Lettuce opened the door to her apartment, letting it swing shut behind her. She bit her lip, trying not to cry.
The kitchen door was open. Lettuce walked in, surveying it for the millionth time. It looked cold and impersonal. The cabinets with their glass fronts were slightly off track and warped from age. The lighting was dim, and caused the mint green walls to look darker and the entire kitchen to look smaller. The one window overlooked a cement patio, which Lettuce never used.
All in all, it was a miserable room.
'But I am a miserable person. We match. We are both perfectly flawed.'
Lettuce walked over to the block of wood where she kept her knives. Pulling out the sharpest one, she studied it for a moment, before picking out it's sheath with careful precision. Then, she walked through the kitchen, back into the hallway.
When she reached her room, she kicked the door open, revealing another room. This one was more personal, though. The walls were a pretty lavender, and so was the bedspread. The bookshelf was weighted down from all the books that rested on them. A poster was on the wall of a famous composer Lettuce admired. Now, she didn't even glance it's way.
Her closet was her safe place. Lettuce went in there, she was perfectly safe. Nothing could find her. It was her alone time.
'Just me and my failure.'
Ever since Ichigo and Masaya had become a serious couple, Lettuce had envied them. What was it like to have a shoulder to cry on? Lettuce knew she didn't have one. Ryou didn't care. He'd leave her crying in an instant.
The closet door opened, and Lettuce turned on the desk light that sat at it's entrance. the closer immediately became bright. Lettuce found her usual seat against the wall opposite the door. She didn't even try to think about the blade until she sat down. Then, she pulled it out of her back pocket.
Lettuce's reflection stared at her sadly. Lettuce couldn't bear it. She turned the knife so she couldn't see herself, and then raised her wrist.
She had to choose the exact spot before she cut. The blade traveled around Lettuce's wrist, looking for the place where it would bite into her raw flesh. Finally, Lettuce found one. With expert precision, she let the blade slice through her skin. For one second, her reflection stared up at her. Then, nothing. Nothing but the crimson blood trickling down her arm.
'when did it come to this?'
When had Lettuce's love begun to cause her such horrible pain? When had her parents become much too distant? When had her friends become wrapped up in their own worlds? When? Was there even a time? If so, Lettuce mused, then it must be cursed just because of all her pain.
Would Ryou come and save her? Would he pick her up and carry her off? No. Lettuce supposed she had always, somewhere deep inside her, known this to be a fact.
But the face of someone else appeared in her mind, although Lettuce wasn't sure why. It was Pai. He had been visiting earth more, since the battle for the earth had stopped. 'But he'll leave too, sooner or later.'
Lettuce knew the worst part was coming. So she sat patiently in the dark, holding her bleeding arm away from herself, so that the blood trickled onto an old magazine. 'The blood can have it. I don't want it.' She didn't bother to mask her pain. When she was alone, there was no need.
Somehow, Pai's face floated back to the surface. She saw him, standing by the pond in the park. The aliens had found a way to pull their ears in, so that they looked human.
Pai had been watching the sun set, the same thing Lettuce had wanted to do. But she didn't want to interrupt him. Not after he had helped her out last week when she dropped her favorite picture of her family in the pond. Pai had flown out and recovered it, handing it back to Lettuce.
Before she could properly thank him, though, he made an excuse to leave, smiling a small smile before teleporting off.
Sure enough, the worst part was coming. Lettuce felt a lump form in her throat. She leaned back into the wall and prayed for the floor to swallow her.
'Yes, this is far worse than the blade.'
Tears welled in Lettuce's eyes. All her pain in a bittersweet liquid form. She put her head down, pressing her face into her knees.
When the first sobs came, they racked her frail shoulders. Tears soaked through her pants, and Lettuce's throat felt like it was being consticted by a snake. She could barely breath for the gasping sobs. But this time, for some reason, her lips called upon a new name for help.
"P-Pai-Sama. Pai-sama. Pai-sama. Pai-sama. Pai-sama. Pai-sama. Pai-sama," Lettuce called brokenly.
'And this is all I'll ever have. These quiet moments of delusional pain. These little lies I tell every day. It always adds up, doesn't it? The blood is the only thing that's real now. I have nothing left for me here. Nothing but this weak flesh. Oh how I wish I could end it all.'