Journal of anime ramblings, fiction works and reflections
The funeral ended earlier than she expected it to. Charly stayed by her aunt’s side as they walked with everyone else to the family graveside. The rain lightly rinsed the earth, wetting Charly’s new shoes that were already smeared with mud. She stood, holding her own small umbrella up and watched as the undertakers placed the coffin on the bier. The mournful hymns started and Charly looked around at the faces of those who were there. Some were hidden by black veils, some looked sincere, and the others – it seemed – had small smirks that quickly paled to an aloof gaze as they watched the coffin being lowered.
She was untouched by their moral support of being there. Did they even really care that her mother was dead? She turned away, watching as they heaped the mortar over the lowered coffin, beside her father’s tombstone. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t cry. There was a numbness that steeled her against showing any signs of weakness to those around her. She tugged her hand from her aunt’s grip, who was dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue, her semi-masculine voice wavering with each note of the hymn. Charly stared and reached out her gloved palm, watching the dots of rain that stained the white satin. She was detached from the burial ceremony. She just wanted to go home.
It ended some minutes later and she sat in the back seat. Her aunt glanced at her from time to time, but she kept her gaze trained out the window, ignoring her aunt’s unspoken concern. It was too bad she wasn’t legally old enough to live by herself. Living with her aunt and uncle wasn’t something she was looking forward to, but it was better than being placed into foster care.
The car pulled up to their suburban home and she walked up the pathway, ornamented by potted plants. They followed behind her and her uncle gave her a shoulder a reassuring squeeze that almost hurt. She glanced up at him but he returned her blank stare of irritation with a comforting smile. Charly shrugged his hand off casually and went inside the house when her aunt unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“Are you hungry, Charlotte?”
She shook her head at her aunt, who removed her hat, allowing her long and thick hair to fall on her shoulders.
“Okay, get undressed and I’ll get dinner started.”
“Okay,” Charly responded, her voice soft and without a tone of identifiable emotion. She walked slowly behind her aunt then stepped into the kitchen. The knives were in her reach. The one that seemed to have the sharpest edge was the one she reached. Hiding it beneath her dress, she went up to the room she usually stayed in and locked the door. Undressing, she brought the knife to the bathroom, setting it on the top right edge of the tub then turned the taps on. She stood before the mirror and pulled the elastics from her dark hair. Picking up the brush, she brushed through her hair and smiled, tears spilling from her eyes onto her cheeks.
She swallowed and went into the tub once it was full, the water sloshing over the sides when she submerged herself in the water. Both her parents were dead because of that disease. No doubt, it was already inside her and she would meet the same fate when she was older. She’d seen the pain her father had endured because of it. She’d been the one to discover her mother’s body.
She picked up the knife.
Just like this.
Pressing the knife against the pulsing vein in her wrist, she rested her head back against the bath pillow and looked up at the ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut as she dug the knife in then sliced it roughly through the skin.
A/N: Sharing the video that inspired my muse to write this entry.