves as she strode angrily from left to right.  These past few days had been hell, just hell.  “That bastard, I’ll kill em’, it’s his fault, this is all his fault,” she mumbled under her breath.  She stopped suddenly as the door opened.  She let out a gasp and dashed forward, locking her arms around her visitor as they tumbled to the ground.  “Sango-chan,” she cried out as she squeezed the older girl in a bone crushing hug.  She sat up, just holding the older woman for a while before releasing her and beginning to cry.  It was as if a huge weight had fallen off her shoulders and with every tear the burden lessened until she was taking gasping breaths trying to calm down.  Eventually she stopped crying and stood up, wiping her face with her sleeve and heaving a sigh of relief.  She looked down to see Sango still sprawled on the floor, her face a mixture of awe and confusion, her mouth hanging half open.  “Sango?”

                                                       

Sango stared off down the hall after Sesshoumaru, he never looked back as he exited the entrance to the wing. After he left, she turned to look at the door in front of her.  Kagome was in there, it had only been a few days, but she was supposed to have changed so much.  Mustering her courage she grasped the handle and opened the door. Everything happened in a blur.  One moment she was opening the door, the next moment she was on the ground, then she couldn’t breathe, all the air being forced from her lungs.  The next moment she was coughing and sputtering as her lungs tried reclaim the precious oxygen it had lost, she took huge gasping breaths until finally her heart decided to stop trying to exit her chest.  She looked up to see a mass of black hair on a sobbing figure.  She looked past her trying to discern exactly what was going on.  Her mouth dropped as she looked around.

The room was a mess.  What had once been a lovely four poster bed was shambles.  All the silk sheets had been damaged, clawed.  Strips of fabric littered the floor around and on the bed.  The bed curtains hung raggedly from their posts and the mattress and pillows had been torn apart.  Hay, cotton, and feathers lay in a tangled gruesome mix along with the scraps of sheets.  The furniture fared no better.  Everything had several deep gouges mixed with lighter scratches.  Wood shavings littered the floor.  In the middle of all this was the black haired onna.  Her hair hung in stringy clumps, obscuring her face.  Her kimono hung off her limply, like she had simply given up trying to wear the fabric and had draped it about her shoulders.  Further inspection of the room revealed the remains of several kimono among the fabric scraps.  “Sango?”  She looked up at the girl again, “It couldn’t be,” she thought.  Her mouth closed with a snap as she rose to her feet.  She rose a trembling hand to the girl’s face and pulled back the curtain of hair from her face.  She gasped audibly as her grip slackened and her hand dropped swinging by her waist.

“Kagome?”