The Truth About the Girl With the Broken Smile [Ouran Host Club] (Editing)

And So Our Story Begins

“Haruhi? Indie?” Tamaki pushed the doors open to stare us down. We were both crying, shaking. He looked at us confused. “What did I miss?”

                “Nothing.” I said, wiping my face. He didn’t look so sure.

                “Give us a minute?” Haruhi asked, clasping my hand with hers. “I still have some questions.” She whispered. I nodded. I was tired of fighting, I was ready to let her know everything.

                “Yeah, sure.” Tamaki said awkwardly. We both watched as he silently snapped the door back into place. Once gone, Haruhi turned her attention back to me.

                “I know I’m asking a lot, but how’d you get that scar around your neck?” She murmured. Her voice faded into the back of my mind washing up unwanted memories. I lowered my head, feeling the tears springing back to my eyes.

                “My friend had a dark secret, one I still don’t understand.” I whispered. “He was the weird kid no one understood. He had very few friends who never tried to be anything more than that, but then I came along and changed everything.” I cracked a faint smile. “He was a great guy, deep down. Sweet as can be, he showered me in his attention. And after the phone call about my mother, I needed all the attention I could get.”

                I sighed. Goosebumps sprang to my arms and spread to my legs. My insides clamped up. Haruhi clasped my hands, trying to show she was there for me.

                “You don’t have to continue.” She said, but I knew she was dying to know. I placed my hand on top of hers and grinned.

                “He was a serial killer.” Just like that, I said it. She froze.

                “A…what?”

                I nodded. “He grew up on the streets and had to fight to survive. Somehow, he managed to work his way up in society. He was absolutely brilliant, too smart for his own good. He had me fooled.”

                “How old was he?” She asked. I shrugged.

                “Two years older than me, so seventeen at the time. A minor.”

                “Wow, so young.”

                I pressed my lips into a fine line. That’s exactly what I thought.

                “So, then what?” She asked sliding closer. Was she enjoying this? “Did he try to kill you?”

                I slowly shook my head no. “I lived with him for almost a week. He was always so good to me, you know? Doting over me, talking to me, making sure I was happy. He was almost too good to me. We’d stay up even when I know he was tired, just talking and laughing. We’d play games and joke around. We were closer than close, but…” I paused, scanning the room, hoping no one was listening. “I found blood. He was very careful, but our arrangement was he’d work, I’d cook and clean. He slipped up, and I found a massive amount of blood on his ‘work’ clothes. I didn’t want to believe it. I told myself he went out hunting, and that’s where the blood came from. But he wasn’t a hunter.

                “I called Ryley, crying. But Ryley was in Japan at the time working as an intern for our father. There wasn’t much he could do, but he stressed that I needed to talk to him about it. Or at the very least, call the police.”

                “So did you?” Haruhi asked. She was practically on top of me, her grip on my hand deadly. It was hard to breathe, and even harder to speak. Tears rolled down my cheeks as the memory replayed. I nodded.