The Gray Bird by PhoenixBlade

Chapter One

I was inspired to write this story after reading this booklet I had gotten at the 2nd Annual Hmong Women's Conference of some hmong women who faced trivialities in their marriages. I've incorporated three of their stories into this fic: one woman whose husband had been cheated on her and married a second wife.  Another whose husband was having an affair and refused to give it up and another who was the one at fault for failing as a wife despite her husband being the one who was cheating on her.

Well, I also incorporated the poem By The Lower Mississppi (which this story is also named after) because I like it.

DISCLAIMER: I suppose I should have put this in here, but since one commenter was disappointed in me for being irresponsible (of which I greatly apologize for) and not putting this down, I will do so. There will be talk of mental abuse (lots of it) and emotional trauma going on. Be forewarn, this is not a happy story. Abuse is not good, physical or mental or any other form of it. Not all relationships go well or survive these kinds of abuse. Few even learn from it and get better.  You guys are all smart, I trust in you that you can understand that love is blind and that abuse is not justifiable in anyway, even if it is for love.  So just take into consideration that this is still just a story, not real. ABUSE. IS. BAD. End of story.

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The Gray Bird

Chapter One

by PhoenixBlade

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Pit! Pat! Whoosh! Pit! Pat! Whoosh!...repeat.

The king of rivers has a dolorous shore…

The rain hit the windshield as the wipers tried to clear the windshield for the driver. He was quite pissed. It was late and they had the misfortune of being stuck in traffic. He muttered something about “damn weatherman” and “damn drivers” and proceeded to curse them to the seven hells and back. His passenger sat silently in her seat with her eyes staring out at nothing in particular.

Kagome tried not to pay him any mind nor give him any of her attention either. Her breaths came in and out shakily, silent and mournful. Had the sun still been up and the sky cloudless with no rain to descend upon the earth, other drivers who just happened to peer into the passenger’s seat may have noticed the red and swollen eyes, the somewhat runny nose and the way she seemed to gulp every few seconds to try to wet her throat.

Her throat was sore and dry from the angry shouting and crying she had so graciously bestowed upon the wrong-doer just earlier. Unfortunately, that same wrong-doer was the person who was now in the driver’s seat fuming in silence at her, the weather and the dead-still traffic. It was also this same person who (in the car before they stopped shouting at each other) slapped her hard across the face, giving her a now darkening bruise on her cheek.

A dreamful dominion of cypress-trees…

Her eyes briefly turned to the man whom she barely saw (sometimes for days at a time) and abhorred at the moment beside her. His face was devoid of any emotion (something which she was always furious about) and he was slumped back in his seat. His one hand gripped the steering wheel tightly in anger and the other was nestled to the side of his head. His amber eyes though, something that had drawn her in when she had first looked upon his lovely visage, no longer held that certain softness that he would give her each time they coupled at night.

They were fierce, angry and told of a thousand things that he could do to her since she had pissed him off. The silence between them was thunderous and boomed louder than that of the thunder above. He fumed, she sulked. They hated each other.

She thought for a moment to turn on the radio. She hated silence. It was bothersome and annoying… like him. He was the same way too. At the beginning of their relationship, it was she who had done most of the talking while he did most of the action. He was still a man of action and not of words.

Perhaps that’s where it had gone wrong in the first place. There was no communication between the two. Well, there was or maybe there had been a bit. She was always able to tell what his thoughts were and how he was feeling at the moment without voicing it, but verbally, there had been no connection. No words of comfort, no romantic nonsense that she had been head over heels for when she had been younger. Nothing at all. She had always told him how she felt, outwardly expressed it in colorful words, hand movements and on her face and yet he remained the same, seemingly uncaring and unspoken.

She began fidgeting with the rim of her black skirt. Maybe he had gotten bored of her or he just didn’t like her talking too much. That was clincher there. She started thinking that she wasn’t good enough. What had she done wrong that had driven him away from her and into another woman’s bed? Was she not screaming his name enough in bed? Was she too fat? Did he prefer certain positions over others when they made love? What was wrong with her?

A gray bird rising forever more…

After she found out about her husband’s traitorous affair, she broke down and cried. She begged him for a reason why he would do such a thing and if he even cared about her own feelings. He didn’t seem to care and walked off. She threatened an end to their marriage and he shook it off, saying that she was bluffing. He was right, she couldn’t do it. Till death do they part… He wanted to stay married to her for god only knows what reason and continued to commit adultery with not one, not two women but with who knows how many! She didn’t have the guts to say anything afterwards. His mistresses and lovers were all more beautiful than her, more stunning, more accomplished or more academic… Something about them had made them a better bed partner than her.

After she found out about his misdeed, she went out driving, sometimes hours at a time. She drove before she went to work. She drove after she went to work. She drove on her days off. She didn’t know where she would drive to, but only followed what she felt like at the time. She could not express her anger and sadness to anyone nor show it. Sesshoumaru’s family were accomplished people, things like his affairs weren’t meant for anyone else’s eyes or ears. So, she drove for hours at a time and drove wherever the road led to without anyone realizing what she was doing.

She would drive to her grandfather’s shrine, which was located very far away from where she was living now, and sometimes, she parked outside the shrine in hopes that someone would come out and see her, but for some reason, she would always drive off when she spotted someone coming out. She would drive to her friends’ houses, her old schools, her work, her favorite places that she used to shop at, her favorite tourist sights… She drove to alleviate the pain in her heart, but it did little good for her and her gas bills…

And drifting away toward the Mexican seas…

She was a woman, stuck in her own gender-based culture and traditional roles. A divorced woman was shamed and ridiculed. She had to stick by her husband no matter how many women he slept with. The only person to be blamed in the failing of their marriage was her. She wasn’t a good enough wife for him. That’s why. Perhaps it was her image? Perhaps she was too fat? One day, she stripped off all her clothes and looked in the mirror. She looked at herself for a very long time and from there on, she hated her body. She needed to look different.

Look different, perhaps that was it, she had thought. So whenever she ate, she would go to the bathroom afterwards and throw it all up. It hurt at first, but she got used to it afterwards. She had gotten bulimic. He never found out about her problem because she never told him. She went to the mall and bought a whole new wardrobe. Something more revealing, more to tempt the imaginations of men. The guys at work practically drooled over her when she tried it out on them, but her dearest merely grunted and did her that night. That was the last time they had sex.

Okay, so the imagery wasn’t working. What was wrong? She had thought long and hard and figured that it may be her personality that was flawed. She was a forceful woman and very expressive of her thoughts. It was because of this that had drawn her husband to her at first, or so he said. Maybe after several years of their marriage, he didn’t feel that her challenging attitude was worth it anymore. So she decided to be the submissive wife, helpless but to obey and follow his every word… He ignored her even more.

A lone bird seeking for some lost mate…

After playing the role of a skinny, model-dressed, submissive wife, she realized she could not escape that role. He blatantly ignored her and refused to acknowledge her change. She couldn’t even see herself in his eyes anymore. She was devastated. She was a ruined person who was now stuck in a role she had never wanted to be in and noone could help her. She could not confide in anyone save for her mother who could not help her own daughter. Her mother cried with her when she told her, but her mother could not kiss her forehead and make all the bad nightmares go away like she used to do when Kagome had been younger. She had remarried and her new husband wasn’t too keen on having her other children around.

Her brother had gone away to America to study abroad and her grandfather could not do much either. He was a shrine priest and compared to her dear husband, he could do nothing against a man who held much influence and power. Her relatives were too busy with their own lives to care about her and her friends had all left to seek out new lives. Work was not a place to bring up your personal problems and her boss had pointed it out to her on the first day she was working that her personal life was to be kept separate from work. Period. She had noone else to turn to.

So dolorous, lorn and desolate…

She almost took that back whenher best friend, Sango, came back from overseas. She had gone to Europe to become a fashion designer. Sango called her out of the blue one day and they went out all night to catch up on old times. Sango was starting to get famous for her designs and had a somewhat perverted but very nice boyfriend whom she had been going steady with for two years. They were to engaged and to be married soon after Sango made her debut to the public.

She had been happy for Sango and when Sango asked her for the details in her life, she could not find the heart to ruin the happy mood her friend was in and promptly lied that her life was going along fine. Sango failed to notice her sadness and so, she kept lying to her each time they met. They went out a lot when Sango's boyfriend wasn't around and she was happy, momentarily... Sesshoumaru began to get verbally abusive at this point and began to trash their things, mainly hers. He started to think that she was cheating on him and so he restricted her from doing many things and going outside.

The shores are gray as the sands are gray…

She was like a caged bird and stopped taking calls from Sango. She could not see her mother and was allowed to go outside except to work. She had never been much in the public eye anyway for anyone to notice that she was Sesshoumaru’s wife. She had to put up a false front and smile falsely to people who would ask about Sesshoumaru and her. Inside, she was being torn apart, she was aching mentally and physically, she felt that she was dying. She started to get various medical problems which she hid from her husband and her fellow employees. She hid away the bottles of medicine that her doctor told her to take. She threw up everynight into the toilet from stress and from the many bottles of alcohol she consumed. She lied when someone asked her if she was feeling okay when she was feeling sick. She locked herself up in places that people wouldn’t go to and cried. She felt pitiful and pathetic…

Suddenly one day,he took her out and talked to her. She was amaze and was overjoyed, but when they were in a restaurant ready to order, he told her he might remarry by taking on a second wife, not divorce, but marry another. She felt her blood freeze and went dead still as he called up his mistress who came not too soon after. Kagome took a good look at her and felt hideous. His girlfriend was a model and not just any model, his soon to be wife number two was Kagura, the internationally known model. How could she compare to that?

Kagura sneered at her and was cuddly all over him throughout the meal. He wanted Kagome to step down from the limelight as his wife and let Kagura take her place, but he did not want a divorce. So, he wanted to commit polygamy then? He was a man of tradition, but polygamy? Such a thing was not seen much these days, but was still accepted somewhat. Despite her obvious shock, anger and feeling of betrayal, she excused herself from the meal saying that she was going to the toilet and immediately escaped outside. She took a cab home and broke down in her room which she had moved into long ago when Sesshoumaru started bringing his whores home.

And gray are the trees in their cloaks of moss…

After several days of not eating and with no visible sign of her husband at their home, she finally decided to either get help or commit suicide. She called up Sango and told her everything. Sango immediately came to pick her up. They cried together when she stepped into the house and apologized greatly to one another, one for lying and other for not noticing. Sango took her over to her house that her boyfriend, Miroku and she shared. They sat in her living room with untouched hot coffee and cried for her. It was then that Sango told her to stay over. Miroku was overseas on business and so for the time being, she wanted Kagome to stay over and be safe, both from her husband and from committing suicide.

Kagome stayed with Sango for about a week and had been happier than she had been from the moment Sesshoumaru kept her locked away, it was only a small bit of happiness, but it was better than nothing. They watched old cartoons that they used to love when they were younger, old school concerts they were in together, new movies, made foreign food, potted new plants and even crocheted together. It was fun… but it didn’t last long.

Sango received a phone call earlier today and promptly bitched at the other end of line and abruptly hung up saying that he was a “bastard.” Kagome went to panic mode then. She knew who it was, it was him. Sango had just given away that Kagome was over at her house. Sango reassured her that she wouldn’t let her husband take her away. In less than an hour, as they were settling down to an early supper, there was a banging on the door. Sango went to go check.

That gray bird rising and drifting away…

As Kagome sipped her soup, there came some shouts, swearing from Sango and she heard a loud thud. She dropped her spoon and rushed over to the front door and stopped when she got into the hallway that looked to the front door. Sango was on the ground nursing a growing bump on her head. Looming over her was her “dearest” husband, looking ready to kill someone. Behind him were his bodyguards, his uncles, cousins and his father, all of whom were male. Male supremacy, go figure.

All the pain and anguish came back in a rush as Sesshoumaru turned his angry eyes upon her and she was knocked out as her feelings became too overwhelming for her. When she came to, she was lying in the living room couch with Sango beside her. She looked around and saw that Sesshoumaru, his father and several of his uncles were sitting nearby. Before she could breathe a word or anyone else for that matter, Sesshoumaru spoke in a dangerously angry tone, “You are coming back with me.”

She felt the waterworks coming and it spilled out as the men told her to return to Sesshoumaru. She was his wife and no matter what, she had to stay by his side. She could not abandon him or his name would be blemished. She tried to speak out of his doings, but they had already known. What he was doing was his own business. She had no part in it at all, but to be his faithful wife, his property because they had paid a price for her, a bride’s price that her own family has set. They had bought her and so she was theirs, Sesshoumaru’s in particular.

Slow dragging its weary long legs across…

She cried and begged for them to let her go, to divorce him, anything to let the pain with him go away. Sango pleaded as well, but they were only women going up against men, of which held incredible power in society. They blatantly ignored their protests and threatened Sango with kidnapping. For Sango’s safety, Kagome agreed to go back and be the loyal and ever faithful wife to Sesshoumaru, regardless of her feelings. Sango begged her not to go, but she refused sadly and left with Sesshoumaru. Sesshoumaru took her in his own car and his father and the others went in theirs. They would meet up at his father’s house and “talk” to her. Talk which she knew would consist of lecturing, scolding and degrading her because she was a bad wife and was not living up to what she had promised them when she married Sesshoumaru. Then it rained and they got stuck in traffic.

Now she was alone with him, with the man who had ruined her life. If only she had not bumped into him that one day in college. If only she had not apologized and ignored that smooth, but sharp voice of his. If only she had not looked up and been entranced by those honey colored eyes his, those cold eyes that froze people on the spot and still drew them in. She had fallen for those eyes right away and after that, she kept “bumping” into him, (more like he was purposely bumping into her) and asking for forgiveness by taking him out to coffee. They decided to go out after that and then one thing led to another and they fell for one another… or at least that’s what she’d like to believe because he adamant about marrying her and ignored what his family had said about her status.

She heard a collective sigh from him and turned slightly to look. His hands were holding loosely onto the steering wheel and his head had been thrown back to his car seat. He was frustrated, she could tell. In times likes these, she would have him sit down in a chair and gently massage his neck and coax him into slumber to ease his mind off the stress from his work, but now someone else would be doing the same thing for him. She was no longer in the picture.

She sniffled and let her body relax so that she would be ready for the verbal abuse later, the calm before the storm. She breathed in deeply and took long breaths, in and out. She closed her eyes and imagined the days before, the days when they had been happy and when she had once been happy…

So weary, just over the gray wood's brink…

“Kagome.”

She jumped and her eyes snapped open. She had fallen asleep! She moved to sit up and felt something warm fall down to her lap. It was a heavy black jacket… and it belonged to Sesshoumaru. She turned to look at him and saw that he had fallen asleep at the wheel… Wait. Sleep?

She panicked for a bit before she realized that the car was parked in an empty parking lot. She went back to Sesshoumaru and watched him sleep. He slept silently, made no noise and looked… like an angel… She used to love watching him sleep and waking up beside his sleeping form before. She missed those times so much…

A strand of his hair was tossed across his face and was bothering him. She hesitantly, but slowly reached over and brushed it to the side gently. Before she knew it, she cupped his smooth and flawless face with her hand. She gently caressed his cheek and he nuzzled her hand in his sleep. She smiled a small smile and suppressed the tears that wanted to come. Pulling his jacket from her lap, she placed it around him to keep him warm. After about ten minutes of watching him sleep, she unlocked the door and walked out of the car. She noticed a small park with a playground nearby and closed the door quietly before going over. As she walked over, she noticed that the sky was a little cloudy and was gaining some color from the slow rising sun. She went to the swing in the playground and sat down, almost giggling in delight as memories of her childhood sprang forth. Ah… those were the days…

She swung back and forth on the swing for a while, and giggled loud enough for no one around to hear. It made her forget that she was depressingly sad and was in the middle of a marriage crisis...

“Ahem,” came from behind her.

Scratch that, almost.

Her feet clawed down into the sand and slowed her ascension into the air. Her feet hit the ground until she came to a stop. Her head fell a little and she tensed up, waiting for something bad to happen. Would he degrade her like he usually did? Scream or shout at her? Would he grab her from the behind and shove her tired body to the ground? Or would he fist his hand into her hair and make her look at him, scrutinizing her with his eyes and grim lined mouth?

It wearies one, body and soul to think…