It hurt.
That one part of her heart. The one she hadn't been able to shut down
completely. Hadn't been able to terminate all communication to, that
part of her mind. She unused to the pain, the worry, the hatred.
The sheer feeling of betrayal she was unused to. She had figured she
knew everything until the words had begun to constantly flood her
ears, her eyes, her soul. The computer screen reading them upon log-
in. The screen of her cell phone. The people who spoke to her. The
wind even, spoke what she already knew to be true. Of herself. Of her
best friend, Luka.
She who felt nothing kneeled on her bed, in a fetal position, wanting
to keep the painful silent sobs away. Though it was a futile battle,
she knew this, it always was. Another painful silent scream, sob,
cry- shook her chest and she inhaled deep, preparing herself for
another. The nonexistent tears she imagined she could feel on her
cheeks, this of course was impossible as her cheeks were dry, her eyes
as well. She had long ago lost the ability to create tears in that
way, to cry that way even. Often she would cry to her mother, forcing
out shouts of her anger and sadness, not really sobs, not real crying,
but the only way she knew to release her pain. It hurt her mother, she
knew that, she often heard her mother crying when she would wander
during the nights she would go without sleep. She felt guilty, yes,
but she did it anyway, for the pleasure of causing someone else to
feel what she could not, or at least to know that she could somehow
force the woman to care that she hurt. She knew she wasn't being fair
but it didn't really matter, nothing was fair. The sooner everyone
learned that the better the world would be, in her opinion.
She sobbed again, gasping for breath, and forcing down the next,
falling to her side and cowering beneath her tower of blankets, a
useless attempt to become warm, as she still shivered. The
excruciating sobs began to subside, only occasionally rocking the
trembling girl. A colorful box of tissues sat next to her on the bed,
decorated with the butterflies that made her feel free somehow, though
pinned down and trapped at the same time. She figured that's what she
was. The box was unopened, useless, but she kept it close just
in case. You never know when you will become a normal person. She
grasped a collection of beat up black notebooks and worn folded paper
in her shaking hands and against her chest. These things, she believed
help her get through the pain, and remind her what she was aiming for.
Something she needed constant reminder of what she was going to
accomplish one day, since really, nothing was worth it anyway. But
these notes, these books, they contained the hearts and souls of her
dearest friend, and her happiness is what kept Miku going. Luka was
all that really mattered. Maybe that was abnormal. But what about Miku
wasn't abnormal at this point? She started blankly, blindly, forward. Seeing nothing of her
room, blurry shapes, broken ideas, colors. Maybe these were her
dreams, the unobtainable dreams of perfection and the invisible flawed
and broken future that awaited her. The smell of candles, a scent that
reminded her painfully of the lonely summer last, and the one that
loomed in her future, a scent to remind and keep in her shattered mind
what loneliness awaited her for the next four months.
She was pathetic. Alone. Fake. Inhuman. Without emotion. At least
unable to express it. The emotions tore at every thread of her being,
tearing her mind apart. The tearing, it caused her to be a different
person each and every time she spoke with her friends, making her
schizophrenic almost. It disgusted her but she didn't know how to make
it stop. How could you stop the destroyed bits of your mind and the
torn seams, the seams that kept people from going insane?