Wrapped love

"Fated"III

February 8th 1859.

"She died. Suffocated by the cold embrace of the ocean. Forever lost, my love...

I realised she wasn't truly loved, nor by the world or by me. I was an arrogant fool... that once had what I wanted, and took advantage of it. She was probably scared. I will forever miss you..."

-Aoyama Shuuji

I'm writing this from the bed of the mental asylum. I'll be staying here for a while. I feel so empty like I never did before.

In this room, the white walls give me headaches... The only way I could look was the window... a clear, melancholic view of the ocean nearby. I'm still wounded, but what bleeds right now isn't my disgusting flesh, but my own heart. I killed the one who learnt to love me... while I survived. And now I'm trapped in the chaos of my own mind and my body hurts all over. I want to sleep and I can't sometimes, so I request a d**g that would calm me down, allowing me to sleep. Morphine. But I started asking for more.. I think I'm starting to get addicted.

"Beautiful flower,

unnamed,

but tamed

be my lover.

And forever so,

let me see you more.

How so, you love me?

I'll love you more"

Some nonsense I've written. I once felt joy writing those simple minded lines... now I feel... guilt. Knowing I didn't love her properly.

Was that what it took for me to feel like a human being for a while?

I still remember when you called yourself an "inanimated object" and that is how I feel right now. I was not interesting, not superior, denying your pain. I was just full of myself. And I hate myself for that... but maybe now you've found your rest... But oh, how much I long to hear your voice again...

But my love was only materialistic. And now, realising you aren't a part of my schedule anymore, fell down in despair, not having you anymore.

I, alone, had no feelings anyway. Only the pain of my wounds sleeping through my insides.

February 19th 1859

I'm out of here, finally. But I find myself not sleeping anymore. I wander off in the cold town, not feeling your soft hands wrapped around my arm anymore. and I feel lonely and I feel sad.

I feel angry, encouraged to destroy. But can't, no more...

When I was still in that institution, I realized I didn't know your name. And I felt disgusted. How come I didn't know your name, when you were my future wife... and the first one to show me what living a human life meant?...

I wanted to die again, not being able to do anything anymore. I wasn't able to write... to earn some money. And when my wealthy family got the news about my attempt, they disowned me without a word. Not once seeing my mother. My heart dropped to my feet, If not family could love me, who would?...

Recently, I met a woman whose eyes were just like yours. She seemed younger. She worked at the pharmacy. With my sugar-coated words, I managed to take advantage once again, with a lingering hatred still in my mind. But I needed morphine.

So days turned into a month. I lost the room in that warm inn. I was so cold and so desperate, that, on a random night, seeing the woman leave the pharmacy, I attacked her. she looked just like you... so I took heya was mine. Loud screams filled the street, of course I didn't get to do anything when I got hit in the stomach by a sharp foot. Left on the dirty, dark corners of the street, while the women, frightened and trembling ran away with her saviour.

I threw up all the alcohol I drank that day. Not only that I had debts at the pharmacy, but also the bars from the town. My vomit was red... was it blood? yes. Red painted on the soft snow beneath my body... I was dying.

Taking slow breaths, I sat up, then stood up. Stumbling my long way to the old house of yours, my love. I didn't care if that old man saw me... the one you took care of. All that mattered to me, was sitting in your bed like I once used to...

Looking at the ceiling of your room I felt... like you were embracing me again. I fell asleep in a few moments.

I dreamt of the cold waves that took your life. And I've dreamt of you, with a shiny ring on your finger, playing with our sweet children in a clearing. The view was shining with joy. Until I woke up, that is.

I looked around, feeling sick and my body was limp. I wanted to throw up again, but I couldn't. My attention shifted to the little journal you kept.

Flicking through the pages, I didn't discover impressive things. Just some words about your everyday life, that filled your boredom. That's when my trembling hand paused. Your writing, suddenly cold and chaotic. You were describing me. I was left speechless...

"I'm afraid of this man... he observes my every move... he swears he loves me but he treats me like I'm just another woman!... And he wants to touch me, and I don't! But I once knew what his force was like... I do not wish to be beaten... So I'll let him do as he wishes."

The few last paragraphs described how I suggested a double suicide. She wrote about how relieved she would feel that not only she would die, but I, would too. She described me as a monster, but was too afraid to ever say anything.

That's when I remembered. Before knowing her, I was afraid of people's lies. But she, who was untrue to me for so long made me feel alive. How come I was so stupid? That damn woman did not deserve anything I gave her. Not even the slap from before... or that way I let her freeze. She died and she deserved that.

February 20 1859

The house burned down. The old man died suffocating while fire ate the last speck of his body. I felt good. I felt powerful. I felt angry, but... satisfied. I knew I needed to do something quickly. Or else I would have been cuffed and sent behind cold bars.

So climbing the chair, I wrapped a rope around my throat, letting it hug me gently, before holding my heart with a tight grip.

I kicked the chair.

And there I remained, my feet above the ground. A motionless body hung like an ornament.