Summary: Looking at Kagome Higurashi, you'd never know that she carried a secret storm. Her therapist suddenly quits on her, and she must go to find someone else to help her. She struggles to keep her new therapist out of her life. She tells him the best of her is gone. Why won't he believe it? Kagome's POV.

"Sign Language"

Hi, ya'll! Well, I bet you all missed me, huh? I doubt it, actually. This story is another Inuyasha/Kagome story (I don't know why I'm so into that pairing recently). So, hope you like it. A lot of this story reminds me of myself. Mainly the pain part of it... That don't make sense. I'll shut up, now...

Best of You
Chapter 1: Standards

I don't know why I'm giving into others so easily. I don't want therapy, nor do I need it. Sure, I refuse to talk. That's no big deal to me. Everyone's just making a bigger deal out of it than is necessary.

Because someone is different, they worry. Because I don't speak, they worry. Because I don't let them know what happened, they worry. They have to stop worrying. They'll hurt themselves worrying over a person like me.

They'll hurt me if they worry too much. They don't intend to do it, I'm sure. Human nature is to worry when something isn't normal. Voluntary mute syndrome must be abnormal. Funny, because I don't remember reading that in my text books a few years ago.

So, here I am once again, trying to do some therapy homework. A diary, they tell me to write. I don't want to have a diary, so I practically talk to myself. If I get a diary, then there's a chance people can get my words from me. My words are for me, and me alone.

I lean back in my desk, staring at the ceiling. It's almost amusing how people can panic, just because I'm not like them. I should try to act like everything is fine. It's hard to when you've been through things that you dare not repeat...

He stood over me, trying to prove his dominance over me. I wasn't rebelling, so what dominance was there?

I jerk my head towadrs the door as someone knocks. One of my assisstants comes in, smiling brightly.

"Hi, Kagome! I'm glad you're not spacing out like you seem to always do!" She tells me. Even though I know she means well, I don't find it funny. I know I space out, and I try not to. I don't even realize that I space out half the time. The other half, I'm on some new drug the therapist gave me. I wave to my employee, showing her that I recognize her presence.

"Well, I was going to remind you that there's a big thing going on tonight. You have the club's one year anniversary. The recipe you gave the cooks, well... They're having trouble with it and need your help." She tells me. I nod then get up. I walk to the kitchen, and begin to cook the recipe... The recipe my mother had given me when I was old enough to cook my own food...

"Kagome, I want you to remember this recipe. It's come down all the way from great-grandma Kaede. Can you remember it for me?" My mother asked me. I nodded my head innocently. I was so unnaware of everything at the time. She began to sing a song, the song that would tell you what needed to be done in the recipe.

"Momma, look! The dough is squishy!" I said happily. My mother smiled then took a piece of it and gave it to me.

"It's sweet too, taste!" She encouraged. I ate it, savoring the sugar-infested flavor.

I put all the ingredients in, not even needing to look at the measurements I gave them. I finish it then give some of them a piece of the dough. Every time I make it, I share the dough. I guess it's a habbit that came along when my mother did that to me the first time I remembered it.

I place the dough in the oven and place the timer for twenty-three minutes. I look at them, and then at the instructions that I left them. I scratch off something, replacing it with another number. Everyone nods then goes to work on the food. I turn around and leave.

My mother was a wonderful woman. My father had died when I was only four. She managed to raise me and my brother while keeping up two jobs. During the summer, it was three jobs. My great grandma would always watch us on request. She was really nice to us, and spoiled us rotton.

But things change. I guess I had no way of knowing what was about to come. I should have acted differently. I took them for granted. I thought Grandma Kaede would always be there for me, and the same with my mother. I with I had known differently when I was a child. I guess it would have made things much easier for my mind to digest.

But, I can't go back and change time. I know that, even though I still wish otherwise. I know that everything happened that way, and that there's bound to be something good coming from this. Even so, my heart doesn't think that. It was a bad thing, and nothing good can come from something as severe as this.

I should stop. Dwelling on the past will only tempt me to talk to my therapist. I hate those people. They don't understand that they're trying too hard. They sound so annoying when they try to get into your head. My therapist has been trying for three years to get into my head. I'm sick of listening to her endless chitter-chatter.

I sit at my desk, turning on my computer. I scan through my emails, checking to see who they're from.

I have something from my therapist. Yippee. I can't wait to talk to her overly-happy self. I look at it, and see the one thing I was hoping she'd forget. She sent me a reminder for the appointment tomorrow. I was hoping she'd forget so I'd have an excuse to skip out. Even though it's on my calender, I can still claim I'll forget.

I delete the email and then close the program. I guess I should have expected to go no matter what. If she didn't remind me, my employees would have. Unfortunately.

I know they intend to help me, but I don't want or need help. The club I run has a lot of nice people. Even though it's the most popular club during the night, everyone is really friendly during the day. I know each of their names here, and everyone knows mine. I don't act like I'm too good to talk to the janitor. In fact, he happens to be really funny. He's gotten me to smile a few times. That's a record on it's own.

My friend works at the bar, and her boyfriend works as my D.J. He's a really good one, too. Although he can become a pervert, I don't mind. He won't touch me, just his girlfriend. Before they went out, he would grab any woman's butt. Thankfully he limited it to just hers, or else I doubt they'd be together still.

She's a really nice lady. She started working at the bar because she likes to laugh. All the drunks who sit in my club stupidly entertain her. I think she tells the stories to Miroku so they can laugh at them together.

My dance club isn't just dancing. Like I said, there's a bar. I have a restaurant-type place in the back of the place. If you're coming in through the doors, it's on the left. The bar is on the other side, and the dancing takes place in the middle.

It doesn't get too loud, believe it or not. I keep the volume just right. When you're in the restuaraunt, it sounds like background music. It's not bad, either. In fact, someone liked my place a lot. They called a few weeks prior to ask us about doing something special for him. We did it, charging half the price of the supplies, and he proposed that night. It was really heart-warming.

I would've congradulated the two, but I don't speak. Someone actually said it was funny how someone who doesn't talk can run such a successful place. I think it's because I don't do speeches. I have better people do them.

So, this is normal. I don't speak, I just listen and sometimes help. I don't see anything wrong with it. My employees do, and they all threaten me. If I don't get therapy, then they say they'll strike. Worse than that, they'll probably stop being my friend. I'd hate that more than anything else.

I haven't been really good at keeping friends since I was little. I was informed that you could tell a friend anything. I told my friend what I thought of her when I was little, and she stopped talking to me. So, I stopped telling people my opinions. I lost three friends due to that in high school. Friends are just... impleasable...

"You'll never be capable of human relationships, Kagome! You're a failure!" He shouted at me. I curled up on the floor, crying. Not from his words, I didn't understand them at the time. I was crying because he was angry at me, and I didn't understand why.

So, he predicted the future. I can't keep a relationship going long with anyone. Not when I was trying to. Now I can keep a few relationships, just as long as they don't mind my silence. Sango and Miroku are my best friends for two main reasons.

They both know sign language. I can tell them things when I want to. Sango always knows the problem on my mind. Miroku always knows how to solve it or make the feeling go away. They're better therapists than my professional therapist is. The professionals try too hard. That's why.

I still want to know the answer to this one question. Why does everyone assume that I need help? I've coped with my experiences for a lot of years on my own. I don't know exactly how many, since the years blur together right now. But I can deal with them...

Not like anyone else can. If they were to know the things that happened, they'd snap. I know that any of my friends would have gone insane from hearing some of my stories. So, I keep them inside. I don't talk to keep away from any conversations that may tempt me to say them.

That's just how it is.

Next time on The Best of You...
Blah blah blah. They think they can pry into my life and just get all the information from me. They try too hard. So, on another therapy session, I just reply to questions in one of three ways. I nod, shake my head, or attempt to leave. They'll never understand what's going on, so why won't they stop trying?

How'd that go? I think it went well, considering that I just thought of this a few days ago. Have you noticed that I've been giving all my characters bad experiences recently?

I guess they relate to me in those ways. I will update soon, or you should hope.

Next chapter requires... I think I need 10 reviews before you can get the next chapter!

- Bipolar Tangerine