24 – Severed

Nights in this overly silent house always felt cold. I didn't know where the chill came from, but it made me curl up whether it was winter or summer. It never had a warm atmosphere, even when I shut the windows.

Turning on the television or radio provided a little warmth, like holding a lantern in the palm of my hand. Hearing someone speak made me feel like I had dropped in on a part of their life.

I never felt the loneliness Ruri-chan talked about. I was always by myself since Mom started leaving at night. Nearly three years passed, living like that. Even spending New Years' and Christmas alone didn't bother me.

I left the TV on in the living room and went back to my bedroom. After I got out of the bath, I did my skincare routine and listened to the radio. I pressed a palm to my puffy cheek as I thought about what happened yesterday.

I'd invited Ruri-chan into my room. She showed me how she comforted herself, then hugged me. Although I’d gone out of my way to invite her in, it was over without her even once hurting me. I should have pushed her a little harder. Maybe she would have done what I asked if I'd been more upfront with her or responded to what she was saying with "yeah, right!" or "I get it!" in a lilting voice. I wondered why I was so stubborn about wanting things to go my way.

I dried my hair and laid down in bed. Mom hadn't come home today either. There was more food in the fridge, so I figured she came back while I was asleep. Although I told Ruri-chan I'd try to speak to Mom, I wondered if I'd even be able to. I hadn't seen her since I was in the hospital.

Handrails had been installed on the stairs like Mom said they would. She's kind. She'd buy anything for me if I needed it, no matter what. This room was full of books and games that she'd bought and left here for me. She'd done it so that I wouldn't be left with nothing to do. She even bought me cute, stylish clothes that I could go out in without cringing.

I wondered just what it was about the butterfly hairpin that felt different from all of that. Of everything Mom bought for me, it was probably the cheapest of the lot. But I hadn't thrown the hairpin away, even when I'd thrown out clothes that I was still able to wear. There had to be a reason I was hanging on to it, somewhere.

---

The next evening, I was watching a news program in the living room.

I got a two-liter bottle of tea out of the refrigerator and poured myself a cup. I sat down on the sofa and rolled the butterfly hairpin around in my hand. It had a rough texture when I rubbed it with my fingers, almost like lamé cloth in places. As I felt it, it was almost like tracing the outlines of a forgotten memory that I'd locked away somewhere. That memory was closer to the surface these days, but I still couldn't make out its form through the murkiness.

The TV anchors were talking about a stabbing incident. There were three people with light to severe injuries, and one of them was in a coma. The criminal was apparently still on the run, and the name of my neighborhood was on the chyron. They told residents to remain alert.

I wonder what I would've said if someone else had been here when I saw that. "That's close, isn't it?! We shouldn't go out by ourselves at night!" or "I wonder if the person who got stabbed is okay?" or "Woah, I wonder why they'd do something so awful." I wonder if they'd be repeated in the cold atmosphere of this room.

Just what would it be like to get stabbed in the stomach with a 10 cm blade? Would I hear the muscle fibers ripping violently, or would it reach my vitals without my being able to hear it? I'd be fine with getting stabbed from behind. At any rate, I just wanted to feel a sudden shock I never saw coming and drown in the smell of a sea of blood. The repulsive feeling of metallic cold inside my feverish flesh and a knife tip poking at my organs. No one would save me, no matter how much I called for help or begged for the knife to be pulled out.

I'd fall to my knees clutching my stomach with a knife in my back, throwing up blood as my consciousness grew dim, feeling terror and fury bordering on irrationality from the satisfaction and pain of surrendering to a human body weakened by shallow breathing and the violent sensations inflicted on it.

…It made me so jealous.

I felt sorry for the people who were hurt, I truly did. I'd take their place if I could. I would have taken the knife for all of you.

My body grew hot as I imagined a scene of an attacker walking up to me and stabbing me suddenly. The pain a person is capable of inflicting with a knife is purer than anything else. Jumping off a high spot or getting run over by a car were just mere imitations.

I heard a sound from the front door. I had an idea of who it was, since I could hear the sound of a key. Why though? I suddenly felt a flash of doubt and suspense. I went to open the door.

"Ah– I-It's only you, Mom…"

Even though it was only evening, she was still in the red dress she wore for work. She put her key away in its case and finally noticed me as she kicked her shoes off. She sighed in a low voice that dropped to the ground.

"Welcome back!"

My own voice surprised me. It was bouncy, the one I had to strain my neck to make. I'd forgotten it recently, but it immediately felt like it fit just right. Ah, yeah... I also talked like this so I could figure out Mom's mood. This tone wouldn’t start a fight.

"You're back?"

"Yeah, I came straight home today–"

The moment I ran over to Mom, a piercing, chemical odor I had never smelled before filled my nose. It was like alcohol being poured straight into my sinuses. My eyes watered. This smell was new. Not just that, it was like seeing a whole new person somehow. My heart pounded nervously. This person had Mom's shape, but didn't seem like Mom at all.

"Oh, Sumi-chan, who's that girl?"

Just as it felt like I needed to clear something from my clenched throat, the door swung open and a man I'd never seen before came into the house. Since he was wearing sunglasses, I couldn't get a good look at his face. The chemical smell wafted off him as well. I immediately realized that it was perfume strong enough to drown in.

"Ah, yeah… this is my kid. She's… you knooow."

The voice that came from her mouth was like it was imitating someone else. I was struck by how creepy it was—almost like an expressionless parrot that could chat with a human voice. I couldn't help but take a step back.

The man took off his shoes and wandered in like he owned the place. Without even asking permission he went to the fridge in the living room and opened it. "Ah, cola? Is it okay if I help myself?" He didn't wait for a reply before he started drinking it straight from the container.

"W-Who's this, mom?"

"None of your business."

I wanted to talk to her.

What did it mean to be lonely? I still wasn't sure.

I want you to come home every now and then. I want to watch TV and listen to music together. I want to talk to you. I want to prove I'm alive. Living proof. If I can find that, I can feel like I'm going somewhere, even if it's too late to spread my wings.

"H-Hey, Mom…"

I smiled at her, maybe a little self-consciously. Whenever she said something, I giggled even though there wasn't anything to laugh at. It was the protective instinct of feigning a smile. Mom scowled at me. The look in her eyes told me not to be a nuisance.

"Ah, um… Thanks for always making sure I have food. For the pocket money too. You give me so much… I... I'm not even sure what to use it on. I've been saving it."

"Ok."

"Ah, and it was the sports festival the other day! I ran in the class relay but ended up tripping… but my classmates were so fast we won anyway!"

"That's nice." Mom fixed her bangs in the full-length mirror leaning against the entryway, not looking at me.

"Um, mom… I'd like you to come home sometimes."

Our eyes met through the mirror. The mother and daughter reflected from the mirror world had opposite looks on their faces.

"I have a job. What would I do if I came back? Why do you care?"

"Uh.. I don't know, but…"

"Don't bother me with this."

It was like electricity had been severed by an insulator that wouldn't let it pass through. It left me in an abyssal darkness with nowhere else to go.

The man called out. Mom replied with a sunny voice, but the scowl she gave me was nothing but ice cold.

"I've got some business to take care of after this. Can you go kill time somewhere else until I'm finished?"

"Huh?"

"Don't give me that. Didn't you hear me? Find something else to do."

"But it's already dark!"

"I gave you money, didn't I? There’s no way you can’t find something to use it on, right? Good. Don't come back until nine."

I wanted to say something, but it felt like the flesh had instantly been stripped from my bones. There was a hollow, a cave-like chill blasting through my throat, chest, and face.

"M-Mom, look at this!"

It wasn't just an overwhelming, last-ditch hope. There was still a faint current running through that perfectly severed electrical line.

I held out the butterfly hairpin so Mom could see it.

"This turned up when I was cleaning a couple of days ago. Do you remember it, Mom?"

Maybe she'd think it was charming if I told her I'd always held onto it. I opened my hands like a flower and revealed the butterfly. It was the brilliant blue that I loved. Mom bought it for me at the botanical gardens; the first time I ever went somewhere with her. It was something I wanted with all my heart. I treasured it.

It was my proof of life.

"Huh? I have no idea what that is." She clicked her tongue and disappeared into the living room.

I stood in the entrance, unable to move. In the light from the living room, I could hear Mom talking and a man I didn't know laughing.

I didn't have a place here.

I flew through the door as if I'd been repelled.