Overtime

Bag of Bones

I think the only reason I'm alive is because of that little variety pack I got at that cafe. It was the only thing I was able to keep down for the past two weeks and now I'm completely out. I don't know how my body rejects an apple but will gladly take a piece of chocolate. A mystery that I'll never understand.

I still don't have an appetite but I had grown to look forward to those little daily treats. I feel their absence and it pisses me off because that means I either have to force myself to eat something else, eat nothing at all or go back to the cafe. I groan at the thought of having to leave my confinements, I pull my pillow over my head, and for a moment I'm tempted to hold it there for an extended amount of time.

"Did you know that sweets make your brain stronger?"

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No! It's true! People who play chess and shogi eat sugar to make their brain smarter, it's facts! I swear!"

I try to hold back the tears that begin to form as I hear his voice, so full of innocence and genuine confidence in the words spoken. I press my pillow into my face at the memory of Suguru teaching me something that added so much value to my life. I don't think I ever thanked him. It made me value myself and it gave me a piece of confidence that I never had before. I was being pushed around by the older kids in our foster home because I enjoyed sweet foods. I'm not sure why it was a big deal, but it was for the other kids. I even played with the little bakery oven they had, which had an unspoken agreement that only girls were allowed to play with it. So when I did, it was taboo and it justified their bullying to an extreme that landed me with a few cuts and bruises. I fought them, or at least I tried with my frail limbs, but whenever I responded to their abuse it would reward me with a few lashings from my caretaker. Either way, I would lose.

Suguru was the only one to defend me.

He was always the one to defend me.

I hear the whine build in my throat so I press the pillow even more as if it's going to stop the sound from passing my lips. I feel the need for air build in my chest, but I make no effort to release the pressure. It almost feels good to deprive my body of oxygen. It's like there's a moment of adrenaline that begins to course through that momentarily convinces me that this is a good thing, that this is something that is a solution to all of my problems. My lungs are starting to beg me to give them what they need and I want to deny them.

I want to fall into a deep sleep.

But of course, for some reason, the universe has other plans. I flutter my eyes open as the pillow is ripped out of my grip. There's a part of me that is happy it happened but there was also an overwhelming pit of anger that forms at the base of my stomach. As if I had been robbed of everlasting peace.

I knew just how wrong I am when I stare up into Shoko's fury-filled eyes. Her anger is justified and I don't blame her. I'm being incredibly selfish and I know my actions are hurting her, but I don't know how else to cope. The saying, Hurt People Hurt People, has become my new personal mantra because of its truth. When you're in pain all you want is for someone to tell you 'I know what that pain feels like', but it's irrational. We all experience pain in different ways, so no one will truly understand because you are the only one having your experience. We all experience pain in solace no matter how many people surround us and tell us that they can relate to it. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

I barely hear the words that come out of her mouth because it's barely a whisper volume, but when it registers I physically feel my heart shatter into pieces.

"You can't die on me."

I look at her for what feels like the first time in over a year and I see my pain reflected back onto me. I feel so stupid and so selfish for the behavior that I so eagerly welcomed. It's like I don't even understand who I am anymore.