November 1st

Chapter Eight

Sidonia and I make our way to her house, joking around as per usual. Walking home with her makes me realize just how much better it is to be out and about, instead of worrying about my 18th birthday and reading a horrific diary. As Sidonia opens the front door to her house, I glance up to study the exterior of her house. Did it change? I ask myself. Is it newer? Or am I not realizing just how long it's been since I came here?

After dropping both of our school bags onto an empty chair, my best friend and I make our way over to the much larger sofa. The two of us sit down, and Sidonia asks me, "Are you ready at all..?"

Taken aback slightly, I replay the question in my head a few times before slowly shaking my head no.

"Not really," I admit softly. "I've never been 'ready'. And I sure as heck am not now. Not when I have a few hours left."

"...Do you think you'll ever get used to repeating?" she then asks, looking at me.

I sigh, "I'll have to, won't I? But..." I pause, looking down at my hands. "...I really don't want to repeat..." I whisper quietly.

"Neither do I," Sidonia says, causing me to lift my head up in surprise. Smiling wearily, she adds, "Being younger doesn't mean that I have more days of freedom... being younger just mean that I have to bear with the pain of watching more and more people that I know start repeating until I do it myself..." Her voice cracks as she says, "I don't want to... I'm scared..."

"Me too..." I say. "Me too..."

The atmosphere hangs with a tense silence, both of us just staring at the ground.

After a few minutes, Sidonia asks me, "Can I see your book? The one about family?"

Nodding, I hand it over to her. Was I going to regret what I just did? I was going to find out then.

"It's been seven years..." she says softly. "...Since I wrote in this. I was eleven."

I straighten up considerably, shock clearly written across my face. Even still, my raw sympathy for her takes over instantaneously. "So you really...?" My voice breaks off, and I swallow. "...you really killed..." My voice fails again, and this time, I don't bother with trying again.

Sidonia takes a moment... and then nods. "He killed her," she says. "My father made her turn to dust... To think, that it was the same day that I had asked to walk alone to school..." Her voice falters, so she clears her throat. "...My mom usually brought me to school back then."

I place a hand on her shoulder. "You were crying," I choke out, recalling the tear stains on the paper. "Over your mother's death... When did you write it?"

"Right after I read what my father did..." Sidonia suddenly tears a small corner of a page out, crumpling it up between her index finger and her thumb. "That maggot of a father deserved to die."

Even still, tears fall down her cheeks. Tears mourning her mother.

And her eyes hold the darkest and purest form of hatred I've ever seen. Hatred surrounding every single memory of her father that should've died a long time ago.

"How did you kill him..?" I ask.

"Did the same thing that devil did to me," Sidonia explains. "Made him age. Apparently, that stressed his heart out too much, and he died from a heart attack." She holds the book tightly in her hand. "I didn't even bother calling anyone."

She opens the book, flipping through the pages until she sees the page that looks blank. "There were so many tear stains," I admit. "that I couldn't even read a word from it... What did it say?"

"I was describing my father's death," Sidonia says without hesitation. "I didn't leave any detail out. How blood poured from his ears and mouth, how he flopped about on the ground, trying to reach the phone to call someone. I kicked the phone away, still writing in the book," she recalls, staring absentmindedly at the wall. "I was crying, and I don't know why," Sidonia remarks. "I didn't feel any remorse, nor do I now. So what is it..?" Now, tears are falling down her cheek in waterfalls, and she sits down again, covering her face with her hands so she can muffle her sobs.

"You loved him," I say, sighing as I sit down next to her. "He comforted you after making you hate your mom. You were vulnerable. You let him in. You loved him."

"Why, though?" she asks, her voice breaking. "Why did I have to love the only family member in my screwed up life?" Sidonia suddenly throws the book against the wall in front of us, angrily watching as loose pages rip from the bind and flutter to the ground. The actual book follows with a thud, and Sidonia angrily falls back onto the sofa once more. "I hate repeating!" she shouts, running her hands through her hair like I did when I had my emotional breakdowns.

But this time, Sidonia wouldn't be breaking down alone like I did.

Turning to me, she holds my hands. "Please don't repeat!" she pleads. "Please... please..!"

My eyes widen. Was this her version of breaking down? Or was this a broken girl pleading to keep the one thing she doesn't want to die? Shaking my head to snap back to reality, I process everything that's happened. "I wasn't going to," I tell her. "Not at all."

More tears fall down Sidonia's face. "So tomorrow..?"

I nod. "I'm not repeating."

I'm not repeating, I tell myself. I mentally scoff. Who knew that just making that one decision could be so... so... weightlifting..?

I do.