InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Love's Smirking Revenge ❯ Welcome to the Gauntlet ( Chapter 20 )

He could count on one hand, minus his thumb, the number of times he'd ever felt well and truly helpless in his life and unfortunately, this was one of them. His feet moved automatically, his body ushered forward by the constant pressure of the gun between his shoulder blades. He was out of weapons and, for the moment, completely out of options. At present it was taking every ounce of willpower he possessed to maintain some semblance of calm.

 

He could see the mottled bruises on her cheeks and smell the rich tang of her blood as his feet drew closer to where she sat. Whatever abuse had been inflicted upon her, it'd been recent. His teeth were grinding to the point where his jaw ached; from anger, from frustration, from knowing that there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help her now.

 

To retain his sanity he kept his mind trained on one thing and one thing alone - finding the bastard who'd done that to her and making them unrecognizable. His fists were already clenched tight at his sides in anticipation, but the gun, that damn pressure in the middle of his back, left him at a severe disadvantage.

 

“Take a seat,” the voice behind him ordered suddenly.

 

He glanced dismissively at the folding chair in question and stood his ground. No sense making it easy for them. The pressure from the gun eased away and was followed by a sharp blow to his right kidney. He sank like a stone, collapsing onto all fours. He did his best to keep his dinner down while trying to catch his breath. Figures they'd go for the kidneys. Grimacing, he rose shakily to his feet and turned to face his attacker.

 

Admittedly he was surprised to see Naraku Takeda levelling a gun at his head. He'd expected a lackey but one look told him that wasn't the case. Everything about the man standing before him, from the expensive dress shirt on his back to his well manicured appearance, spoke loud and clear of his vanity, his wealth and his power. It left his mind momentarily reeling as he wondered why a man like Takeda would bother handling such a petty affair personally.

 

“So, Detective, we finally meet.”

 

There was a certain sense of refinement underlying his words, one that left Inuyasha wondering after his origins. Every cop in the city knew who Naraku Takeda was, or had at least heard of him, but very little was known about him. Had the circumstances been different, he would've entertained the notion of sitting him down and picking his brain for a while. His accent was Tokyo based, that was certain, but there was something off about it. He wondered if perhaps he'd spent an extended period of time outside the country.

 

“What took you so long? I've been waiting years for this,” Inuyasha shot back evenly.

 

“Years?” Takeda lifted an eyebrow as though surprised and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I had no idea your affection for me ran so deep.”

 

A taunting half smile curved the left side of his mouth upwards. Inuyasha wanted nothing more than to rid him of it with a solid fist to the teeth. Instead, he feigned a casual air and tilted his head in Kagome's direction.

 

“What about the girl?”

 

“What about her?”

 

“You've had your fun, so let her go. She doesn't need to be around to see this.”

 

“Let her go?” he sounded genuinely shocked by the suggestion. “Why would I go and do a stupid thing like that?”

 

“Why the hell not?”

 

“Patience isn't one of your strong suits, is it?” Takeda chided with a lift of his eyebrow.

 

Uttering a `tsk', he moved toward Kagome with slow methodical steps. Speaking quietly, almost to himself, he added with disappointment, “It seems you don't know me very well at all, Detective.”

 

His eyes narrowed at Kagome's still form and his mouth dropped into a sneer. The look of utter hatred he sent her way sent a shiver down Inuyasha's spine. He could practically feel the malice radiating off of him.

 

Takeda cocked the gun and aimed it at Kagome's right knee. Without bothering to look his way, he ordered Inuyasha to sit once more. The message was loud and clear and there wasn't any more hesitating on his part. Wearing a scowl, he slowly stepped back towards the chair and lowered himself into it.

 

“So, what now?” he asked, trying to sound collected despite the choking pressure of his heart in his throat.

 

Takeda cast a turbulent glance over his shoulder and lowered the gun to his side. “Now, we get better acquainted. Apparently we have a long and sordid history, you and I.”

 

Inuyasha glowered at him. “Look, you want me? You got me! You don't need the girl for collateral. I ain't goin' nowhere.” He sat back against the chair and buried his hands in his coat pocket. “Let the girl go so we can get on with business - consider it a last request.”

 

Takeda heaved a weary sigh and cast a disappointed look in Inuyasha's direction. “You think all of this,” he asked, gesturing with a sweep of his arm, “is about you? You stupid, sorry bastard.”

 

Inuyasha sat up a little straighter and his brow furrowed a little deeper. Barely containing his ire he bit out a response. “What the hell are you talkin' about? I got your letter. You wouldn't have sent it if you didn't want me to find you.”

 

Takeda nodded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “True enough, but did you ever once ask yourself why?”

 

“Didn't need to. It wouldn't have made a difference.”

 

Outwardly his words were calm, cool and borderline abrasive. Inside, his mind was running through theories and strategies at a mile a minute. What exactly was Takeda getting at? The lingering smirk on his lips said there was more to the story, much more, but his brain couldn't find the right piece to fit the puzzle. He kept scrounging and digging, only to come up empty handed. He was used to having the upper hand. He hated this cat and mouse bullshit. It wasn't his style, never had been and never would be.

 

“Enlighten me, Detective.” Takeda's voice cut into his thoughts once more. “You thought I kidnapped your little girlfriend and lured you out here to the docks for what?”

 

“Only your twisted mind knows the answer to that,” he replied evenly.

 

“Humour me.”

 

Inuyasha glanced between the barrel of Takeda's gun and Kagome. “For revenge? To make a statement? How the hell am I supposed to know. You killed Kikyou to get at me. Why should this time be any different?”

 

“Well for starters,” he offered with a slight shrug, “this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with her.” He motioned to Kagome with the gun and Inuyasha nearly swallowed his tongue.

 

“What about Kikyou? How does she fit?” he asked in a quiet voice.

 

“Kikyou?”

 

Takeda casually crossed his arms in front of his chest and tapped the barrel of his gun against his bicep. His brow furrowed, as though he was trying to remember a face to place to that name. Inuyasha wanted to wrap his hands around his throat and choke him until the life drained from his eyes. How dare he forget her? How dare he treat her death like it some something so inconsequential he could barely be bothered to remember it. He glared at the bastard in front of him as a white hot rage spread through his veins.

 

Eventually Takeda nodded, smiling a little as he spoke. “Hmmm, yes. I'd almost forgotten about her. It was a pity, really… having to destroy such a stunning creature. You know, she was so sure you'd save her? Kept insisting on it, right up until the very end...”

 

Inuyasha winced. It felt like a dull blade had been inserted into his chest and was slowly carving away at his insides. She'd died waiting for him. He thought he'd had it bad before, but this was so much worse than anything he'd ever felt. He gripped the edges of the chair until the metal creaked.

 

“I believe I owe you an apology.”

 

Takeda's words caught him by surprise, so much so that he couldn't keep it from registering on his face.

 

“What?”

 

“Five years ago, I killed the wrong girl.”

 

It took a moment before Inuyasha could swallow, much less convince his mouth to form syllables into words. “So let me get this straight... You're tellin' me Kikyou's death was… a mistake?”

 

Takeda nodded slowly and offered a small, patronizing bow of condolence. “A case of mistaken identity, actually. You have my apologies, Detective.”

 

Inuyasha could taste the coffee he'd had earlier that night in his throat and swallowed it back down.

 

Kikyou…

 

His mind was reeling at a sickening pace, hardly able to keep up. All this time he'd assumed Kikyou had been killed because of her father, or at the very least, because the yakuza wanted to make their presence known to him, but never once had it occurred to him that she'd died from a case of mistaken identity. He'd spent five years searching for the truth and now that he'd found it he wished he hadn't. The last five years of his life amounted to nothing more than a dizzying blur of dead ends and empty leads. He'd wasted so much time barking up every tree but the right one!

 

The man he'd been searching for, the man he'd sworn to avenge her life against, was standing right in front of him. He was being offered a second chance, a chance to make it right, but he was paralyzed. The final piece had fallen into place, leaving his mind stuck in a feedback loop as it stumbled over it again and again. Five years ago, it was Kagome who should have died.

 

He watched through wide, haunted eyes as Takeda grabbed a fist full of Kagome's hair and jerked her head upright.

 

From the very beginning it was Kagome who was the target.

 

The hollow sound of the slaps Takeda placed against her cheek to rouse her echoed across the room and brought some part of him back from the brink.

 

Five years ago, Kikyou died in Kagome's place.

 

He blinked slowly, stirred and then blinked again.

 

The question now was why? Why Kagome? What connection could they possibly have?

 

Sitting up straighter, Inuyasha made a move to stand.

 

“Don't you fucking touch her!” he shouted, his voice echoing back to him off the rafters.

 

Heaving an indignant sigh, Takeda shot a scornful look over his shoulder. “Or what? You'll make me wish I hadn't?”

 

Inuyasha ground his teeth and renewed his grip on the chair. Barely keeping himself contained, he glared daggers as Takeda jerked the gag out of Kagome's mouth and let it hang loose around her neck. A groan slipped out with it, but whether it was from pain or from being so rudely torn from blissful unconsciousness, he couldn't be certain. She lifted her head and groggily opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

 

“Inu…yasha?”

 

It was the first word from her lips and it was just about the only thing keeping him grounded as he surveyed the damage. Scent told him it was her, but without it he might never have recognized the woman staring back at him. Her face looked like a painter's pallet - blues and purples intermingled with greens, yellows and hints of red. He noted the dried blood that'd accumulated around what appeared to be a split bottom lip and the finger-sized impressions along her jaw. His eyes travelled from feature to feature, internalizing whatever he saw. Each new bruise and cut only served to increase the rage broiling inside of him until it burned away, leaving only a calm, detached sense of purpose in its place.

 

“Did you do that to her?” he asked quietly, not really caring if Takeda answered or not. The bastard had the audacity to smile.

 

“Do you like my handiwork Detective? I think it's a remarkable improvement.”

 

Inuyasha spat the foul taste those words left in his mouth to the side and leaned forward. “I'm gonna make you regret that,” he promised.

 

Takeda flinched, if only briefly, before composing himself. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Detective. Besides, we've just arrived at our feature event of the night - Show and Tell!”

 

A quiet sob escaped Kagome's throat to fill the silence that fell between them. “I'm so sorry. Inuyasha… For dragging you into this-I.”

 

“You never know when you shut up do ya?”

 

He heard her gasp but ignored it. With a muffled `keh' he crossed his arms and collapsed back against his chair. “You didn't drag me into anythin'. Whatever's goin' on here ain't your fault so you can stop with the Kagome pity party. Once I kill this bastard I'm takin' you home - end of story!”

 

Kagome wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. True, he had his faults, but in that moment she was just relieved that he was there at all. That was what made his words so hard to stomach. If he knew the truth would he still say such things? Would he be so determined to save her if he realized what she'd done? What she was?

 

He was never supposed to know. It'd been her burden to carry and she'd carried it all this time without complaint. Tonight though, the precariously happy existence she'd spent years constructing was about come crashing down around her like a house of cards.

 

From the dark, mirthless chuckles echoing in her ear she knew Naraku had planned this from the start. He would expose her for what she truly was and after that, whatever she and Inuyasha had once shared would be permanently broken. He'd never be able to look at her the same way, not after that. She was terrified to her bones imaging what it would be like to see nothing but loathing reflected back at her in his amber eyes. Once he knew she'd become either the killer or the victim and neither title was one she particularly wanted to wear.

 

Taking a deep breath, she stared at him from behind her swollen eyelids and took in every last vestige of warmth and comfort she could from his presence. After tonight she'd have to learn to live without it. That was, of course, if she made it out alive at all.

 

“I wouldn't be so sure about that,” crooned Naraku's oil-slick voice from behind her in response to Inuyasha's determine declaration. His taunting barb sent panic, swelling like the tide, through her chest. She feebly tried to shake her head `No', but the fistful of hair he had in his grip held her fast.

 

“Bear with me, just a few moments longer, while I tell you a story.” He paused for dramatic effect and clamped his hand down on her injured shoulder, squeezing the bruised flesh as he lowered his mouth to her ear.

 

“Change of plans,” he announced. “I think someone else should tell this story, someone who was there, someone who lived it in the flesh.” She could hear the smile in his voice and knew it was one full of mockery and taunt. He wouldn't stop until he'd destroyed her completely, in every way possible.

 

“Go on, Kagome,” he said quietly, “Tell him what you did.”

 

A meek “No” was mumbled from behind her swollen lips as she shook her head. Fresh tears made their way down her cheeks and dribbled into her mouth. The salt water stung the open cut on her lip but she barely noticed. Her mind was too preoccupied, filled with panic and fear.

 

“This is no time to get shy, Kagome! Why don't you share your dirty secret with us?”

 

Her body was shaking and her head was pounding with all the mercy of a jackhammer drilling into concrete.

 

“I'll never-,” she began to protest, but he didn't give her the chance. The back of his hand found her cheek and her head whipped to the side from the force of the blow. His fingers were in her hair again, twisting, pulling, causing more pain. She could feel his mouth next to her cheek, feel the dampness of his lips against her skin as he spoke.

 

“You're going to tell him about that night and don't you dare leave out a single detail. I want our dear friend the Detective to know exactly what kind of traitorous bitch he's been fucking!”

 

Even with her eyes closed she could feel him turn his attention to Inuyasha. It didn't matter what she said now. He had every intention of destroying her before she even got the first word out. Opening her eyes slowly, she could do nothing but helplessly watch Inuyasha's expression as the truth she'd hoped to keep buried forever spilled from Naraku's lips.

 

“Judging by that look on your face I'll wager she hasn't told you a thing. Not surprising really given her nature. Women are such worthless, untrustworthy creatures. You'll be better off the sooner you figure that out.”

 

Naraku nodded his head in Inuyasha's direction with a sense of camaraderie, as though he was doling out advice to an acquaintance instead of a captive. After a moment of reflective silence, he jerked the hand that was still buried in her hair hard enough to make her gasp in pain. Holding her prisoner, he glared down at her as he spoke, his eyes tempered by a cool hatred. Even his voice was deadly calm, calmer than the sea after a tempest.

 

“She used a butcher knife. Gutted him like a fucking fish. She was gracious enough to let him bleed out all over her kitchen floor. My brother gave her everything and that was how she repaid him!”

 

The silence hanging between the three of them was deafening. Kagome stared at Inuyasha. Naraku stared at Inuyasha. Inuyasha stared at Kagome. His was the only expression that remained unreadable.

 

“Do you want to know the best part, Detective?”

 

Naraku's voice lowered to a whole new level of dark and menacing. The sound of it scraped against the back of her mind and sent shivers down her spine. If she had to give revenge a voice… Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the cool touch of a gun's metal barrel graze the skin of her cheek.

 

“She thought she got away with it.”

 

 

-----

 

 

September 24, 2002

 

The apartment was quiet but for the rhythmic movements of her kitchen knife against the wooden cutting board.

 

Chop. Chop. Chop.

 

With a sweep of her hand a pile of diced scallions was tossed into the pot bubbling to life on the stove. While she reached for a stalk of fresh leeks her eyes caught sight of the rivulets of rain water making their way down the kitchen window. It'd been raining for days without stopping. The drum of it on the pavement outside had become such a constant presence that she hardly noticed it anymore. The city was sopping wet to the core: muggy, waterlogged and sticky, leaving tempers short all around.

 

Oniguomo was no exception.

 

Tearing her gaze from the window, Kagome pursed her lips and diced the leeks a bit quicker than she had the scallions. She was making leek and potato soup from one of her Mom's old recipe books. It was comfort food, warm and homey. Right now, she needed all the comfort she could get. The faint, tangy smell of the scallions wafted up to greet her from the pot and she eagerly breathed them in. Something about the aroma they gave off as they cooked left her throat tingling in a way that felt warm and familiar.

 

With a swish of the knife across the cutting board, she deposited the leeks into the pot as well. She watched them bob about like ocean booie's on the water's surface before they were pulled under. They only needed a few more minutes, just enough to soften up. After setting the timer on the stove she set to work peeling the pile of potatoes strewn about the counter in front of her.

 

She'd just sliced into the first one of the bunch when a tingle of awareness crept up her spine. The knife paused and she lifted her eyes to the rain beaten window. All the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. She knew what it meant, the ominous presence that'd suddenly filled the room gave it away, but for a brief moment she tried to brush the feeling off as nothing more than paranoia. It didn't matter though, because she knew better. She'd learned to recognize the signs long ago.

 

The clock hanging over the doorway ticked loudly, announcing each second as it passed. He waited five infinitely long ticks before speaking.

 

“I've missed you, Kagome.”

 

She pulled in a deep breath and resisted the urge to shudder as the sound of his languid drawl washed over her. Dealing with him was never easy, especially now that she knew what he was capable of. After taking a moment to gather her resolve, she turned and fixed him with a hard glare.

 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, impressed by the strength of her own voice.

 

He gazed at her from the doorway where he'd propped himself against the frame with one arm. His other hand was buried somewhere deep in his pocket, most likely playing with the silver zippo that tended to linger there. He was wearing his usual attire - dress slacks and a designer shirt. Tonight's pick was black with a mauve coloured silk tie. He was scum but even she couldn't deny that the man knew how to dress.

 

Seemingly un-phased by her abrupt greeting, he loosened his tie slowly and invited himself in. “Come now Kagome, don't be like that. I know you've missed me too.”

 

Making a sound of disgust in the back of her throat, she turned her back to him and resumed noisily chopping the potato into cubes.

 

“I want you to leave.”

 

He ignored her acidic remark and sidled up behind her. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he used the other to move the hair hanging down across her back to the side. His lips felt scorching hot against the skin of her neck and she heard him chuckle quietly at the way her motions with the knife faltered.

 

She was slowly coming to the realization that no matter what she did she would never be free from him. He controlled everyone who worked for him, every detail of their lives, and now he controlled her too. She hated him for it and herself for letting it happen. Every part of her was sickened by the thought of him touching her and yet she couldn't find the strength to move away.

 

He was most dangerous when he was like this - feigning calm indifference. It was times like this, when he used that sweet, placating tone of voice, that she walked away with the deepest bruises. She swallowed thickly and her body stiffened in his embrace. She had to tread carefully or risk unleashing the monster inside of him.

 

“Please go. I don't want you here.”

 

He let out a quiet chuckle and slid his hands from her waist. She was naïve enough to breathe a sigh of relief. After all that time, she really should have known better. He spun her around so fast the knife and cutting board went clattering to the floor. He had her back pressed against the counter top, the edge of it digging into her spine as his fingers dug into her arms.

 

“You haven't been returning my calls. Did you think you could just walk away from me?” he demanded, his expression as vicious as his tone.

 

She'd known this day would come eventually but that didn't mean she was ready for it. She was left questioning why she'd ever listened to the wisdom of her friends, the ones who convinced her to leave him after seeing one too many bruises and hearing one too many lame excuses. They didn't know him like she did. They didn't know what he was capable of. These past few weeks she'd been operating on borrowed time.

 

The confident assurances of her friends that he would `never hurt her again' taunted her as his fingers dug deeper into her flesh. Her hands clasped round his wrists in a vain attempt to pry loose his hold but it was of little help. Overpowering her easily, he sneered as he pulled her close until their faces were nearly touching. He took his time breathing her in, ghosting the tip of his nose across her cheek when she turned her face away.

 

“Did you actually think someone else would want you? Did you think that you'd be better off without me, Kagome?”

 

His lips caressed the shell of her ear just before her elbow met the unforgiving linoleum of the kitchen floor. Pain ricocheted up her arm as she clutched it to her chest with a whimper. He stood over her, hands on his hips, while he gloated. He loved to watch her writhe and grimace, anything that spoke to him of the pain he'd successfully inflicted upon her.

 

“You are nothing without me,” he reminded her as he so often did. It was his favourite line these days. “You're so pathetic it makes me sick just to look at you.”

 

The tears were already welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision. One slipped out and dripped onto her hand. Everything he said was right. She was pathetic. She was weak and useless. Even in a situation like this, knowing that he would probably kill her, she couldn't lift a finger to defend herself. The only thing worse than hearing him say she was nothing was hearing the voice inside her head whisper in agreement that he was right.

 

She barely had a chance to catch her breath before he was on top of her, pinning her to the floor as he straddled her hips. She managed a screamed, bucked against him, struck out at him with her fists only to meet empty air. As easily as if he were containing the tantrum of a toddler, he imprisoned her wrists and tucked her hands between his knees and the floor. As she struggled to free herself she noticed that somewhere in between he'd tossed his tie to the side, unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. He was in it for the long haul it seemed.

 

Her head reeled as the first blow slammed it into the floor. Fists were still his favourite weapon of choice.

 

“No one walks away from me Kagome,” he levelled, catching her chin between his fingers so she was forced to meet his gaze. “Not you, not anyone. You don't leave until I decide I'm done with you.”

 

“Stop this,” she pleaded while still trying to manoeuvre out from under him.

 

He studied her a moment and then laughed. It was then that she understood his reason for coming. He'd come to kill her. It didn't matter what she said or did now, his mind was made up from the moment he walked through her door. She could see the truth in the cold glint of his dark eyes - he wasn't going to leave without making sure she was dead.

 

“Do you know what happens to disobedient pets Kagome?”

 

She struggled against him with increased fervour and screamed in between sobs, hoping to God that one of her nosey neighbours would hear and call the Police. He seemed to enjoy the display, even chuckled a little as he sat back to watch her meagre attempts to fight him off.

 

“Oh? So you do know. That's good - saves me the trouble of explaining it.”

 

The next strike was a sharp blow from the back of his hand across her cheek. It stunned her just long enough for him to wrap his hands around her throat. Her eyes widened at the pressure and she could feel her face getting hot. He was serious this time. The determined look in his eyes was terrifying. There was no sympathy there, no mercy or love. He was nothing more than a monster - a heartless, dark-eyed monster wearing the face of the man she'd once loved.

 

Her back arched and her heels dug into the floor as her body struggled to pull in oxygen. She clawed at his wrists, gouging his skin until she could feel the stickiness of his blood beneath her fingernails, but he didn't even flinch. He felt no pain. He felt no fear. It seemed like nothing on earth would dissuade him from his goal.

 

It didn't take long for her flailing body to weaken. Her hands fell limp at her sides as her eyelids drooped. Even her lips continued to move, opening and closing like a fish's as though through will alone she could suddenly breathe once more. It was strange how in a moment like that, with violence all around her, all she felt was calm. A sense of acceptance washed over her as she thought to herself that death didn't seem so bad. Her world had grown quiet. In that space, whatever it was, there was just her. She seriously considered staying, embraced by the comforting darkness of the void where she was safe from harm and free of pain, but then something happened.

 

It was in that very same moment, when she was considering giving in, that her hand found the handle of the knife. She'd forgotten it was there completely, but as her fingers slowly wrapped around the cool hard plastic of the handle it became her new source of hope. It gave her the strength to admit that she wasn't ready to die yet. There were so many things she still had left to accomplish. There were too many dreams she still had to live out. Who was he to determine when it was her time to go?

 

She felt anger like she'd never felt in her life rise up through her. Her eyes narrowed and she fixed him with a dark look that could've rivalled his. He lifted an eyebrow at her sudden defiance. He seemed impressed, if not a little bit amused. Amusement melted into shock once his gaze fell to the knife embedded six inches into his side. His hands fell away from her neck to hover around the knife handle while his eyes stared down at it in disbelief.

 

As the shock wore away his balance faltered, sending him crashing clumsily into the table. She weakly turned her head to watch him while her body sucked in greedy gasps of air. He was staring at her, his expression a mixture of shock, disbelief and anger. A part of her was relieved to see that there was fear in his eyes. He was scared to die. Well, at least they were finally on the same page about something.

 

Ever so slowly, she pushed her body upright and used the counter to pull herself to her feet. Her head was swimming but she moved with purpose to the stove and turned the element off. The water had long since evaporated from the pot and the vegetables were a mushy mess at the bottom.

 

So much for Mom's homemade leek and potato soup.

 

It was a long time before she had the courage to turn around and look at what she'd done. Her body slowly lowered itself to the floor and she sat with the cupboards at her back and her knees hugged into her chest. Enrapt, she watched as the glistening pool of crimson slowly crept across her kitchen floor to devour it whole.

 

With her head resting against the cupboard door, she massaged the finger shaped bruises forming on her neck. Her throat hurt too much to cry so she watched him in silence instead. Visions of old horror films where the villain suddenly revives themselves to kill again flashed through her mind. She stared long and hard at his dead eyes. They stared unblinking at the floor, fixed and dilated.

 

There was something she was supposed to do. She glanced up at the portable phone hanging off the edge of the kitchen table, but couldn't convince her body to move. Her eyes fell to his body once more and her ears rang with the silence that weighed down the room. She hugged her knees in tight to her chest and curled her toes to keep the blood from reaching the tips of her white socks.

 

As she stared at him in the hours that followed, she realized there wasn't a single part of her that regretted what she'd done.

 

Not one.

 

 

------------------

 

Author's Note: Wow, talk about a long break! Sorry guys! What a ridiculous amount of time to wait for a new chapter. I really do apologize. Thank you to all of you who have kept tabs on LSR during the long waits. And much thanks to those loyal readers who've been voting for LSR in the IYFG and FA Awards! Your support means so much to me :) Because of that, this chapter is dedicated to you.

 

Next chapter will be out soon. It's almost done, just a little bit left to write. Please feel free to leave a review on your way out!

 

Much love,

 

Langus