A/N: Now, before I update my other story I wanted to post this and get it out of the way.

As always, reviews are much appreciated-! If that's not what you do, then- Well- Okay, that's cool too. Thanks for reading!

Songfic based on: Rolling Girl

The melody of the music box soothes me.

It's calm; peaceful. It could put me to sleep. It's gentle rhythm on repeat; the wonderful, and sometimes sad, chorus it produces wraps around me and tells me it's alright. It's heaven in the form of a small, compressed box. I wind it up high and wait till the sound gently unfolds, bringing forth the melodious ringing.

I close my eyes and take a deep breathe. Nothing makes a sound. None but the music box and the fan circling above me. The steady tap tap tap of it goes hand in hand with the gentle beat. It should stay this way. I wouldn't mind it; this is the most relaxed I've been in days.

Silence.

Tap tap tap.

I let go of the breathe I hadn't known was held. My emerald eyes flutter open almost reluctantly and travel to the small box on my bedside. There it stood, a little ballerina with her arms outstretched delicately and leg poised gracefully over the other, her toes pointed to the tip. She looked so small, so helpless.

And yet, don't ballerinas have a lot of strength? She may look petite; frail, even, but they still manage to hold themselves high. They take the time to learn. Years and years of practice lead to successful performances. They start out as nothing more than a kid with a dream. They bloom into the prettiest flowers ever seen. They are strong; not just physically, but their inward will too. After many times of trial and error, criticism that would make anyone feel weak in the knees, they still go on to live their dreams. They climb; the lower, the higher.

I wish I was like a ballerina.

But I'm not. And I never will be. I'm just as I look; small and defenseless. I have no strength. Not an ounce of pride in my voice as I try to speak. Even then, I can't. Try as I might, the only words I can produce out of my timid self is "I'm sorry", "It's not a problem", "It was my fault." Useless phrases uttered and respoken many times. How many years has it been since this cycle has been repeated?

Before I knew it, the box had been wound as far as it could go. When had I even grabbed it? Lost in my thoughts again, it seems. That happened quite often; trouble was never far away when I was daydreaming.

I watched as the tiny girl spun around and around. Her pink tutu flitted as she twirled, her long delicate legs never tired. She'll never fall. She'll never collapse into nothing.

Ah.

She's plastic.

I felt a pitying smile form on my face. That's how ballerinas kept up their act. They hid it. It's nothing more than a play. They spin over and over again, always bearing the hurtful scratches and bruises, but never allowing them to be shown. Of course, they'll wear over time. But they'll still keep up their brave facade.

Just like plastic.

As I stared at the twirling decoration, I felt a stab of envy. How come I couldn't do that? Suddenly, the music didn't seem so peaceful anymore. I contemplated throwing it, smashing it; anything that would stop the music, when I realized I couldn't. No matter how much I wanted to, how much I tried, I could not bring myself to smash that box. Why? I remember.

Mayu.

She had given this to me. My first friend... My beautiful, talented friend. I hated her, but I couldn't stay away. I knew all my hate was fueled on jealousy. It wasn't her fault. It was mine. And now she's gone. It should have been me, not her. She didn't deserve such a terrible fate. And to do what? Protect a weak person like me?

I'm terrible.

Even now I feel jealous of Mayu. And extreme guilt. After all she's done for me, how could I be so cruel; so selfish? I didn't want to think about it; that incident. Maybe one day one I'm strong, I'll be able to sit down with someone and tell them my feelings. How it felt to watch her disappear in that way.

Ha.

Like that day would ever arrive.

Slowly and silently, a small tear rolled down my cheek. And before I knew it, a whole waterfall came crashing down. I sobbed on my bed for what seemed like hours, clutching onto my pillow and curling up into a ball as tightly as I could. I swear that the house was shaking. As I cried, the music played on, the sounds ringing faintly in my mind. I hadn't noticed when it stopped completely. All I did was wait. For what? I don't know. Someone to save me.

Even through the tears I managed a laugh. How funny. There was no one in this small apartment but me. Me alone.

Alone.

In this entire world, that's what I was. Alone. The thought had me stop crying completely. What's the point in crying and screaming out if no one would listen? That's just silly. Something a child would do. And that's what I am; although pretending to be older and wiser was easier said than done. Even Ms. Megurine had told me: "You may look young, but your eyes portray an old soul."

Although I have seen and experienced much, I'm still naïve. A child. I keep making the same mistakes. Over and over again. No one is here to tell me it'll be okay, that I just have to find another way.

Is it lonely?

Is it sad?

How do you feel?

Wouldn't you like a friend?

My tears start to flow again and I cover my ears with a pillow. Even then, it can't block the voices in your head, can it? Of course not; they're permanent. They'll never leave me alone. The wave of thoughts crash into me again, dragging me further into the ocean than I already was.

Are you done yet?

Why are you still here?

It would be easier to give up, right?

Why are you being so-

Shut up.

The voices went silent with that single thought. If I didn't have at least a little willpower over my mind, I'd be lost already. My tensed muscles relaxed and my clenched teeth loosened considerably. I wept quietly and closed my eyes.

Before I knew it, I fell asleep.