Breathless by Aiko Fujiwara

Prologue: Freedom

Blanket disclaimer: This applies to all chapters of this fanfiction and will not be reposted.  I make no money from the writing of this story, and the express rights of Inuyasha and any other characters from the series belong to Rumiko Takahashi, Sunrise, Yoimuri, and Viz.

She thought back to the beginning, and though she had but few, vague memories she recalled them each with a fondness that she'd rarely experienced in her grief ridden life.  He had been a kind man, had held her close and called her his princess.  He had been the one to carry her on his back, and buy her ice cream cones.  Her father had been the light in all of their lives.  But the tumor had been caught late, the cancer was aggressive, and he'd had no will to undergo the chemotherapy that would make his last few months miserable.  So instead, he'd lived freely, loving and laughing all the way to his death bed.  It had been his last gift to the family he had loved and cherished.

His passing had been rough on the family, and her mother had not taken it well at all.  She spent many nights in a room with nothing but the soft glow from the TV to light her solemn face.  It seemed she cried more often than not, and so when a man finally came into her life, they'd all felt blessed.

In the beginning he'd been cordial if not just slightly cold.  He'd told their family of his life before in the military, a colonel in the Army who'd never settled down due to his constant moving about the world.  He'd seemed well read and well travelled, with interesting stories and tales of far off lands.   He'd seemed worldly and wise and when he'd proposed to her mother they had all been thrilled.

That was before, that was the beginning.  Not a year after her mother and now, step-father  had taken their matrimonial vows he'd begun to threaten her, tell her she was, "Skating on thin ice" and that she ought to, "Watch herself if she knew what was good for her."  He was becoming a different man, but never in the face of her mother.  No, he kept in her mother's good graces, and was remained nothing short of the perfect husband, until her mother's untimely passing five years later.

The first time he'd ever laid a hand on her she'd deliberately broken the rules and had gone against his will.  He was NOT her father and she did not have to answer to him.  She had come home well after 9 o'clock, and at the tender age of 10 had, "Worried him sick."  This did not sit well with the colonel.  He'd struck her clear across the cheek and she ran to her room and hadn't come down at all the following day.

It two days later he had sought her out.  He rapped softly on her door and didn't come in without permission, and with all the tenderness in the world explained how she had worried him, and that while he should not have raised his hand to her she was still out of line.  His apology had seemed so sincere, and for the following year it seemed he had gone back to the man she had hoped he was. 

But less than 12 months later he struck her again, this time with a closed fist.  For what?  She couldn't recall.  And it seemed the more he drank, the more she endured his suffering.  In the earlier years, she damned the gods, asking how they could allow this to happen to her, and what she had done to deserve this treatment.  In the earlier years, she fought back.  But as time went on, and with her 18th birthday rapidly approaching she opted to shut her mouth and persevere.  He would not break her, she was stronger than this, she was stronger than HIM.

When she turned 18 she'd gotten a job, and worked 60+ hour weeks.  She'd saved and scrimped every penny, until she could afford a shoddy apartment in a less than reputable neighborhood. 

She remembered that night vividly.  The night she ran.

He'd gone to a high school reunion, she'd crammed everything she could into her sub-compact car and transferred load after load to her new place.  Not having had the luxury to pack beforehand had posed problems, and trying to move without boxes or bags had been difficult, but the promise of freedom had kept her going without stopping for food once.

Three months went by, and she'd seen hide nor hair of her step-father and she had finally begun to heal.  But into the fourth month he'd come pounding on her front door in the middle of the afternoon, swearing and slurring like a drunken sailor.  He'd grabbed her roughly and threw her to the floor, swearing on her mother's grave that she would regret running away.  She still didn't know how he found her. 

That night she moved again.  Packing up her little car and once again lugged car load after car load of her possessions to a new apartment, in a better neighborhood, on the other side of town.  But he found her again, and the beatings continued, never lessening but never worsening either.  He was, if nothing else consistent. 

Four dreadful years of college and shoddy apartments later she finally left for good.  She fled to America where she landed an entry level job as a PR representative in New York City.  At the age of 22 Kagome Higurashi, was finally free. 

A/n: This is just a quick little drabble that I've been working on for a bit, a Sess/Kag vignette of sorts. Also, this is your forewarning, the characters in this fic may be extremely OOC.  This is completely un-beta'd and as some of you authors may know, it can be hard to catch your own mistakes. So if you'd like to do me a great big, giant favor and be my beta you can go ahead and leave a review that includes your e-mail, and I'll send you the chapters and do a repost. Thanks in advance!