What if it Worked?

The Night of Her Fourteenth Birthday

"Why don't you just kill yourself already? No one would care!" My childhood best friend told me. She was laughing. She was laughing while saying those words on my birthday.

I started tearing up. No one... I got up from the floor. Not caring that my skirt and tights probably had dirt on them from the floor of the school building.

The warm June air slapped me across the face as I ran out of the building. I quietly cried to myself as I walked to the bus stop. I started to climb into the bus when I heard a familiar voice.

"Are you alright dear?" I turned around, it was Mrs. Matsuda. As in Katsume Matsuda's mother. We were going to be in the same bus. Shit. She probably doesn't know about mei mei... bullying me. "Oh, hello auntie. Yes, I'm alright. How are you?" (A/N: Hopefully none of ya'll aren't confused like my friend was. In other countries people call elders or older people auntie or uncle. She is NOT her aunt!!😭) Fake smile plastered across my face as I secretively wiped the tear trails off my face. "Oh! I'm wonderful. Also, how is your mother? I haven't seen you two in ages!"

We sat down next to each other. "Oh yeah. My mom is great. We've been getting by alright." I tried to appear happy in front of the enthusiastic woman. The bus started to drive forward. It only takes five minutes to get to my stop from here. Don't have to keep the act up for too long. "That's great. Oh! Happy birthday! You're fourteen now, right?" She put up her hands as a sort of jazz hands situation that made her look like she was seven. Oh, it is my birthday. I forgot about that... "Yup! And, thank you auntie!"

The bus jolted softly beneath us, the hum of the engine a dull background to the storm raging inside me. I plastered a fake smile on my face, trying to hide the trembling in my hands, the ache in my chest. Mrs. Matsuda was chatting away, her voice warm and cheerful, but all I could hear was the pounding of my own thoughts.

Why did she have to say that? The words from my childhood friend echoed in my mind—so cruel, so unnecessary. My stomach twisted painfully, a mix of shame and anger bubbling up. I clenched my fists in my lap, trying to anchor myself, to keep the tears from spilling over again. But they fought to escape, blurring my vision just a little.

I stared out the window, watching the city blur past, each passing building a reminder of how small and invisible I felt. The warmth of June air brushed against my cheek, but it felt cold compared to the icy numbness inside. My chest tightened—this ache of wanting to disappear, to vanish from everything, even from myself.

Mrs. Matsuda's voice was still cheerful, oblivious to my inner chaos. She asked about my mom, about my birthday, about trivial things I couldn't truly process. My smile remained, fragile and strained, as I nodded and responded. Inside, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of feelings I couldn't articulate—loneliness, despair, a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, I could slip away without anyone noticing.

"Stop 249! Get off now!" The voice bellowed through the bus, people a mile away could probably hear this man. "Oh! This is my stop. Bye auntie. Nice talking to you." I stood up and dusted off my skirt. "Of course dear! See you soon Ichiko!" (A/N: I just realized I've been spelling Ichiko with a c and not a k... Oops!)

See you soon... Maybe she wouldn't see me soon... Would she be sad about it? I've known her since I was five. She might miss me... I had a lot of thoughts to be thinking on my first mile of the walk to my house from the bus stop. Until I got a notification.

Yooooo, chiko!! You still owe me money from ur mysterious convenience store tripppp! So u should send me some money, cuz we fr need an uber rn, got lost LOL. My older brother Haruto texted me. Him and my younger brother were on a trip to America. I did still owe him money from the convenience store a few weeks ago. So I reluctantly sent him ¥2,954. THX SIS!!!!😘 I hated when he used shortened versions of words. I barely ever hear from him because he's downstairs all day, and when I do it's gibberish at three in the morning when he's microwaving instant ramen. Or not even real words over text. So I decided to send a quick, 🖕 You are very lucky I'm tired, and continued walking.