Summary: Kagome moved from Japan to America when she was in seventh grade. Shestopped talking in eigth grade, and no one knows why. Now, in eleventh grade, Kagome will undergo a series of events that will dramatically change her...Kagome's POV.

Rated M. Why? Because my mind has many bad things in it and I don't know what I might use...

Dates Written:
April 4th, 2006
April 5th, 2006

Everything is made in the style of Kagome writing in her diary about the day's events. I don't usually like this format, but I will try to make it as interesting as possible.

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The Games We Play
Entry One: Meet… Me

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Day One:

Wow. It sounds like I'm counting out days of captivity or enslavement. I guess I kind of am…

I hate my life so much. Things used to be so happy and chipper. That's not the story of my life now. It just got harder and harder.

Before I get into that, I suppose I should introduce myself. How silly of me. Introducing myself to my own diary… Not like you even know that I'm writing here… I don't even know if I'll put you to good use…

Whatever. My name is Kagome Higurashi, and I hate everything. Mainly myself and my horrible, scarred past. So many things have happened and I'm only sixteen. Scratch that. I'm seventeen. My birthday was last week.

Surprise surprise. No one even remembered. Not even my mother…

My father died when I was little. I remember being angry with him over something so trivial. I had yelled at him because he had failed to get me a toy I so desperately wanted. He had tried to calm me down and tell me that we didn't have any money.

I was around nine, I think. Perhaps that's too old to be considered little. Back to what I was saying. My dad and I were on the way home. I wouldn't talk to him. He was trying to explain it to me still, but I kept telling him that I hated him.

Then he turned to me and tried to console me out of my anger. He didn't notice the red light ahead of us. We plowed through the intersection. We hit five cars.

I still remember getting out of the car and trying to call for my dad. I called for him over and over. I wasn't angry at him, I was scared. I wanted him to comfort me. No matter how much I cried for him, my voice was too quiet to be heard over all the commotion.

I walked to the driver's door to try to get him out. I thought that he was just playing with me. I didn't understand the concept of death. I had nofear at that age.

I remember the blood. I remember it very vividly. My dad had been cut up. I found out later what happened. He had unbuckled his seatbelt, most likely in an attempt to protect me. He couldn't get to me. The crunched up metal tore through his body like it was tissue paper. It tore him up as if he didn't have any flesh to protect him...

I couldn't eat for days. I broke my arm and leg in the accident. The toy I wanted… I never wanted anything that remotely reminded me of the object. It was a beautiful, pure white, toy horse. It wasn't tall, but it was so pretty.

I can't even look at horses or at white animals without feeling horrible. Anything that is by the company Breyer, I can't even touch. It reminds me so much of my father. I miss him. I know it's my fault that he's dead.

My mother and I never got along after that. She always wanted to pry into my little brain and figure out what I was thinking. I wouldn't let her. I didn't let anyone but my younger brother know what I had thought.

Then he ran away. My mother had spent so much time prying into my mind that she neglected him. I know where he is, but I won't tell her. She'll just torture him the same way she tortures me. She'll pick at him until he lets her know what goes on inside his brain.

After he ran away, my mother lost it. She began walking around and talking to herself. Sometimes she would see me and talk to me a bit. But, most of the time, she didn't. My grandfather took care of her and I. He was my dad's father.

Grandpa will, one day, die. I am teaching myself to fend on my own. Because of our meager situation, we don't have much money. I'm forced to steal from people. I don't want to, but I have to eat, too. If I begged for food on the streets, I'd end up with another misfortune.

I don't even remember what I had started writing. I guess, when you first create a diary, it's safe to babble all you want. I don't have to worry about cramps, with you. I am just creating a diary on my computer. Another page for each entry…

My school. That must be the next item to discuss on the list. I go to a magnet school. Brainiacs galore. And, because I go to a magnet school, everyone is strange in their own way. Everyone has something about them that they think is unique.

I'm unique, but for reasons I don't want to be. Perhaps writing a diary on my computer would be another reason.

I'm unique because I've had so many bad experiences. I haven't even told you all of them yet… Some will have to go without being said. Others I can tell you.

I had to go from one country to another. I knew English before, everyone in Japan was advised to know English so we could help out the pathetic tourists. Now I'm surrounded by people who know English. Every single one of these people speak the language that I didn't use very much.

Yes. I moved from Japan to America. I don't appreciate it very much. But, they offered my grandfather a job in protecting some old tree. So, he took up the offer. Since he has to take care of my mother and I, we had to come along as well.

I guess the move was positive. I didn't have friends back in Japan. I have a few here. They're not ones that know my past, but they're friends. I guess that's better than nothing.

No matter how close of friends or how many of them I have, I will never be able to share things with them. My dirty past. The horrible things that I was forced into. The pain that overwhelms me each time I see an American trying to speak Japanese.

People here are just evil. I have never been so defiled back home. Back home, I was home schooled. I wasn't even around the rest of the world. Perhaps they would have done the same…

I shouldn't even be saying that I was defiled. I already promised myself that I would never tell anyone about it. Not even a non-living object such as my computer. I can imagine the terror that people will undergo when the read my diary. They'll find out about what happened.

Then they'll see me for the filth I am. For the worthless being that I am. I'm so dirty. I can't even stand it. I can't even stand the idea of what had happened. I can't even type it out...

I suppose this is the perfect place to insert a change of subject. I think I'll start talking about my friends.

The first one is Sango. I just met her in freshman year. Two years of great friendship. It's amazing that we have stayed friends, through my quietness. Sango is very talkative, but I enjoy it. When people are talkative, then it requires less of my voice. Of course, they don't get that, but...

Sango was brought into the group that I eat with at lunch. Our friend, Inuyasha, introduced us. He had taken a liking to her because they had a lot in common. But Sango made it loud and clear that she wanted nothing romantic to come out of it. She had her heart set on someone else.

I don't think Inuyasha even has feelings for her...

Sango likes Miroku, and she never fails to let it show. She will flirt with him casually. She isn't one of those girls who flirts so boldly that you feel like they should be having sex in the hall. If she were one of those girls, I think I would kill over and die.

Miroku joined our group because he knows sign language. No one else does, and he's the only one who can actually translate what I'm saying with the least amount of confusion.

I think that I've failed to reveal this one piece of information. I don't talk. I haven't talked since the eigth grade. No one knows why. Nobody but me understands. I won't let anyone else know.

That is why I stopped talking. My mother had patronized me for the last time. I could not handle the temptation of telling people what had happened. So, I removed the only way for me to tell them. I removed the factor of my voice.

My mother worried over me. But, because I could not tell her anything, she requested my grandfather to pry me for information. He asked if I was willing to tell him what happened, and I shook my head. So, he dropped it. I love my grandfather for the fact that he will not push me into anything. He respects me.

That is something my mother seriously needs to start doing.

My grandfather took me to the doctor, just in case I had undergone some physical changes that would make me lose my voice. The doctor also had a degree in therapy. Made for quite the interesting visit.

My grandfather was informed that I just refused to talk. That I could if I intended to. Then my grandfather was forced to leave the room. The doctor used his psycology degree to try to force anything from my mind. After getting sick of everything he was trying to get me to say, I flipped him off.

I have never been to that doctor again. Vicotry for me.

It has been five years since anyone has heard my voice. I will only speak when I know that no one could possibly hear me. When the house is empty, I will turn on my radio as loud as it will get. I will sing to it, and no one will hear me. That is all I will do.

Of course, the house has only been empty twice in the four years we have lived in America. It is rather hard to take my mother out in public. She dosen't recognize that there is a world outside of her mumbling. She often bumps into people and doesn't apologize, which makes them deem her as rude.

Even though I hate my mother for what she had done to me, I defend her. People have wanted to beat her up before, and I have defended her. These times that I have taken an ass-kicking for her, she has come into reality. She will care for me for a few days. Then, when I am healthy again, she slips back into her own world.

I'm digressing again, aren't I? Please forgive me. I tend to go off on a tangent when I think of my family matters. Why am I apologizing to a diary? Damn. I thought that referring to it like it was human was bad enough...

Back to talking about my friends. Wow. I really digressed a lot, didn't I?

Miroku is a slight pervert. He has eyes for Sango, only, though. Before Sango was so open about flirting with Miroku, he had asked me about how to win her attention. I told him to check out other women and try the jealousy card. It worked. Sango flirted with him increasingly over time. But, he's a pervert still. He groped other women to get Sango jealous. He never got out of the habit...

I think he might ask her to go out soon. I think she'd accept, too. But, what do I know? I can't talk to people and get their insight on things.

Being silent is agonizing a lot of times. I get picked on quite often because I'm quiet. Everyone in high school thinks that I'm just mute. My close friends believe that, but at least they don't pick on me for it.

No one went to my middle school. You see, after eigth grade, my grandfather got the job offer to work at the shrine. Before that, he had been working at some museum... He loved it, but the shine deal offered more money; which he needed to take care of my mother and I. It also offered more of a chance for him to get closer to the visitors.

He loves this much more, though. Working at the shrine means that he is gone most of the day. It doesn't really bother my mother, and I'm at school when he's working... My mother is locked in the room with anything that isn't considered harmless. We have a nurse come and help her eat her meals when we're not there.

The nurse knows me. She speaks to me occasionally. But, because I don't talk, the conversations don't last more than her attention span. She has the attention span of a goldfish, I swear. She can start the sentence and be talking about my mother. Within the time it takes me to blink an eye, she has started talking about food and how much she hates Spaghetti.

I need something else to talk about, that way I don't have to explain it in later diary entries. Who knows what will happen each day. The most meaningful diary entry I can possibly produce would say. I talked. But you and I know that won't happen.

Let's see. I'll talk more about Inuyasha. I haven't described him at all. Inuyasha is a normal human, like everyone else at school. The only difference is his hair. My good God. His hair...

It's a bit longer than mine; and mine goes to my waist! It's pure white, and he didn't even dye it that color. That makes me happier because it means that he's hot naturally. If he had black hair like Miroku, then I think he would be a lot less hot.

You didn't just hear that from me. I really hope no one finds out the name of this folder. I would hate for someone to know that I like my friend. Miroku has noticed that I sign language hints of liking Inuyasha. He asked me, and I replied that I didn't know what he was talking about. So, he said that he wouldn't tell Inuyasha that I liked him.

I don't know how he figured it out. Perhaps me playing clueless was a clue... I don't care, though. I don't have a desire of asking Miroku the question. If I do, the it will reveal that I do like him, which Miroku isn't supposed to know for certain.

Ahh! I didn't finish telling you about how Inuyasha got white hair! I'm such a loser! I have the attention span of a horse...

Did I just call myself a horse? No, I didn't... Okay, back on topic here.

Inuyasha's father had signed up to be open to an experiment. The chemical (or whatever it was) turned his hair white. Then, when he had his two kids, they both has silver hair... Of course, despite their different mothers, they look near identical.

If Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha's half-brother, started showing emotion and loving food more loudly, then I would mistake Sesshoumaru for Inuyasha. But, Sesshoumaru is very conservative. He hardly ever shows emotion. A lot of the girls at the high school like him. He's like royalty. He gets to school and people start taking pictures of Sesshoumaru's mood.

It's kind of funny, sometimes. I saw some girls going over pictures of Sesshoumaru. He is the Lord of Ice. He won't show emotion even if you cut off his left arm. Girls will start flipping through his pictures and the only thing that changes is his attire. They will say 'He was really angry when I got a close up.' or 'He was so happy that I nearly fainted!'

Girls at high school seem to be machines that giggle and swoon. I am so glad that not all the girls in our school are like that. Of course, they are only that way because the boys in our high school are all jocks and compete for attention. It reminds me of watching the animal planet.

The men fight to impress the women. The women who are impressed will then mate with the men. Then they have families. Then, when the little ones are old enough, the women will choose a different mate...

Exactly like the animal planet. In fact, with just a little bit more detail, I might be able to name the species of animal people are imitating!

O o O o O o O o O oO

If you knew that everything was a lie, then you would know the worst of it all. Because I can't tell you, you have to get it on your own. Because my pain is the perfect delight used for my demise…

O o O o O o O o O o O

Figure out the underlining message in the sentence above. If you can give it to me, then I will list your name. People who get it will get nothing, other than the extra knowledge earlier in the story and knowing more about me…

Keep looking. The message is in there, and I already gave you a hint in finding it…

I know I'm posting two stories at once. I generally don't like doing that. But, About to Break has all the chapters pre-written. This one will be done free-form. That means that I'm just going with any idea that randomly comes to mind and I'm posting the chapters as soon as I'm done and I have the reviews...

Next Chapter: Taunting
Reviews Needed: 10

- Lonely Bird