The Circle Girls

Chapter Forty Seven

The memories didn't get any easier, but neither did they become more difficult. At times, August rushed through the scenes he still couldn't stomach, but Yasuko didn't mind it. Rather, she teased him, reciting lurid poetry or singing in a low, ululating voice while a younger version of herself seduced men into bed.

He liked the estate the least, because of his sister. But after some reflection, he found himself able to enjoy those short but bright memories of Libby. It had hurt, at first, of course, but Yasuko had known his sister at her best. Laughing, playful, incredibly irreverent and highly eccentric. It was easy to pretend that Libby hadn't died, here.

"You could learn from her example." Yasuko chided good-naturedly, brushing her elbow against his.

He watched Libby dress Yasuko in borrowed clothes, grateful for how easily his sister could extend her cheer towards strangers. Yasuko had needed Libby's attention, brash and abrasive as it was, to help her cope with her mourning. Had Libby known that Yasuko was in need of tough love? Or was his sister acting upon a nebulous 'big sis' instinct that he couldn't even begin to understand? Regardless, in Yasuko's memories, Libby seemed wise and confident. Someone worthy of admiration.

It warmed him. Libby didn't have very many good traits, but what she did have deserved appreciation. If August could emulate that half of her, then he'd be happy. 

"I'm trying."

A smile flashed on Yasuko's face. "I'm trying, too, you know. I'm thinking of changing my name." She gripped his hand with hers, swinging under his arms to squeeze him around the waist. It was a brief hug, but it told him much. That she understood what he was going through, that she was applauding his strength, that she had hope that both of them would eventually recover. 

"Oh?" Before she could pull back, August wrapped both arms around her shoulders and hugged her back. Quick, short, but they were vampires now. Everything that needed to be said was communicated in an instant. "To what?"

Her eyes twinkled, pleased, "Let me think about it."

They transitioned from Libby's kitchen, following his sister's silhouette as she lectured about the dangers of sentient Thanksgiving turkeys. August was so comfortable, an arm slung loosely around Yasuko's neck, that he didn't immediately realize that they had walked into the entertainment room, where Emil and one of his companions flanked an unconscious Yasuko, slumped against the wall. 

August paused.

Across the room, Peja was strapping someone to a chair. A woman, but not Yasuko, of course. Not Sonya or Libby or anyone August recognized, actually. The woman was small, of the same size as Yasuko, but her hair was dark red, her kimono—

Yasuko stiffened, realizing the same moment he did who it was.

Peja murmured in another language, his tone telling more than actual words. He was uneasy, but Emil and the young man were certain. Determined, and grimly so. 

"Sakura?"

He grabbed hold of Yasuko's wrist, pulling her away, his stomach and instinct warning him. Don't let her look. Don't let her see!

Sakura's shoulders shook, her sobs coming in heaving gasps. Peja looked away, guilty. Emil took out a knife, and August had to grab Yasuko by the waist now, holding her back.

She clung to his arms, nails biting into his skin. "W-what are they doing?" She started to shake, her eyes wide, her voice high-pitched. "August. August! Let me—let me, no!"

Emil barked something to the blonde, who went to the version of Yasuko against the wall.

"Naihe." Sakura moaned, curling forward and choking. "Naihe."

The blonde took out a syringe, sliding the needle into Yasuko's limp arm. He waited a few seconds, jumping back with a curse when she awoke suddenly. She gasped, her chest bowing and her whole body seeming to lift up. Her teeth flared out, menacing and disproportionate in her mouth.

August felt the breath in his lungs freeze. "Fuck, no."

With the efficiency of someone who'd made peace with his decision, Emil grasped a fistful of Sakura's hair and pulled her head up. She stared sightlessly forward, shaking. He slid the knife across her front, drawing a deep red line across her collarbones. Not the throat, not to kill her. 

He was going to leave that task to Yasuko.

Blood welled, dripping down Sakura's chest. The scent of it was strong, even in the memory, and August felt his jaw ache in response. But the hunger was fleeting and not as important as the woman trembling in his arms. 

"No! No!"

August tried to hold onto her, but she kicked and scratched, struggling to get free. The memory of herself was not restrained however. That Yasuko scrabbled to her feet, eyes blank and hungry.

And Sakura's eyes cleared, just for a moment. Her arms went up, hands splayed and open. "Nee-chan," she said, "Please. Save me."

Yasuko—August's Yasuko—screamed.

"Yasuko, please, please!" He turned her around, clasping her tight to his front. Trapping her arms. "Don't look, please, Yasuko, don't look." But he was shaking, too. Terrified. For Yasuko. For himself. He clenched onto her harder, squeezing. What should he say? What should he do?

It's a memory. You can't stop it. Those were just words and excuses, though. They weren't a solution. 

Palming the back of her head, he pressed her face against his chest. He murmured noises into her hair, "Look at me. Yasuko, look at me. It's not you. Don't think about, look at me, look at me, please."

But it is her. She...holy shit, she... He clenched his eyes shut, knowing she'd feel what he did. Knowing that his shock and surprise would bounce between them, gaining velocity as it whirled back and forth. He had to be strong, lest they both succumbed. Yet...what was he supposed to do? 

He felt helpless. Worse, he felt useless.

Yasuko shook her head, over and over, her legs losing strength. He was holding up her weight now, pushing her away and for the door—escape. Find another memory. Anything. Get out of here. Now. Her sobbing wasn't enough to cover up the sound of flesh being torn. Of sobs turning into gurgles, and then into oppressive silence.

Yasuko went limp.

"Yas—shit." August swept an arm under her knees, hefting her up as he kicked open the door. His heart pounded erratically. Fix it, fix it!

He surged through the door, into the next memory. Stumbled, his arms suddenly lighter. Then stared.

Yasuko—his Yasuko—was gone.

❁

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