Red

Red Flight

Miroku is awake; the others sleep. I'm grateful for both. The monk rises, eyes dark, and takes her unconscious form from my arms. He smells of surprise, but mostly concern. I must look as wrecked as I feel, for all he says is "She'll forgive you." What makes him so sure, I wonder. I doubt I'll forgive myself.

There's little time for self-pity, even if I had the inclination, because the red presses and pools behind my eyes, and if I'm going to lose control again, I need it to be far, far away from Kagome, from all of them. Miroku will protect them from me, if necessary, but it's only Kagome who is truly in danger…who is truly mine.

I run, putting as much distance between us as possible, and the faster and farther I go, the stronger I feel. I'm no fool: I know I'm running from myself. I know I'm running from having hurt her more than I thought possible, more than anyone else probably ever could. And I'm running from the possibility, most frightening of all, that she belongs to the red beast and not to me.

They'll hold her, cleanse her, heal her. I have to believe that, and that she is still herself inside, still whole. No part of me could do what they can for her, not now that I've broken that precious, slender thread of trust between us, that lie that said I would never hurt her. It's unreasonable to want to say it wasn't me. Ridiculous to say I didn't mean to. Terrifying to say my heart races, even now, as I remember how good it felt to claim her.

I run, wind in my hair, pulse pounding in my ears, vision blurring not with tears but with blood. There is nowhere I can go that will free me from who I am and from what we—my Kagome and the demon inside me—are, together.