The Affair

A/N: By the way, in case any of you are wondering, that’s what really happened. And I got so pissed off that that girl had followed me practically to my house that I sent his wife an angry email saying how big a coward she was, and I sent one to her sister that said exactly: “If you ever follow me anywhere again, I will pull over to the side of the road, drag you by your hair out of your car, and pummel you into the asphalt. Have a nice day.”



Also, I didn't leave a teaser at the end of the last one with the title for this next chapter because I couldn't come up with a title. Nothing fits; I mean, what do you call this, what I am about to relate to you? It's something; I'm just not sure what.



*WARNING* This chapter contains rape, mention of suicide, and mention of drug and alcohol abuse. If you feel uncomfortable with these subjects, DO NOT CONTINUE. Go back to the home screen and wait for the next chapter. The story recounted in this chapter really happened, and this is one of the only times I hope to ever tell it in my entire life. It will be only my second time retelling it, and I am only saying pretty much what I said the night I recounted it to “Inuyasha.”



These are not things that I am proud of, and I feel a lot better talking about it now than I did a few years ago, right after it happened. Five years later, and I am now just about fully recovered. *Sigh* Well, let’s get this over with.

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My hopes are so high

That your kiss might kill me.

So won’t you kill me?

So I die happy?

My heart is yours, to fill or burst,

To break or bury.



- Dashboard Confessional, “Hands Down.”

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Chapter Six: The Something.



Kagome slapped Inuyasha’s shoulder, hollering between giggles, “Stop! Inuyasha! Stop that!” She broke off into a fit of laughter as he tickled her torturously, kissing her neck vigorously.



The pair led a very comfortable and passionate life now; Kikyo had moved in with her mother and barely ever spoke to Inuyasha anymore. She’d been out of his life for over a month now, and things had definitely brightened up.



There had been some gloom, of course. One night about two weeks after he had kicked Kikyo out, Inuyasha had invited Kagome to stay the night with him. Things went well through the early evening, and when the night came, they retired to the bedroom. He wasn’t sure anymore who initiated their passionate encounters; they all just seemed to be mutual. But… this time, about halfway through, Kagome broke down and started crying. Inuyasha, never really being that good at comforting, just held her, asking what was wrong.



Finally, after she had cried herself dry for the night, she sat up and related the tale to Inuyasha:

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I didn’t even know why I went to that party. It was at a friend of a friend’s place, and the friend that brought me with her wasn’t even that great a friend. Those were my days of sneaking off school campus to smoke a joint, or going off to midnight parties in dank, dark basements to get high or drink myself silly. Being a good deal Irish, I was born with an unnaturally high tolerance for alcohol, so it took quite a bit to get me tipsy.



At this party, I’d only had two drinks by one in the morning, which was pretty good for me. And they were little stuff, Smirnoff. I was fully aware; 90% of the people there weren’t anymore, they were all so high or wasted.



My friend… for this, we’ll call him “Kenji.” As recovered as I am, I still don’t like to say his name, which tends to be very difficult nowadays, cause I have a boss with the same name. So, my friend Kenji is the one who invited me, and he seems to be a little tipsy, but not very bad off. He swayed a little on his feet as he motioned for me to follow him through the house, and I figured he wanted to drive me home. I went after him to try and grab his keys; I’ve always been very against drunk driving. Anyway, Kenji was leading me through the house, but instead of coming through the front door, I found myself in one of the bedrooms with him.



I looked at him, puzzled. It only took me a second to understand; I was, at the time, fairly attractive. I was on the dance team at the high school, and I was small and thin and had a pretty cute figure. Not really that cute anymore, but that’s not the point. Point is, I know what drunken teenage boys are after. I’m not stupid. Of course, I also wasn’t a virgin, but I had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who knew nothing about my secret party and substance abuse life, but a boyfriend nonetheless. I liked him, and he cared about me, so I would not be unfaithful to him.



I actually smiled at Kenji and told him that this wasn’t a very good idea. He just grinned at me back and stepped forward. I stepped back, and he stepped forward again. Once again, I stepped back. Something clicked in the back of my head, and I just suddenly KNEW that it had been very stupid of me to come here.



I don’t even really recall everything that happened next. I remember he pushed me, and I fell backward, not on the bed, but against it. It left a bruise on my back, I hit it at such an angle and with such force. He left scratches on my thighs from where he ripped my jeans and underwear off. I fought against him so hard that he finally grabbed my wrists and bound me to the headboard of the bed with… god, I don’t even know what with. I remember feeling disgusting, feeling disgusted, and I felt… helpless. I put myself in such a horrible situation, and I couldn’t defend myself.



I spent the next four years going back and forth over whether or not it was my own fault. I mean, I was the one who went to the stupid party, who had actually been dumb enough to go with him into the room alone. But… he made that choice. It wasn’t like it was a life or death situation, where it was “Attack Kagome or die!” I mean, that bastard… he knew what he was doing. I doubt he regretted it. The first couple years were the absolute hardest. I was scared to be touched for a long time after that. I even contemplated suicide for a very long time, twice almost coming to attempt it.



It didn’t even really help to know that he died two years ago from an overdose. It still doesn’t help. It will never help.



That’s why I always carry a small pocket knife in my pocket with me. If I’m at work, it’ll be in my lab coat pocket. My dad gave it to me two years too late [my parents have no idea, but my dad thought he was jumping the gun a little giving it to me when he did], and he told me, “This is what you do if you’re ever attacked. You whip this sucker out, stab him in the leg, twist it, and run, screaming ‘Fire!’”



Apparently no one ever responds to “Rape!” They’re more likely to some help you if you scream “Fire!”



Funny. It’s such a funny word. It’s nice not having any difficulty in saying/typing it these days.

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Inuyasha laid there, holding Kagome for quite some time after she finished retelling her gruesome story. He had no idea that anyone could be that sadistic or the hurtful. When he looked down at her, she was asleep, her breathing a soft, shallow whisper. He pressed his cheek into her hair, kissing her temple lovingly. She was so small; it was easy to see how she could be overpowered.



He made it up in his mind that he would be more cautious in the future so he would not cause her to ever remember what had happened again.

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A/N: Well, technically, he is causing me to remember it. I probably could’ve left this chapter out of the story and just ignored what happened, but I honestly hold the belief that that would be a very unhealthy thing for me to do. It was a kind of therapy writing it down. Just, please, no sympathy reviews. I hate sympathy, and, in these cases, I feel like sympathy just makes things worse.



By the way, the anniversary will be a week from today. The five-year anniversary. Whoop. I should go buy a cake. Then burn it.



Next chapter, where things will return to normal:



Chapter Seven: The Break-Up.