Prologue
The knife's handle scraped against the palm of my hand, jolting me to reality as my head snapped up. The room seemed too empty, too desolate. The bloody bags tossed haphazardly into the corner were full of limbs – arms, hands and heads. I should've gotten rid of the evidence a long time ago; necrosis and rot was starting to set in. The dismembered corpse at my feet stared up at me with its lifeless eyes, and I didn't feel anything for it at all. No sadness, no, not even a shred of pity. They had caused this. With their stupid mind games, trying to get close to the person that I admired most of all in the world. It was their heart that ultimately led them to their demise.
Despite the blank stare looking up at me, I felt a tiny chill rise up my spine.
It was as if it was...saying something.
…
Chapter One
My life wasn't something that you'd call out of the ordinary. Two of my closest friends, Yui and Ai would tell me about their misadventures on the streets after dark, spending time with boys a few years older than them; drinking, partying and playing "girlfriend." They were hostesses' at the club a few blocks away from where I lived – the Cherry Bloc. Or C.B, as we'd shorten it to. Lonely, single men would line up at the club and pay money to be entertained. Yui and Ai were mistresses of the trade; they knew all of the hidden tips and tricks of hostessing. They even tried to get me to join once! I had to refuse, of course. It just wasn't my thing, you know? I pitied the fools that wasted money on my two friends.
The money could be in the amounts of hundreds, even thousands of dollars depending on what services they provided. Hostessing was a hush hush industry – I had to keep discussions about it on the down-low. I respected them though. They worked hard after dark. I felt empty inside without anything to put my mind to – the world seemed so bland, so uninteresting. Boys at my school would confess to me their affection, but I wasn't interested. My career was all I was interested in.
Until I met her.
She filled my heart with a sickly sweet sickness.
I was addicted. I lived in a small apartment which suited me perfectly; it was quaint and cute, with cream walls and high ceilings – abstract paintings lined each inch of space. My uncle worked in the real estate business, and my parents were out of the picture. I paid my uncle rent through working at a small cafe shop during the lazy nights that would roll by – it was cheaper this way, and I liked the convenience of living by myself. One day, I was walking home from school when I saw her – a picture perfect individual with striped thigh-high stockings under a navy-blue buttoned dress; her pink hair (dyed, I presumed) ran straight down her back with little curls at the edges. She was leaning over something, and I moved closer to take a look.
There was a box near her feet, and as I inched forwards on my tiptoes, I heard yelping and whining sounds. Animals? That's when I saw a puppy reach up on its high legs, barely touching the top of the box. Clouds gathered in the sky, and the rumble of thunder seemed to startle it. The pink-haired girl looked around her left and right almost to make sure no one was watching, and as rain began to pour, she held the puppy to her chest protectively.
She walked down the road, and my heart seemed to ache after her.
Just who was she?