𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐌 | 𝐭𝐛𝐡𝐤

⊹˚.✧ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ✧.˚⊹

"𝐖𝐄'𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍; 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍."

⊹˚.✧ ☆ ✧.˚⊹

Beneath the glowing lights of both lanterns and the stars alike, two kids around the age of thirteen can be seen munching on a snack from one of the various food stalls, having pleaded with countless vendors until one had been kind enough to give them something for free. The sound of chatter from other people at the festival had long been drowned out by the two kids, the company from one another speaking louder than any words ever could. They gaze up at the moon, hand in hand, with such wonder in their eyes; because no matter how old they grew to be, they would never be too old to look at the moon.

"My mom is coming to get me soon," comes the voice of one of the kids, a girl with a soft spoken voice.

The boy standing next to her tightens his grip ever so softly, not wanting to ever let go of this simple moment. Even though the only thing on his mind was her, he still made the effort to be concerned for the young girl's mother, "How isyour mom?"

The girl wants to say that she was doing better, that she would make it to see her live her adult years, or even her teenage years, but unfortunately that was not the case. The girl shifts her lingering gaze from the giant glowing orb in the sky to her best friend, a look of hopelessness hidden deep within her vacant eyes, "She's getting worse."

"Oh," says the boy, making eye contact with the girl and rendering him unable to look away, "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

The boy can only nod in response, watching as a beautiful woman slowly and delicately makes her way through the bustling crowd, her hair messily framing her face while her big, round eyes search for her child with the same vibrance that inhabited them even prior to becoming ill. She was a sickly woman, but beautiful nonetheless.

"I should go help her..." the girl trails off, glancing at her friend before leaving to take care of her mother who really wasn't supposed to be walking on her own in the first place, "I'll see you tomorrow, Amane."

"[Name]?"

The sudden call of the girl's name causes her to stop, turning her head back to hear what her friend had to say. The boy pauses and breathes a sigh, looking away before muttering, "It's nothing."

As the girl's sickly mother announces her presence with an 'it's time to go,' the girl sends one final glance back at her friend, an expression of guilt for leaving him behind painting her pretty features. The boy always thought his friend was the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on, but that wasn't the only thing he liked about her. He liked the way her eyes would peer into his, the way her smile would brighten any space, and the way her warm hands felt in his own.

He loved her. Only regret would consume him for not confessing that day.

⊹

The moon shines down on [Name] and her mother as they navigate their way through the dark, the younger girl's hand warming up her mother's cold, clammy ones until she could be beneath the warmth of a comfy blanket. Back at the festival, Amane had asked about her mother's condition, and she told him she was getting worse. The quiet walk home gave [Name] lots of time to think, and lots of time to plan.

"Mom..."

The young girl's mother shifts her unfocused gaze to her daughter, who only stared off into the distance with a look of deep contemplation as she spoke, "Yes?"

"Will you ever get better?"

An uncomfortable silence falls upon the two, the sound of crickets chirping and footsteps filling the void. It wasn't a conversation she would have liked to have with her daughter, but it was one that needed to happen. [Name] didn't have a father, or any siblings. The rest of her family had been left behind after they moved across the country to a place that would be better for [Name] to grow up in.

[Name]'s mother squeezes the girl's hand, "I'd like to think that I'll be able to survive, but my health is declining, [Name]." The younger girl feels suffocated beneath the tense atmosphere, a simple 'okay' escaping her pouting lips. What was she even supposed to say to that? What would happen to her once her mother dies?

It was unfair.

⊹

Hours have passed since [Name] and her mother arrived at home.

Normally, both of them would be asleep, whether in their respective rooms or not, but [Name] couldn't go to sleep that night. How could she? The whole walk home, all she could think about was how she would go about living her life when her mother would eventually succumb to her illness. The silence filled walk allowed for all kinds of thoughts to cross her mind; everything from reminiscing the moments she had with her mother before she became ill, to which kitchen knife she would use to end her mother's life.

There was no arguing that [Name]'s mother was different now.

It wasn't just the way she would talk slowly as to not slur her words, or the way she would forget simple things, but it was almost as if she wasn't completely there. It was as if she was void of any sort of life.

She was suffering. That's what [Name] believed, at least.

That same night, when stars began to shine their brightest and even the crickets had gone to sleep, [Name] found herself standing at the doorway of her mother's room, taking just a moment to watch the unsteady rise and fall of her breathing chest. There used to be a time where the girl would not have to worry about her mother being able to breathe properly but, after tonight, there would be no more reason to worry.

[Name] quietly stalks up to her mother resting on her bed, kneeling down to take one final look at her. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that her mother would cease to exist in mere moments, but surely [Name] was doing her a favor, right? She was ending her suffering. She was doing the right thing!

As the young girl grips the dull kitchen knife in her sweaty palms, she can feel her heart fall at the sight of her mother's eyes opening ever so slightly, tired brown orbs finding her amidst the darkness.

"... [Name]? Are you alright?"

The girl freezes with the knife still suspended midair, and with that simple question, time had come to a standstill.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

[Name] squeezes her eyes shut. Her mother's words were making this way more difficult, but it was the young girl's job to end her misery. Maybe if she closed her eyes, the second thoughts would go away. The sound of a single tear dripping to the floor is accompanied by the sound of a crisp puncture, a sound [Name] would ever be able to forget. Not in this life, and definitely not in the next.