InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Unacceptable ❯ Haunting ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha. That privilege belongs to Rumiko Takahashi and various holding companies.

Author's note: This was my submission to Forthrightly's Second Annual Halloween Drabble Challenge

 

He remembers the day he took her as his own. The slight resistance of the flesh in her neck before it gave. The metallic taste of her blood. The single happiest moment of his life. He could feel her nervousness and excitement match his own as they joined. Even now, he can picture her as if she was there in front of him.

Because she's always there.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but she's present in his mind. He looks elsewhere and she's still there, burned into his retinas as if he glanced directly at the sun.  She's always there, and he always remembers that moment together.

He remembers how she didn't stop bleeding, no matter how furiously or desperately he lapped at the wound. He remembers how she cried out his name in pain and confusion until she grew cold and pale, then finally still. Worst of all, he remembers that final look of accusation before she slipped into never-ending sleep.  She didn't understand. Neither did he. The bite was instinctive. He was compelled to do it, but something had gone terribly wrong. There was something he didn't do, couldn't do.

Her body is long gone but he still sees her exactly how she always used to be, except instead of love she stares at him mournfully, the image of her uniform marred with an enormous crimson stain. She was his companion and his love, and even now her presence prevents him from turning his claws on himself. She'll never leave him alone, but she will always make sure he is lonely.

He could never tell her family. The well was sealed.

He did tell his friends, but they didn't really listen. They couldn't see her as he could. They told him she was gone, and that he was hallucinating in his grief, and tormenting himself with his guilt. He refused their comfort, and their patience quickly ran out. Their affection had been burned away by the accident, and they quietly drifted out of his life, leaving him alone once again.

Yet never alone.

He sighs his millionth sigh, and looks straight at her. The accusation is still there. She stares back sadly, and mouths the words.

“I loved you.”

Past tense.  How many times can a man make a woman die hating him?

It was his curse as a hanyou. He had the instinct to bite, but not the power to see it through.

It would haunt him always.