Ever since Ayanokouji Kiyotaka had been a child, he played a lot of chess. From grandmasters to engines, he beat them all time and time again.
There was no person or program in the White Room or anywhere else that could hold a candle to him. Then so...
Remnants of hot water dripped down my bare skin after I turned the shower control to its default position. Faint squelching sounds reached my ears as I took two small steps towards the moist door handle. I opened the misty stall panel in order to snatch the white bath sheet I had hung over the cold, metallic rack outside and heaved a sigh.
A chilly breeze crept up my skin, causing goosebumps to form.
My whole body shivered before I began to dry myself off.
The soft, comfortable towel slid along my fair skin as I rubbed my back and upper body to regain some of the warmth I had lost as soon as I turned off the shower. I swabbed my stomach and finished up with my slender arms and legs, which were the least affected by the cold, numbing sensation.
Multiple muffled squashing sounds rang through the bathroom as I trudged towards the foggy mirror. My eyes focused on the blurry, unrecognizable reflection that was disrupted by beads of water that dribbled along the steamed up glass, the frame and even the smooth white walls which spun around me.
How often had I thought about smashing it into pieces?
An uncomfortable squeak followed my trembling fingers, which drifted along the misty panel, revealing my despondent expression. The queasy frown on my face deepened and turned into disgust as I peered along my torso.
My weight shifted forward as I propped myself against the sink.
The miserable weakness in my arms and knees was neither caused by the heat in the bathroom, nor that I had showered with hot water for such a prolonged period. It was induced by my own reflection and the following revolting memories that made my insides squirm like worms, bugs or other abominable vermin as a dizzy, nauseating feeling spread through every fiber of my being.
This brief vulnerability was followed by awful retching noises, which were accompanied by a repugnant stench that invaded my nose — a constant reminder of the things I wanted, yet couldn't forget. Heavy, putrid breaths escaped my quivering mouth as threads of fresh vomit dangled off my pale lips.
"Haaa..."
Even after all this time, nothing had changed.
Neither the past, nor I.
My unsteady fingers reached for the faucet and pushed against the handle various times until I managed to apply enough force for the water to flow from the spout. I rinsed my mouth to get rid of this nasty, lingering taste, which I should have grown accustomed to by now.
A dejected, belittling laugh slipped my lips as I stared at my own shadow that kept making fun of my weak, pitiful self with the same mocking expressions that adorned my face.
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
This thought alone demonstrated how broken I was when I didn't mime the lively, cheerful girl. Despite my dearest wishes, there was no way to revive the parts that had died a long time ago.
