an alternate universe where sayaka isn't so lucky in her fall from the tower of doors.
content warnings: death, depression, language, suicide attempt, substance abuse
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𝒓𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒎𝒊
As much as I disliked Manyuda-san's arrogant nature and self-centered motives, I had to agree with him.
Kirari had seemed more distant, more dazed lately. Had she arrived at this only because of myself neglecting to realize how deeply hurt she was? How could I not notice?
For the first time in my life, I couldn't understand how my twin sister felt. We often were telepathic, deciphering each others' expressions as quick as a flash. Completely understanding each others' emotions, thoughts, everything. We were two halves of the same whole, from the very beginning of our lives and would until the very end.
But that seemed to shift ever since... it happened.
And I did know how deeply my sister cared about Sayaka. She... loved her. Just as Sayaka loved her back. Just I loved Mary. Just as she, hopefully, loved me.
But this method of coping needed to stop. It would only get worse. I wish... she would just talk to me. Please, Kirari. Just tell me.
Maybe I don't understand, we all feel alone in our pain. But I want to help you through this. It's... my job. Please just talk to me about it.
"I... need to go to the bathroom." I stood up stiffly, my fluffy pink robe cascading down my body. Kirari nodded in response.
We were sitting on our beds in our room that night, myself reading a book from a yuri manga series and Kirari painting her nails. We were dressed in our nightwear and wore our hair down and masks off.
Times like that felt liberating.
I closed the door behind me, pressing my hands and back against it in relief. 'Good, this will buy me some time.' I thought, narrowing my eyes in determination.
I glanced at our mirror, which doubled as a cabinet. Gulping, I opened the door very slowly as to not arouse suspicion. But even if my twin heard, she knew I kept my anti-anxiety medication in there, anyways.
I peered at the labels carefully. Some read anti-allergy, some read for anti-itch. But then it caught my eye.
The bronze flask we would drink from on special occasions. The elders were extremely strict about us drinking, but Kirari snuck some for us to have.
And next to it? A half-empty bottle of Vicodin.
Both pills and alcohol? Kirari, it's worst than I thought. I had watched enough angsty teenage films to know booze and painkillers together are devastating.
I grabbed the bottle and flask and stuffed them into my robe pocket. Afterwards, I flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet for a few seconds for good measure.
About ten minutes later, Kirari closed her nail polish slowly. She placed the bottle on her nightstand, and turned her head. She blankly gazed at the wall for a moment, and then stood up. "I.... think I'm going to do a face mask." She stated blandly.
A face mask. Sure.
I nodded as a reply, flipping the page in my manga. Watching her intently as she went into the bathroom, I quickly slipped the pill bottle and flask out of my pocket and slid both into one of my clothing drawers, hidden underneath a light blue sundress and a pair of black socks. It was such a random place, she would never think to look there.
I'm sorry, Kirari, that I'm taking away your coping methods. Please forgive me. It's for the best, my imouto.
