HUGE WARNING!

The following chapter is very, VERY dark! There are graphic scenes of gore! For this reason, I am sending out a warning to every one reading this fic! If you are weak of heart, and thought my fist chapter was gory, DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER! I will be posting the next chapter (7) with a brief description of what is contain in this chapter (6), for those that are. If you read this and are disgusted, or angry with me you can shove it because I warned you!

I do not owe either the InuYasha characters or those of YuYu Hakusho.

Warning!!! Graphic gory scenes to ensue, please avoid reading this fic if you are not of a suitable age, or do not have parent consent! You have been warned!

Bitter Memories

Chapter six : The rage of a youkai

The TV set flickered on and off, the screen throwing the broken room into light and quickly taking it away, having the effect of a strobe light. This is how she took in the scene, like some twisted horror show. The living room was in total disarray. The couch was upturned; stuffing and pieces of material littered the floor. All the pictures were broken on the ground, large slits covering them. The broken corpse of the wooden TV stand obstructed her view. With out much though and shaking with bundled up nerves she tossed the heavy TV stand without any hindrance.

Now, the room was completely open to her gaze, and what she seen made her recoil with a shriek of rage and utter depression. The scent of blood was justified. The walls were splattered in the sticky substance. It was new, and still wet. In front of the upturned couch lay her grandfather. His eyes stared up lifelessly at the ceiling. His mouth opened in a silent scream. The sight was horrendous enough that she felt dry heaves convulse her body. Her grandfather's head was the only thing that had remained intact. His body littered the ground in bloody chunks. Dark blood covered the carpet, a large pool surrounding his disassembled form. While the light from the broken and cracked TV flickered on and off she stared at the bloody remains. She could clearly see the muscles, tendons, and entrails that had made up her grandfather. Staggered back into the nearest wall she doubled over and threw up. She was shaking and breathing heavily. She could barely feel her self anymore. Her body was numb, and she knew she had gone into shock. It was the need to know her mother and brother had not met the same fate that ushered her along. She began to whisper at first, then growing steadily louder.

"Souta? Momma? SOUTA?!? MOMMA?!?" Her voice rang through out the eerily quite house. Stumbling to the bottom of the stairs, she peered up into the darkness. Her grandfather's slaughtered form reappearing in her head over and over like a broken record. She could barely drag herself up the stairs. More blood and the strong smell of fear entered her nose. Fearing what she'd find she raced through the torn up hallway, following her nose to the bathroom door. Her heart beating painfully in her chest, she pressed forward and slammed her fist into the oddly intact door, shattering it.

The dark bathroom looked scarily all put together in the wrecked house. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing disturbed. It was this that caused her the most discomfort. Her hand shaking, she reached out for the light switch. Her hand struck the light switch and came away coated in a slick, wet substance. The light came on and she shut her eyes in fright. Slowly opening her eyes she stared dumbly at the dark red liquid that covered her hand. Dropping her hand to her side she peered at the bathroom. The black with red veined tiles were glistening in blood; the floor had small pools coating it. The black shower curtain was drawn, with something pushed into it, creating a billowed effect. She wasn't even aware she had taken a step forward until her hand touched the cool, rough, texture of the plastic shower curtain. Her claws shredded the curtain making the thick red water in the bathtub visible. The 'thing' that had been poking into the shower curtain was a tiny child-like hand. Her vision clouded with tears, she reached for the too small hand. There was no way that hand could belong to her mother; it had to be her baby brother. The small arm was covered in the long sleeve of a shirt. It ran into the bloody tub water, making it too murky to see through. Touching the tiny hand she cried out in pain at the cold lifelessness of it. Pulling on it, in an effort to drag her brother's body from the water, she called out in surprise as the arm came easily, without the body attached. She was thrown off balance and screamed, her mind utterly shattered from her shock. Her brother's sleeve clad arm lay on the ground, having been sliced cleanly from the boy. Desperate to save her brother, she flew to a kneeling position by the tub, and dove her arms into the thick water, fishing around for her brother franticly. Her hands touched the soft, wispy, feeling of hair and followed it to his shoulders. Pulling the boy from the water, she clutched him to her chest. Rocking him in her arms in a reassuring manor, she choked out his name repeatedly. Finally, pulling back she peered at him through tear filled eyes. Her lip trembled in her fear and sorrow. Her brother's eyes were closed tightly in fear, his features pulled back into a pleading look. His throat had been slashed. Several deep cuts indicating the use of claws, covered the boy's dead pale throat. From the lack of color in his lips and skin she realized through her shock filled mind that his body had been drained of blood. Other than his arm, his body was intact. She couldn't tear her eyes from the deep gashes that nearly severed his head. She could see the bone fragments in between the bloody pulp of his throat. Settling him on the ground she kissed his forehead before standing and turning from the small bathroom, leaving a trail of tears in her wake that she hadn't known she spilled.

Wandering around the up stairs she glanced at treasured family pictures, littering the ground. The walls were carved up, slits running deep into the plaster. Her mother's bedroom door was closed, unlike the other rooms. Knowing what she would find, she stood before the undamaged door and placed her head on it's surface. Her shoulders were shaking in sobs and her hallow, frantic sobs echoed down the hall, bouncing off the door. Finally not being able to take it anymore, she reached down and took the cool, smooth, metal doorknob in her hand. Twisting the handle, she pushed the door open in hesitation and apprehension. The light was on, surprising her slightly. With the room bathed in light she took in the cream carpet, unmarred by blood or body parts. A shadow swung a crossed the floor catching her attention. Lifting her gaze to the large bay window in her mother's room she brought her hand quickly to her mouth.

The glass of the majestic, French styled window had been broken out, and in it's place, swinging from bed sheets was her mother. Her mother had been strung up facing the shrine steps, proclaiming to the world the hideous deeds that lay within. A scream ripped from her throat, leaving her raw and sore. Feeling like she may faint, she turned and fled to her room.

Her room like her mother's was left alone, though she didn't notice much. Hanging her head low, she dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. Reeling back she howled, a sound of pure pain and hatred. Her demon blood pumped through her veins, the edges of her eyes marring in a red color. She was beyond pissed off, she was enraged, and nothing was going to stop her from finding a release from her tormented feelings of rage and desperation. She wanted blood; she wanted to feel the life of those responsible drain from them by her hand. She wanted revenge. Her vision clouded in the mist of blood red that over took her aqua eyes, she let out another howl of angst, arching her back and throwing her head back. Then she gave in to the strong, and uncontainable animalistic feelings brought out in the young girl's broken mind. The last thought she had before giving into her demon blood was dark and full of hate.

'Run, they had better run, because when I get a hold of them there won't be any distinguishable pieces left!'

Aggghhhh! I know that was horribly dark and demented, but I wanted Kagome to be alone, and really, really pissed! Bare with me people, I will be making this more on the fluffy and gentle side in a few chapters, after all, I am a romance freak. Those of you that have been waiting for a little Hiei/Kagome action may be pleasantly surprised with the next chapter. Review and tell me what you think, but I will warn you I take flames, and cherish them, but If you flame me for this chapter I will be writing to you in the next chapter of what you can do with your opinion. There was a reason I made this chapter and you didn't have to read it!