Chapter One: Borrowed Bed, Chaotic Head

I pull back the collar on the white button down I woke up in from the night before. Traces of a red bite mark flashed me like a traffic light, daring me to go further to the bruises on my hips and the nail marks on my thighs. I bite my lip as I dare to face myself in the mirror and not hate everything I see. Every bit of rage and heartbreak and emptiness that ripped through my insides.

Every calorie, percentage of fat, and weight that my depression fed and fed my depression.

Who's shirt was this, again? Yioka? Tatsuyo?

I pathetically wrap my arms around myself as my lip trembles between my teeth. Tears that forgot last night's lapse of judgement and only remembered this present shame, blurring my eyes.

What would Makoto think about his little sister being an 'anything but girl' and a tease? Or even worse...what would he do if he knew she'd just handed off her virginity to a stranger in a borrowed, stained bed?

Desperate to tear this random person's memory to shreds and get it off me, I tug and pull and yank at the shirt. Trying to stifle my cry as buttons spring loose and free-fall to the carpet, not able to chase the thoughts away fast enough with the hangover slowing my mind to a crawl.

"Kurumi!" My mother calls, forcing a pained gasp from my lips. "Time to get your breakfast! I don't want you being late."

My rainbow eyes squeeze shut as my hands loosen around the shirt, my head dropping forward with resign. While I wanted to spin the clock backwards, the world carried on and didn't wait long enough for me to get my crap together. It had no sympathy for anyone, not even the Peacock of the Sohma, regardless of the status we held in society.

I had to put on my big girl pants, fake my smiles, and bounce off to school like I didn't just sex my grief away. Because my parents couldn't know that my resolve was as plastic as a mannequin, and broken as my heart.

...

I secure my top knot as I stagger downstairs, a soreness that feels as heavy as pressure, aching between my legs. I didn't really have any girls to tell me that putting out could hurt this much. But then...that was because they all thought I was doing it more than them, anyway. And their jealousy made no room for mall hangouts and late night text convos.

I remove my backpack and drop it by the kitchen table's legs with a thump, smoothing the back of my pleated skirt before seating myself right in the middle. My father offered me a distant smile as he sipped from his 'World's Best Husband' mug, thankful everyday that I never sat in Makoto's seat.

Even though my brother's chair sat vacant for a year, my parents acted as if going in his room or using his things (or warming his stark cold seat) were crimes against him. As if I would ever mock the death of someone I loved...especially when it was my fault.

I keep my head low as I reach for the box of Chex, not really in the mood for bright and colorful Fruit Loops. As I shake it into my cereal bowl, my father pauses in checking his e-mails. Suddenly remembering that he was supposed to ask me if I was excited for school and how my grades were.

"You know me," I say, dry as my breakfast, "School is my passion and reason to live."

He laughs, pushing his tan glasses up in that geeky way of his. "You're fortunate. It took me until I was finishing college to finally decide what I wanted to do with my life. Your brother-"

He pauses. Just as you did when you buried your child when they were meant to outlive you. The same pause that expressed itself in the lines creasing his face, put there by sleepless nights following Makoto's accident. But he quickly backpedals, his throat rolling with a bitter swallow.

"So, your grades? Are they up?"

"Honey, you know never to ask a lady her grades," my mother cuts in, bringing platefuls of steaming hot scrambled eggs and glasses of OJ to set them on the table. She bends to kiss my father on the head, before taking her place at the other end of the table. Having papers to grade and cheesy eggs to eat. She was surprisingly lenient with me about my grades considering she was a schoolteacher for people my age. Maybe between her suffocating grief and dealing with high-school students all day, by the end of it, she just couldn't muster up the energy to ask.

"Its important, sweetheart. Imagine she was before a judge having to give an account as to why her grades are low. Its no different from answering to a college admissions board. What is her alibi? Can anyone corroborate her story?"

My mom rolls her eyes, tapping her red grading pen against her plate. "I told you not to bring the courtroom home with you. It doesn't apply to every situation Mr Never-Lost-A-Case prosecutor."

He huffs, draining the last of his coffee before standing to rinse it out in the sink. "I'm merely trying to head it off at the pass. What about hiring a tutor? That Yuki fellow...is he still available?"

I nearly choke on my sip of orange juice, having believed there was an unspoken rule that exes were off limits at the kitchen table. It was a choking hazard and a one way ticket to a sick stomach.

"Are you alright?" My mom demands, jumping to her feet in terror. My father rubs my back, though he couldn't quite hide the fear that he could have just as easily lost another child. Over something so small and simple.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I fold my arms over my chest as my father retracts his hand, exchanging a look with my mother as if he didn't quite think I was telling the truth.

Why did he have to bring him up? Hadn't I had my heart stomped on enough in the past twelve months?

During my first year of high school, days after the accident, I only held apathy for living. I served on the student council that year as the school treasurer, but had agreed before the damage was done. Before my heart cracked and clunked to the floor, having turned into impenetrable stone with nothing left to keep it beating.

I'd decided to skip a meeting one day and sat outside on the school sidewalk. I remember the overwhelming burden of darkness I felt. I'd stared up at the sky, everything devoid of life...joy. I'd been sitting there for so long, I hadn't even realized the sun had begun setting – the sky erupting in hues of pinks, purples, and blues. It wasn't until someone tapped me on the shoulder that I'd noticed how late it had actually gotten. I looked up and found myself lost in the mysterious, grey eyes of the school's prince. I'd made fun of him, addressing him as 'his highness,' in the past...but in this moment, I saw Yuki and only Yuki. Everything else around me blurred and every sound faded into background noise.

"Hello, Miss Sohma. I missed you in student council today," he said to me. "Are you alright?"

When I didn't answer immediately, he took a seat beside me. Akito's prized possession was actually going out of his way to check up on me. And he didn't even have to. When I first heard of him, I thought he was just Akito's pet. A mindless toy at his beck and call, waiting on the head of the Sohmas hand and foot.

But he turned out to be more than that...much more.

"I heard about the accident…I'm so sorry." His words caught me off guard. I supposed word spread quickly throughout the family. It wouldn't take long before someone knew all the skeletons in your closet with the way the old biddies flapped their lips between the halls of the main house.

I nodded, not knowing how to respond to his condolences. I'd been hearing so many apologies and words of pity these past few days that I didn't want to hear anymore. How many ways could I thank someone for their sadness or their empty words without losing it?

I had managed to not cry the entire time, but not because of I was heartless or because the way he was taken wasn't uncommon. But because I didn't deserve it. Makoto deserved more than my tears...he deserved his life back.

I had shut my emotions off, refusing to feel anything. I numbed myself so that I wouldn't be in pain. I wouldn't allow myself to sink so deep into my grief that I wouldn't be able to snap out of it.

But something about this moment, whether it was the way Yuki looked at me with such sadness reflected in those eyes…or the hand that reached out for mine. My entire body shook like a volcano waking from its dormant state, a lump the size of Tokyo forming in my throat. A tear escaped the corner of my eye, as I looked at him. Breathing in the smell of rain on the horizon, and exhaling my pain into the air. He drew me to him, wrapping his arms around me as my heart erupted in agony from inside my chest. Yuki had been the only one to truly comfort me, the only one to see through my façade and know the deep anguish I felt…

It wasn't long after that we started spending more time together. Leaning on each other for the worst of life, and celebrating the heights. Being there for the wounds just as much as the relief. Our shared hurt drove us closer until next thing I knew, we were seeing each other without caring to slow down for anyone or anything.

But Akito somehow found out about our relationship and threatened to lock me up in the cat's room…so after too short a time being together...he let me go. The rat left me to my darkness, letting me suffer and wallow in my depression alone…all because he thought I needed his protecting. I told him countless times that I could protect myself, but he never relented. He was on his white horse and I was somewhere in the troughs with the slop.

He eventually stopped returning my texts, so things ended between us with a screeching halt. I told myself that I never wanted to associate with Yuki or see him again. And for awhile...I thought that would never change.

"I think I'm going into school early," I say, instead of dignifying my father's suggestion. "I'll see you guys later." Before they could respond, I tossed my bag over my shoulder, pulled on my doc martens, and was out the door.

Hey guys! I'm in the process of rewrites for many stories, including this one, and really wanted to post something. Its been a long four month wait in between updates, but I hope this holds you over until I finish up with some things!