InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Poltergeist ❯ Poltergeist ( One-Shot )

Poltergeist

 

By SaiyanBlack

 

 

It started when they moved into the house when she was 10. Something was in the house, despite its very common and unassuming appearance. No one else felt it, only she did. It followed her around from room to room, but when she left, the presence dissipated. She came to dread going home.

 

He was there.

 

Always watching. Always listening.

 

It was only when he did something that others began to believe her. Her brother had hit her with one of his toys when she was eleven. He was only six, he hadn't meant any harm, but he didn't see it that way. The next morning had found her little brother screaming from within his bedroom closet - locked inside by his desk chair under the doorknob.

 

Her brother never touched her again.

 

Not even to hug her.

 

She grew and at twelve, her father died - killed during an accident at the factory where he worked. Stabbed clean through by a bar of steel that fell spontaneously from the ceiling. Souta blamed her. Her mother wouldn't look at her. The people of the town stared at her. She blamed him.

 

She began to feel him with her at all times. Where before his presence left when she left the house, now he came with her. He became a thought in the back of her mind, a cold breeze down her spine, a voice that whispered into her ear. He was her only companion.

 

She hated him.

 

But he was her only friend.

 

When she cried, she could feel his comfort like arms embracing her. When she hurt, he made the pain go away. But those that made her cry found themselves in strange circumstances: hung by the pants from the top of the flagpole outside of school or trapped within their own locker.

 

Once, her mother had told her to stop hurting other people, to stop whatever it was that she was doing. She tried to explain - it wasn't her, it was him! - but her mother wouldn't believe her. No matter how much she screamed and cried there was no convincing her. Her mother sent her to her room.

 

She hadn't even reached the top of the stairs when she heard her mother scream. She had rushed down to the kitchen and found her mother pinned to the wall - every sharp knife stuck into the wall around her, shaking as if someone had thrown them.

 

Her mother never spoke to her after that. Not unless she had to.

 

And still she grew.

 

He changed as she did. She felt him more strongly, could almost swear that she was actually being touched when he touched her, could hear his voice so clearly that she wondered why no one else could. Every night she fell asleep to his presence around her and woke the next morning to the feel of his hand in her hair, on her skin.

 

He talked to her when no one else would, touched her when no one else came near enough. She hated him and loved him all at once.

 

At fifteen, she had met a boy - the first not to throw insults or stones at her. He was new in town and didn't believe all the stories about “demons” and “witches” that he'd heard about her. He was really nice, but then again, the nicest ones always end up being the stupidest.

 

He walked her home that day, tried to hold her hand when they got to her door. The screen flew open in his face before he could actually touch her and it gave him a bloody nose. She cringed, waiting for the screams, waiting for the insults. But he just laughed it off, held a handkerchief to his nose and waved `goodbye.'

 

He was very quiet that night.

 

He didn't hold her as she fell asleep and she couldn't feel him when she woke up. His presence in her mind that day had vanished and while at first she feared what it may mean, the more days that passed without him, she began to hope that maybe her life was turning around, that everything would go back to the way it was before him.

 

A month passed. She and the boy - his name was Hojo - began to see each other everyday after school. They went to the movies, ate out, got ice cream, and walked in the park. She began to make hesitant friends and her grades got better. She changed the way she dressed and did her hair, started to wear make-up, and even tried out for sports and joined clubs.

 

But she never forgot about him.

 

Two months passed and Hojo walked her home one afternoon after spending time at a friend's house. She was happy for the first time in so long, really happy.

 

“Here we are,” Hojo said as he held open the gate for her. She thanked him and turned to say goodbye, but he had stepped into the yard with her. He looked up at her house with a funny smile, “You know something? I've never actually been inside your house. We always split ways at the gate.”

 

He began to walk up the path, but she caught him at the steps to the porch.

 

“Hojo!” she cried and he turned to look at her, startled.

 

“You okay, Kagome? What's wrong?”

 

“Nothing!” she said hurriedly, looking anxiously at the house as she pulled him back toward the gate. “Nothing is wrong. It's just getting close to dinner time and we should probably get going -”

 

He laughed at her, “It's only four, Kagome. We've been out later than this. Come on,” he said, “let's go inside and out of the cold before we get sick.”

 

He walked up the stairs of the porch and into the house, opening the door for her. Her mother never locked the door any more. No one would ever dare to set foot near the house. The mailman left their mail outside of the fence instead of in the mailbox on their porch.

 

She walked past Hojo with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, waiting for him to retaliate. Even though he had been gone for so long, it was too much to expect that he was gone for good. Especially with a boy in the house.

 

But the house was silent as Hojo closed the door behind them and began to take off his coat and boots. He noticed the way she was standing and reached out to help her with her coat.

 

“Are you cold, Kagome?” he asked when she jumped at his touch, but allowed him to help her with her coat. He hung it up next to his, “I hope you didn't catch anything.”

 

“I'm fine,” she told him as she led him into the living room. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Do you want some hot cocoa? That will warm us up.”

 

He smiled at her and nodded as he took a seat on her mother's floral couch and looked about the room. She couldn't help looking up the stairs as she walked into the kitchen, but she couldn't tell if she was looking for her family or expecting something to come flying down at the back of Hojo's unsuspecting head.

 

But everything was silent as she made the cocoa and returned to an expectant Hojo with two steaming cups. Nothing had moved - so far so good.

 

An hour passed and she began to forget why she was so tense while she and Hojo talked and laughed about school and movies and friends. She felt so comfortable that she forgot to be worried. Then Hojo grabbed her hand off the couch and held it gently between them, smiling at her even as they both blushed.

 

“You're so beautiful, Kagome,” he told her, “I can't imagine why no one else sees that.”

 

Her blush deepened as he leaned forward, stopping just inches away from her face, lips so close she could feel his breath on her skin. Her heart skipped several times and her breath caught in her chest. But before he could get any closer, the front door flung open in a blast of chilling wind so strong that papers and magazines flew off the surfaces of the room.

 

The two teens jumped away from each other, putting the length of the couch between them. Kagome shook with fear as the wind blew snow through the open front door, which was pressed tightly against the wall. She could feel the anger in the air as the wind swirled around her and Hojo. She could feel the hate and the jealousy.

 

Poor Hojo, he never had a chance.

 

Kagome clutched the sides of the sofa with white knuckled-fingers, trying to keep her ground in the tornado of wind that tossed her hair into her mouth and blocked her vision. She watched in terror as the teen across from her was whipped off the couch like a rag doll and flung onto the floor across the room. A short scream erupted from him as he struck the wood floor.

 

`NO!' she tried to shout over the storm, but no sound would leave her lips.

 

Something grabbed Hojo by his throat, lifting him out of his prone position on the floor. Pushing her hair away from her face with one hand, she watched him rise slowly until his feet touched only air. He was choking the teen, strangling him as the room around them was thrown into disarray. The desk chair tipped over, banging against the floor with the sound of a gunshot. The doors of the entertainment center flew open and the contents inside spilled out and scattered across the wide area rug, a couple DVD cases slamming into her feet as they shot for the couch.

 

“Stop!” she screamed, finding her voice. “Inuyasha stop!”

 

The grip holding Hojo up threw him across the room again and he slammed into the base of the stairs, where snow had built up from the cold blast of air from the door. The scared boy clutched at his neck and coughed, casting wide and unfocused eyes around the room, looking for his attacker. Kagome tried to get up, to run to him, but a weight fell onto her body, keeping her still. Hojo was grabbed again, this time by his ankle, and was quickly dragged across the floor of the hall and onto the porch. The door slammed shut with a bang and the wind inside the house stopped completely.

 

A sob choked her as her hair fell around her shoulders in a gentle caress. She tipped forward, no longer able to hold herself upright, and lay her head against the cushion as heavy, wet sobs ripped themselves from her body. She felt her heart break within her chest, the sharp pieces of her hope imbedding themselves inside her tender flesh. She cried for Hojo, who was probably running for his life down their street. She cried for her family, who had suffered so much already. She cried for Inuyasha, who had lived and died so tragically.

 

She felt his presence so acutely. After so long without him, his aura was overpowering and she was so aware of his being she knew where he was as he crossed the room from the door and sat down on the couch behind her, curling his body over hers.

 

“Mine,” he growled and she could feel his hands clutching at her sides as he dropped his head onto her back, his nose against her spine. She knew that if she looked behind her, she wouldn't see a thing. She sobbed; crying for her broken dreams, her broken heart.

 

“Yours,” she whispered in return and continued to cry into the couch. The being behind her growled his approval and pressed his non-existent body against hers. Claiming her.

 

___________________________________

Happy Halloween!

AN: I know it's been a while since I've put anything up. I do apologize. Between graduating this summer and starting my first semester of college, as well as working 30 hours a week, I really haven't had any time to start or finish anything. Probably more after finals, we'll see.

Thanks for reading. And Happy Holidays.