She didn’t come back to the room after that. I didn’t know where she went. I remembered staggering up and rushing to the bathroom, throwing up until my lungs nearly came out. Then I laid there on the cold bathroom floor, unmoving, my body numb, my head empty.
I remembered my lashes fluttering when the wariness took over.
I had fallen asleep in the bathroom.
But why did I wake up on my bed, tucked under the covers so neatly?
???
When I opened the door for Kenzo later that morning, he just stood by the entrance, facial muscles frozen, backpack hanging loosely on his shoulder.
“I knew it,” he finally said, voice low but firm, and I coulddetect it, a hint of anger he couldn’t quite express. “That fucking bitch, I knew it. I knew she was going to pull this shit.”
Mother didn’t even really hit me that hard. On a normal day, I wasn’t supposed to be able to stand properly for the first 24 hours. My bones were supposed to riot, my body fighting pain. There would have been blood clot at the corner of my lips, bruises on my thighs and face.
All she did was slap me two times. The only thing Kenzo was seeing right now were just the faint presence of her finger prints.
My grip on the door tightened as I waited, not so excited for the inevitable–his outrage, pity, the way he would want to look at me like something fragile, breakable…a victim.
“Well, are you coming in anytime soon?” My voice was low, hoarse from how much I screamed last night. Each word scraped out, dragging pain with them. Seven little words and each felt like I was swallowing a glass.
Kenzo still stood there, looking at me, out of shock now as his jaw feathered lightly.
Tired of holding the door open for him, I released my grip and turned away, shoulders stiff. But before I could reach the three-seater couch, he was there, as though he teleported.
He crouched in front of me, hands hovering over my face before finally pressing on my jaw gently. But I jerked away, not out of pain. His touch was too warm, too gentle. And I didn’t deserve it.
“This isn’t fair.” His voice was ragged, torn. His hands fell helplessly to his lap, curling into a fist so tight his knuckles went bone-white.
“Look at you.” He sucked in air, his eyes turning glossy. “How could she do this to you?” He trembled with restraint.
This wasn’t the first time he was seeing me like this after innocently coming to pick me up for school. Yet every time,every damn time, he was always in shock, unable to believe a human being could be treated this way.
He stood abruptly as if trying to shake off something. “I need to take you to the doctor.”
“Are you kidding me?” My brow raised. “What for? A dislocated jaw? Gosh, Takahashi, it was just two mere slaps across the face.”
He exhaled loudly, shoving his hands into his hair, and the careful golden strands of a few seconds ago stood on end like he had been electrocuted. That was him when there was anger inside him but he didn’t know where to place it.
The silence stretched as he paced the room, muttering a series of curse words in Japanese under his breath.
“I don’t have any device anymore,” I whispered.
“What?” His eyes flashed with anger and shock. “Why?”
I shrugged. “You must have called.”
“I tried your number like a hundred times when I woke up.”
He came to sit beside me. “I started to panic when none went through.”
“She was right, you know.” The words left my mouth, barely audible.
“About what?” he whispered, gaze raking over my face.
I sank further into the couch, the worn cushions swallowing me whole.
“I know you want to take her down so badly, but it turns out she was right all along.”
