Mina presses her wrist into the camera harder—
like she wants the cuts to bleed through the screen,
like she needs me to feel it on my own skin.
Like she's showing me proof.
"Evidence."
That she…
really "loves" me.
What the hell…
What the hell is wrong with you?
My breath stutters.
My eyes can't look away.
No matter how much I want to.
You're…
You're insane.
A thousand thoughts sprint through my head—
but my mouth won't move.
My throat refuses to open.
It feels like my own body is choking me from the inside.
I'm stuck.
Frozen the same way I was when she pinned me down.
Cutting yourself…
Is your love?
That's bullshit.
I never asked—
I never wanted—
I never even hinted at this.
I swallow hard.
So why…
Why can't I just say that?
Why can't I say anything
when someone's life is actually on the line?
She's…
She's killing herself.
"Mina… why?"
The words escape in a whisper so soft I barely recognize my own voice.
She pulls her wrist away and fills the camera with her face—
too close,
too distorted,
her trembling eyes and twitching smile practically pressed against my screen.
"Haru," she giggles, breathy,
"I did it for my love. To show you how much you mean to me."
Her voice twists—
sweet on the surface,
rotted underneath.
Proud.
Pleased.
Like she's showing me a drawing she made.
My heart spikes.
My chest tightens.
Stop.
Stop twisting this.
Stop making this my fault.
There's a glint in her eyes as she watches my expression—
a hungry, eager glint.
Does she…
enjoy this?
Does she WANT me like this—
worthless, cornered, terrified?
A flashback slams into me—
her knee on my stomach,
her laugh in my ear,
my face wet with tears and blood
as she called it love.
My skull throbs sharply.
A stabbing pain erupts behind my eyes.
My fingers slip—
the phone falls out of my hand.
CLACK.
"Fuck—"
My hands fly to my head as the pain digs deeper, like claws carving inside my skull.
"Haru…?"
Her voice comes muffled from the floor.
Shut…
up…
"Haru…?"
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
"Haru!!"
"SHUT UP!"
My scream tears out of me raw, cracking halfway.
I drop to my knees, palms digging into my temples.
"You got me here in the first place!" My voice erupts, shaking.
"Is it your only fucking goal to make me suffer!?"
Words spill faster than thought—
"You tried to kill me! And now you're showing me THIS shit!?
Like hell I wanna see that!"
I don't pick the phone up.
I can't.
I don't want her face in my eyes right now.
My head pounds.
My ears ring.
Everything hurts.
…
Silence.
Ten seconds.
Fifteen.
Nothing.
Then—
A tiny sob.
A broken, fragile sound.
Followed by the soft click of her hanging up.
…
A wrong, heavy feeling stabs through my chest.
Sharp.
Heavy.
Burning.
Guilt.
The type you feel when your mother cries
but you wish you hadn't heard it.
The type you hate yourself for having.
It hits me again.
And again.
Tears drop onto the floor.
I don't even realize I'm crying until I hear them hit the wood.
I hate this.
Why do I always become the bad guy?
Why do I always break everything important?
I stay on my knees
crying for an hour.
It doesn't help.
The weight on my chest refuses to move.
I feel bad for hurting her feelings…
but at the same time—
I don't regret what I said.
Some tiny part of me cheers quietly,
Tiredly,
that I stood up for myself.
Did I, though…?
Did I really?
Eventually, I crawl into my bed.
No food.
No strength.
No anything.
Everything feels wrong.
Filthy.
Like I don't deserve rest.
The moment I close my eyes—
Nightmares.
Instantly.
Every blink flashes another humiliation.
Another beating.
Another memory.
I can't sleep.
I won't sleep.
Hours pass.
What time is it?
I drag my eyes toward my desk clock.
8:00 AM.
School.
Shit.
I peel myself out of bed.
My body feels like it's made of rusted metal.
In the bathroom mirror—
I look like a corpse.
Dark eye bags.
Pale skin.
Hollow eyes.
Dead and alive at the same time.
I skip everything.
No brushing.
No washing.
No fixing.
My phone sits on the floor.
Should I take it?
…
Yeah.
Just in case something worse happens.
I slide it into my pocket and head downstairs.
The smell of bacon and eggs hits me.
My parents turn—
both looking relieved.
I can't meet their eyes.
I sit down quietly.
Stare at the plate.
"Haru…"
My mom's voice.
My chest lurches violently.
Don't look.
Don't look at her.
Don't see that memory again.
I keep my eyes on my lap.
I don't eat.
I can't.
I can't look at my father either—
not after he cried for me.
Not after everything I remembered.
Everything I saw.
He doesn't deserve this.
Any of it.
I stand abruptly, grab my bag, slip into my shoes.
"Haru—" my mom starts again—
But I'm already out the door.
The walk to school feels heavier.
Thicker.
Like the air is closing in.
A constant dread sits under my ribs.
Waiting.
I reach the school gates.
I expect to see her.
Waiting for me.
Smiling too brightly.
Even though I'm terrified…
I feel like I have no choice.
I can't run.
I'm out of options.
Students laugh.
Talk.
Live like the world isn't crushing them.
I walk slower.
My heart beats faster.
I glance near the entrance—
No Mina.
I breathe for the first time today.
Locker.
Shoes.
Stairs.
Hallway.
Classroom.
Still no Mina.
Relief floods in hard.
I slip into my seat and stare at the desk.
No one notices.
Good.
The door slides open.
Someone drops into the seat next to me.
I glance—
Kurozawa.
Same irritated face.
Same sharp glare.
She catches me looking—
I look away instantly.
"…Hey, weirdo. Where were you? You disappeared."
Her tone is irritated,
but there's worry underneath she's trying to suffocate.
"I… was at the hospital," I say.
Half-lie. Half-truth.
She freezes.
"The… hospital?"
She leans in, studying me.
"What happened?"
Shit.
"I, uh… hit my head. Fell on the stairs. Passed out."
Her eyes widen, shoulders tense.
Like she wants to explode.
..
"YOU— YOU— YOU IDIOT!!"
She explodes loud enough the whole class freezes.
Heat floods my face.
Everyone's staring.
Kurozawa doesn't care—
not at first.
Then she realizes.
Her face turns tomato-red.
Her hands tremble, and a tiny, startled sound escapes her throat.
She stared at the whole room back..
"Wh—Who are you all looking at!? STOP LOOKING AT ME—
OR— OR—"Her breath hitched, the words she really wanted to scream trapped behind her teeth.
"I'LL KICK ALL OF YOUR ASSES!" she screamed, slamming her hands onto the desk. Her face burned red.
Silence.
Everyone sits upright immediately, pretending nothing happened.
Even the ones who look like they're about to piss themselves.
Even me—
SLIDE—
The teacher walks in.
Instantly the entire class becomes saints, opening textbooks like their lives depend on it.
Even Kurozawa stiffens, fixing her hair and posture.
"Take out your books," the teacher says.
Pages flip.
Voices settle.
The lesson starts.
I stare at my desk, not hearing anything.
Then—
"…I'm glad you're okay."
A tiny whisper.
I look.
Kurozawa is turned slightly toward me,
eyes down,
cheeks red, soft.
Lips pressed tight.