Chapter Text
Emptiness.
Both around her and in her. Emptiness surrounds her, consuming her very being, leaving nothing to spare but the volatile feeling of loneliness in its wake. She cannot do anything to stop it, nor will she. She does not care enough.
No light travels inside. Her room, as pitch black as the night sky can portray, is a vessel fit for someone like herself. As the blinds block out the sun, she rests in the darkness, weeping alone on her messy bed.
To her left, is a large mirror, covered by nothing but a simple white rag. She can't bear the sight of the one in the reflection- it disgusts her, puts her to shame. She bears not the look of her own face. As such, she rejects it entirely.
To her right, her desk, an incoherent mess of jumbled utensils on top of it. What was once a place to concentrate, a place to be productive, has been rendered utterly useless, leaving nothing but jumbled up pens and papers. She doesn't mind, though- she's too tired to even notice it half of the time.
Why is she like this?
She herself dare not answer that question, as she does not have the answers for it; to be more specific, she does not have the answers she wants. Having the energy to do nothing but rot in her own room, locking the doors and closing the curtains, not even having the will to look at the shiny sun outside- what has gotten into her? What made her become this?
Even she draws a blank. Nothing she does can ever solve that gaping hole in her reasoning. And thus, given how tired she was, she decided that she could wait another day.
Besides, she has nothing to look forward to anyways. She has all the time in the world to contemplate later.
As she lets herself go, she falls unto her bed, drowsiness taking over her eyes slowly collapses under the weight of her own mental torture.
The cycle repeats once more. Tiredness, despair, and eventually, a glimmer of hope that is slowly fading in the suffocating darkness. It goes on, and on, and on. She cannot break this cycle, it consumes her being down to the rotten core she believes she has.
Life has swallowed her whole, and has broken her from the inside out.
Alas, that is what we call life. It never was fair.
–
She rises awake.
Her room is still dark as ever, not a speck of sunshine passing through her curtains. Checking her alarm clock, it is currently 3 in the morning. A regular occurrence for her to be up at this time.
She can't explain it, even if she wanted to. Even her own body hasn't been kind to her, as she repeatedly stays awake during the lonely hours of the morning, where neither the sun nor the moon can give her comfort. But at this point, she's used up too much of her resolve to ask why. As far as she knows (and cares), she is awake, and she cannot sleep. As many might say in a scenario like this, deal with it.
And deal with it she does.
By laying in bed, doing nothing productive but scrolling by her phone.
Too tired to move, yet too awake to go back to sleep. A limbo of sorts, trapping her in nothing but a state of distress she knows all too well. If she can't get out of bed, but can't pass the time as well, what better to do but to indulge in addictingly repetitive social media scrolling sessions? Whatever it is, it's better than doing nothing.
Because by doing nothing is when she can think. And she does not want to think.
This is a common tactic of hers. The more she does something, the less brain power she has. And with such small brain capacity, her brain can't conjure negative thoughts, thus resulting in a quiet (yet still tiring) moment inside her scattered mind.
It is Monday. It is 3.30 in the morning.
She scrolls away, from one Instagram story to the next, wondering just when she will be able to live the life she can only glimpse and witness from a spectator's view. As each and every story reveals her 'friend's' daily activities, she silently wishes to anyone above.
When does it end?
When does the gaping silence of her mind end? When does the insufferable thoughts that her mind makes end? When does she get to live the life she wants? The life she deserves? When will it finally end, or will it not end at all?
Why must she think of all of this?
The people of her age need not to even know about what she has to go through on a daily basis. They get to experience many more emotions than she could ever hope for, how is that fair? How is any of this fair?
Life is never fair. But life shouldn't be that way. Life can be merciful.
She would like some mercy, too.
But, as she continues on her doom scrolling,
she gives up that thought- that hope,
all for another second of temporary happiness.
–
Hours have passed.
She groggily gets up from bed, her phone's battery drained away from the time she spent watching TikToks and Insta stories. Does she regret it? Not really, but does she wish for a full battery now? Absolutely.
She sighs heavily as the thought of school burdens her once more. She can feel the weight of the responsibility- just who in their right mind would like to go to school, anyway? It's a place filled with incompetent jerks, toxic gossip girls and everyone in between. Nothing good ever comes from high school, as even the people in there are intolerable to begin with.
But then again, it is her job. A responsibility is still a responsibility, no matter how boring or tiring or soul shattering it might be. That is how the gears of humanity work- they rely on nothing but jobs and tasks.
Besides, she wouldn't want to hurt her mother's feelings, no?
Yeah. Yeah, she doesn't.
With that inspiring thought, and with another big puff of air, she gets up on her feet, albeit wobbling a little. It seems that the hours she spent doom scrolling online did have a toll on her, after all.
She moved to grab her towel, and made her way to the bathroom.
As she steps along the messy floor filled with empty bottles and food packages, she notices something rather peculiar down there. Looking down, she sees a piece of paper, folded neatly into a small square.
Huh, weird. She didn't notice this last night. She didn't drop anything last night, either. Did someone slide this in?
Picking it up, she opened the paper, only to see a written letter inside. Blue ink, small writing with neat cursive.
A work of her mother, as she catches on.
'Dear Hikari,
I know things haven't been well for you, and I respect it. We both do. But it's getting concerning, even for the both of us.
You haven't gone out of your room at all last week. That alone is enough of a reason to be alert.
I know this isn't something you like to talk to us, or anyone, for that matter. That's okay, I won't budge you.
Just, make sure to wake up for school, okay? Breakfast should be at the table by the time you get down. Meet me there if you can.
Love you,
Mom'
…well.
This is unexpected.
She knew that it was bad, yes, but she didn't even think about what her parents had to feel about it all. Crap, she was so self-indulgent in her own problems that she hasn't seen them at all last week.
Guilt punches one's stomach the hardest out of any other gut-wrenching emotion.
She found that out the hard way, right then and there.
But now is not the time to dilly dally. Her mother is waiting, after all.
Showering took effort. She hasn't felt the cold touch of water on her skin in a while now, having been too tired to even care about her hygiene. After all, it was the school holidays. She had no reason to shower, as she wasn't going to step out of her room anyways during the whole week of freedom she was given.
Finally, after choosing her cleanest school clothes, she holds the handle of her room's door, bracing herself to enter the outside world once more.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
She twists the handle.