Nobody saw the little girl die in the apartment above the man who she was supposed to be watching. One minute she was dancing around, pretending she was a princess ballerina in her cute pink tutu. The next moment she was lying on the floor, eyes bugging out of her skull as her heart ceased to function.
Nobody saw her father come in, saw him shuffle into the kitchen, eyes on the bags of groceries he was holding, as he called to his cute five-year-old daughter to tell her he was home. Nobdoy saw him turn, saw him see her and run over, doing every First Aid maneuver he had ever learned, until he realized it was too late.
Nobody saw him lift her head to close her eyes, brushing his hand over her curly blond hair for the last time, saw him put her down, no tears falling. Nobody saw how he realized what had to happen.
Nobody saw him go into his office and retrieve the small handgun he had duct-taped under his desk, saw him undo the safety and cock it back, saw him stare at it transfixed liike it was his best friend. Nobody saw him smile in a tired, 'this is it' way he had never seen anyone look at anything, like he knew what he had to do.
Nobody saw the lone tear streak from his eye as he lifted the gun to the side of his head, press the muzzle into the soft skin of his temple.
Nobody saw him pull the trigger.
Nobody saw his corpse fall to the ground, hole in its head, tired half-smile still lingering on his lips.
Nobody knew they were there.
Nobody saw them.
Nobody but Natsuki.
And even though she knew these things happen, she saw it.
That night Nola would ask her if she was all right. She'd respond in the affirmative, giving a little happy smile like she did.
She would barely hear her companion call good night over the funeral dirge of her heartbeat.
And as she closed her eyes she would forget the little girl, because it was her job to pretend the world was all right.