CLICHÈ || Knb《Akashi Seijuro》

#clash no. 021

[T]hou canst not think worse of me than I do myself.

Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Human Melancholy

"No," I can see Ino scream through her eyes as she stares at me, terrified.

Leave. Don't come. Not any closer. LEAVE ME ALONE. Please.

I can clearly hear what she's trying to say, perhaps shout out loud, but is unable to.

I usually relish in this very state of my victims. Nothing but this evident fear could satiate my numb soul, make it feel something. But not today. Right now, her trembling lips, shaky hands and cowering existence reminds me of my younger self. And maybe, a little bit of me at present as well.

But why? We are so different. She's so beautiful, so pretty. Even the damage I've done couldn't take her beauty away. Even the fear she's facing now is unable to turn her rosy cheeks pale.

Then why do I feel this affinity? What is the meaning of this pitiful resemblance?

"Hey,"

She opens her mouth to speak, but a barely audible squeaky sound comes out. At this rate, she might faint. And if that happens, her father would surely understand that I am who I had denied to be.

I sit on my knees on the floor, in front of her bed. I am not good with apologies. I can offer her a thousand insincere apologies, but I don't want to. I see her as myself. I see her as the quivering little girl who had just killed her beloved parrot. I see her as the small child who still had rosy cheeks, bright eyes and a head full of dreams.

"Hey," I whisper again. "It was all an illusion. All of it." I gently take her hand into mine, and slowly lean towards her so she can hear me more clearly. "All of it. It wasn't you. It was me who was there. Me who was locked up in the cold, me who couldn't breathe. It wasn't you. You just saw it, okay?"

Her body still shakes slightly, but she looks me in the eye. She wants to believe, she wants to forget, and she's willing to grab this chance to run away from her sufferings. I know it because I can see it. I've been through this.

"You won't see me again, okay? You won't see me. And you won't remember. You might dream of me sometimes. But it's me. It is all me. Not you. You saw it happen. You saw it all. You were there from the very beginning. But you couldn't help. You feel sorry for that. But you are not scared. Because it wasn't you. It was me."

I continue to whisper until her eyelids drop, and she slowly falls into a deep, peaceful slumber. Soon, she will wake up as the girl who had just a nightmare, just how I had woken up as the kid who sold herself to the devil.