The Pages Bloom

❀1

My mouth opens as small sobs escape, and as usual no one notices. No one hears. I wish she were here, because she always noticed. She always heard. But she can't come here anymore. She can't be here anymore. In the blink of an eye, she was torn from my world, my life, and she's never coming back no matter how hard I try to reverse reality, to reverse time.

With soft whimpers, I try to plead to someone, anyone, but there's no one that will listen. She left me here, she left me alone, and I can't function alone. It's not fair. Why couldn't God take someone else? Why did He have to take her from me and leave nothing but suffering behind?

My stomach churning, tilting on a mix of nausea and numbness, I drag myself back down the hall and down the stairs this time, not bothering to turn on the lights to illuminate the darkness I'm greeted with when I reach the bottom step. It'll take more than a switch on a wall to light up anything now.

I haul myself to the kitchen, knowing full well that I haven't eaten anything all day, but I don't feel the least bit hungry. Giving me something to live when she wasn't allowed to for another second... It's just too selfish.

I pause by the kitchen table, and in the midst of lamenting, a memory from this morning flickers inside my brain. Mom was pacing around the house, flipping through emotions like they were TV channels, while Dad was in the middle of trying to organize everything as well as keep her under control—he was more or less battling two types of chaos at once.

Yuuto was the only one not falling apart, yet he acted like he simply didn't exist in our chaos-stricken world. It felt completely normal any other time, but this time it was an insult. He sat inside his room with the door cracked wide open, his headphones propped over his messy black hair while he buried his eyes into the screen of his Nintendo Switch. My hands immediately balled into fists at his nonchalant behavior, but because I could never confront my brother—or anyone, for that matter—I settled for a sharp knock on the door instead.

He didn't respond, although I swear he glanced up at me at least once before anger whisked me away. In that moment, I had even more feelings handed to me than I knew what to do with, and no one was interested in helping me deal with them. And even worse...

My eyes clamp shut as my conversation with Dad flashes into my mind. Well, it wasn't so much a conversation as it was a quick dismissal of my presence. But I didn't care. There was something I just had to ask.

"Dad," I said as soon as we crossed paths. "Did she leave anything for me?"

He scowled at me on sight, breathing out an exasperated sigh. "It's not about you right now, Saki," he said, pinching the skin beneath his forehead. "And you haven't done anything to deserve it."

I bit my lip, shrinking back as his words raked through my weak skin like freshly sharpened pencils. I felt the heat rush to my face, warning me to back down and salvage what little I had, but I knew I couldn't. If it's for her I just can't, is what I thought.

"She said she would leave something behind for me," I argued. I didn't care what it was, whether it was a tiny note or a whole essay. It was for me. Meant for me. Whether it was a plan or a promise, I wanted to see it. I needed to.

But I'm used to being disappointed. I'm used to being forgotten. And most of all I'm used to being a burden.

"Saki!" The way he screeched my name sounded akin to nails on a chalkboard. "I don't have time for your selfishness!" Dad spun around and hurried off, probably in search of Mom, and just like that, I didn't exist anymore.

Tears flood my eyes open, and I don't bother wiping them anymore. Why can't I be with her? I'm no good on my own on this planet, so why couldn't we both have died in our sleep? It's not fair!

My temple begins to throb with nauseating stress, and in my wooziness I stumble into the fridge sitting behind me.

I need some water.

Sighing, I turn towards the sink, feeling for one of the knobs as my hand hovers beneath the faucet. I try to scan the counter for a glass, but I can't see anything but flat surface.

I push my hand forward, feeling for one of the figures veiled in the dark. My fingers meet with a rigid surface, and I clasp my hand around what feels like a rectangular shape. I pull it to me, and it seems to be a book, but I can't quite identify what the cover says. But that's when I feel something. Something that doesn't make my head feel like a million earthquakes are rippling through it all at once.

Glancing over my shoulders, I pull the book close to my chest and exit the kitchen, climb upstairs, and reach my room.

I set the book on my desk and reach for my lamp switch, the speed of my heartbeat building until it's pounding hard in my chest.

Why do I feel this way all of a sudden?