Confessions of a hound

0. Hera

 In the state of euphoria filled terror I could still hear my mother's last words as I held her blood dirtied body with a firm squeeze of despair. Next to her was my father who I had just murdered with his own guns.

 It has been a particularly quiet day. Suspiciously quiet and slow. It's been a year since we moved to the states, we currently reside in the Bronx, New York. I loved living in Osaka though. Before we moved, I could understand the language and now I barely get along. We moved to my dad's apartment. The stereotypical brick building with the notorious fire-stairs, smoke filled stairways and narrow corridors. Although even in the dim lights of that block laughter could be found. Rarely, it's true but that's how you knew it was honest.
My mother was a true Japanese woman. One of the quiet, subtle and stupidly naïve ones who was already broken even before I happened. Although perhaps that made her the purest soul I've ever known and I still unshakably believe this. From what I know of her past is she grew up in a village, farming to just barely get by. I still don't fully understand the start of their relationship with my father, but from what I read from her diary when she left it unattended; apparently my father was visiting the village with a group of 'dangerous looking, death smelling folks' who were lurking at any given time of the day on the locals. In the end it came to light they were smuggling and cooking meth. I would read the small leather booklet whenever she went out for a cigarette or for daily errands. Little by little I got to discover more of her. At least what my level of reading was back then in Japanese. I recall her handwriting being rushed, mushed, written with a pen that's ink was faltering, so that all made it much harder to understand. My only luck was that with the lack of education, and from the little she got her diary was fully written with hiragana, some basic kanji popping up time to time. When I got caught once reading... The only time she ever laid hands on me.


"1991 10th of July
 I was sent alone out to the fields today. It happens every so often because my mother has to watch out for grandpa. I'm getting seriously worried and I heard someone mention a funeral plan lately too. It wasn't the worst part of the day. I saw someone. Or someones. They were nothing like I've ever seen, they had dark skin, short curly hair but they were with some of the local men. I couldn't help but to stare at them from the distance, completely stopping with harvesting rice only to rudely stare. They must have noticed because one, the tallest one once turned around then after a glance they all rushed into the shed they were standing around. It was the uncle's who just passed a few days ago. What could those foreigners do in there? City people rarely come here, let alone foreigners. I couldn't help my curiosity and left the field to go and walk closer. Then mother was shouting my name, calling me.

1991 1st of August
 Those men I saw... They seem to be watching every time we're out. Especially the tall one. As if they were patrolling, reminded me of police when a tree fell on one of the grandma then they came to investigate. They did the same but as if they were guarding something.

1993 April – October
 The villagers and the black people actually get on well but I'm still not used to them even after a few years. We greet each other, they learnt our language and said some excuse of why they're here. My friends got curious, so asked them a bunch of questions the other day when they were walking around the fields. I stayed back. I'm scared of them despite everyone being so certain that they're friendly.

 I heard a rumour that they might do something illegal and maybe even the yakuza is part of it. Would explain the patrolling?

 Everyone in the community start to get more cautious since we saw a man arriving with an expensive ride. Noone in our area could have that money and allegedly seemed like an important person. He was a Japanese one surrounded by what seemed to be guards. I didn't see him, Hanako did.

 I can't find Hanako. I asked around, but I heard not even her parents saw her for two days now and they're worrying a lot. I am too since she's my best friend.

 I found out the tall one's name, it's Benjamin. He calls himself Ben and told some people about a job opportunity that could bring good money. I'm still wary of the foreigners, the men of the village got on good terms with them and I can see them packing something from time to time behind that shed. Everyone tells me they're safe, but with my mother we know they're not. One of my girlfriends told me about that job they were mentioning earlier. It's only for girls... I think I might know what it's about.

 Ben was following me for a few days around when I was doing errands, and today he actually asked my name. He's much taller and bigger than I saw him from afar. His accent is funny but the gossips were true, they know how to communicate. I dared to ask him about Hanako and he looked surprised, as if surprised I didn't know already. 'She accepted the job we're offering. We told her about it earlier and she's already living in the city. She had to leave quickly I know but she wanted it that way.'

 I shouldn't do it, but now that grandpa is no longer with us, we have less income than ever. Weather is getting cold. I have to help out, mom can't handle it and it's not like relatives would want to help. They still haven't made up with my part of the family.

I went to find Benjamin.
 That nigh I found Hanako. I walked on a long abandoned path in the forest to first clear my head, get an idea of what to say to him then there she was. I can't describe when I realized what I'm seeing. There she was hanging not that far from the path I was walking on, hidden by thick trees and I wish I didn't lift my head at all because then I wouldn't have seen it. Someone was running towards me and by the time I could react Ben was pointing a gun at me. I whispered 'I want the job, please, please, I'm not telling anyone, I need the money, I don't care about anything else, please!'. The first time I saw a gun. And a dead body too. I got so nauseous I felt myself slowly blacking out.
Then I woke up in a small room. I don't know if I dare even write down what happened. Ben said I'm good for the job and I'm starting with the night. The night I lost my virginity to Ben was shared with the first time being at gunpoint and seeing death.

September
 That night turned into those nights. I can't possibly write down what happens. It hurts so many times. I told mother I got a job as a waitress in the next small town. She's so happy for me.


1995 January
 They're thankful, but I can't help the feeling of guilt because of this lie I'm keeping up. I'm selling my own body for godness sake! I can barely cover the bruises also. I wish I could disappear. Ben regularly visits me when I'm at work with the other girls. He's different towards me. Brings me gifts and looks at me a certain way. Could it be...?

July
 I've been having morning sickness since two weeks after Ben visited me the last time. He's accounting this business on his own, probably needed some relief from the stress. Turns out it's all a side hustle and what are the men are packing and shipping are drugs. I knew they're dangerous from the start! Are we in danger too? Will the yakuza turn on us eventually? I'm scared and the girls are too. I eavesdropped once on Ben and his men. They were mentioning some kind of 'Isaac' and some other American names along with incredible amounts of money and even more shady topics. I couldn't listen much, but are they really a mob? Or a mafia working with the yakuza? Too scary. Too much. I have to flee somewhere.

August
 I missed my period. I told mother. Told her everything from the start. All she cared about if I knew who's it from and I nodded. He is the only one not wearing any protection. Told us it's too complicated to get contraception here in the country so he can't be bothered. We're too poor to afford it. I told Ben about the news and he wasn't thrilled as expected but ordered me to pack all my belongings. "

 Just as I read the last words of the diary log from August she stepped into the kitchen holding her cigarette. That was the last time I could read from that ever again. I dropped the booklet as she walked closer. Then there she was lifting up her right hand only to strike it down on her then 13-year-old, oh so beloved son, putting out her cigarette on my skin. It smelled like burnt hair around us then she held my arm so firmly that her fingernails dug - what felt like - under my skin. Yanked me towards the fireplace and told me strictly to throw the diary into the fire. I looked at the raging flames then back at her as she was handing it to me. She wouldn't let me go until I did it. How stupid, as if her hopeless past would be less dreadful. As if I would forget she became a prostitute. But you know, I don't blame her, I possibly couldn't even at that young of an age. I amenably – with seconds of hesitation – threw her old self into the fire.