floor burns | hxh

vi. SLAUGHTER

屠殺

The rain dips in heavy droplets, soaking her small figure as she runs. Her shoes skid on the ground and she almost trips over her wet laces but continues onward relentlessly. The shabby buildings she passes without a second glance are empty and lifeless. Not a single window is illuminated with the yellowish light she has come to associate with cheap electrical bulbs. The street is deserted and a tiny sense of relief fills her at the discovery but it is all too soon blotted out by the familiar dread.

She sees the soft glow of old, yellowed bulbs reflected on the bricks at the end of the alleyway and her feet momentarily stutter in their rhythm, pausing. Much later she will curse her weakness, the hesitation in her mind that began at her first time and grows larger and larger with each bullet fired until eventually she really does pause at the trigger. Her doubt here and now will cost her life in some distant future but at four years old, running through the rain with soaking hair and a gun concealed in her pocket, she does not care. She does not realise the amount of pain her hesitation will cause.

She comes to halt at the end of the street, this time her stop decisive and planned rather than hesitant. It was decided long ago that she must pause here and watch from behind the safety of the thick stone wall, waiting for the moment of opportunity to present itself. Her mind travels back to an afternoon weeks ago in a hotel room filled with bright light and flowery curtains. It was Miss Abaki's and her somewhat secret hide-a-way, not much of a success seeing as the entire floor knew of their presence.

The important thing is that no one will disturb them there as they are too terrified.

But now her caregiver will not poke her pretty little head around the door and ask her what she is doing. She'll no longer hug her or tickle-rub her back when her father leaves for whoever knows how long. She's dead.

Now, standing in the dark street chilled to the bone as another icy gust of wind drives through her Sakiko is reminded of the question that led her to be here, huddling against a wall with fingers fumbling to open her jacket pocket and pull out the revolver.

"Stop being a brat," Hisoka's eyes are leaned away without empathy and remorse, "Don't you want to make me proud, Little Miss?"

Her answer is a moment too late in coming, her pause a little too long but her voice is strong and proud, "Yes." But she's trembling in fear of the outcome if she had said no.

His eyes glimmer in satisfaction but there is something more evil and corrupt behind the curve of his lips, and finally, he opens his mouth.

"Kill all the people who inhabit this town."

The voices from the pub drift over to her as the door is thrown open, a few drunks stumbling into the street. Their hunched figures are immediately blotted out by the blackness, the night claiming her prey all too easily. If only her own prey would hurry up, she cannot help but think as she nervously fingers the knife in her pocket.

Every moment longer she has to stand out here means one more moment in which she is caught; her dread-ridden brain manages to convince herself. Her jitters are from the cold, not the guilt she already feels weighing down on her. She wants to leave so that she will not be recognized, not because she doesn't want to do this. But she doesn't have a choice in the first place.

The rain is coming down ever harder and she wonders if he will ever show. As if drawn out by her futile, fervent wish a figure steps through the thick oak doors and out into the street. She glances around, checking one last time that everything is perfect. The street is just as empty as it was before, the drunks having all stumbled home to angry wives and dirty bedding. She can understand why they wash away their sorrows in cheap beer, but she also knows what kind of nasty bacteria can breed in a vat of alcohol. She wouldn't touch the stuff even if someone paid her.