Sakura
Author's Note: Be forewarned that this fic contains references to suicide. Enjoy the story and R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Silent Hill series.
Summary:
Her art lives on.
find it
find it
you cant leave til you find it
In the Villa.
The studio.
Me and my mom's creaking, roach-infested living room.
Don't you DARE go outside
School?
That other school.
You get what you deserve.
The sticky notes flutter on the walls, pixels on a phone. Cherry blossoms. They're mouths. They talk trash. They chirp. They throw insult after insult. The sound of lips flapping harmfully.
The sound of pipes dripping in Kettenstadt, the town cursed by a witch.
fuck
She is trapped by their familiar words. Their shadows chasing her behind smoke's anonymity. She doesn't know them. Can't attach faces to them. But in the fog of social media, they've concluded they know her. They've signed their signatures on her, sketching out who she is. Who she should be.
With malice, they painted her into a corner. Broad strokes.
Who Maya was. Who Maya couldn't be.
Singled her out, identifying her while they were the lineup.
Locked her in.
Looking with paper bags over their heads so they don't have to look at themselves. The monsters they are, to anyone different.
Maya didn't see me…I was invisible to her…
But she was invisible to me too. I blinded myself, to the writing on the wall. How was I supposed to know she'd jump?
She was taking Amelie from me. My fingerprints are all over this.
The hidden side of girls, passionate and pink, splattered black.
Blood drying on the canvas of the bathtub.
Petals won't open.
Only when a skull explodes upon impacting the ground does what's hiding inside blossom. True beauty, from fleeting life.
Maya's memorial.
The flowery language they abuse to ridicule her.
Stupid. Bitch. Ugly. Crazy. Slut. Freak. Whore. Loser.
Their curses are darts, red dislikes outnumbering the green likes.
They sound like my mom.
Followers follow.
They follow and like.
The follow and dislike.
They followed to crucify the witch.
I follow the faults forgotten. The cracks on the roof from Maya's memorial, then off the building.
I've been here, doing this. Maybe it'll stop once I learn.
"I finished it, so it's all yours."
That book.
The masterpiece.
The short message.
For those I love, and for those who love me…
