I entered home, ran to my room. I didn't care about a single thing in the world. It was already late; they saw me. I tried to hide but I couldn't; they beat me again. It was normal for me, I didn't have any emotions; just a normal face. My legs, arms were covered in blood. I couldn't walk for the day. Just lay in my bed; think about earth. Why was it so cruel, what did I do to deserve this punishment, what was love, caring and more. I always wanted to "kill" them all; the people in my school, my teachers, my family; everybody I knew, I wanted them to "die".
I was normal at school; had average grades, normal; the quiet kid. It was a normal day.
But while I was walking, it felt different; the air, wind, people; everything. I thought it was normal. Then something happened; it was like time had stopped, all by itself. I couldn't understand anything; then it happened. I felt the pain I felt in my entire life, I bled, cried, screamed; but no one could hear me. It was like I was invisible. Then, someone came. I couldn't see it, but I was able to hear it. But the pain; I wanted to kill myself at the moment. I couldn't see anything, just "pain". It was like burning in hell, I couldn't move, couldn't speak, yell or do anything.
『???』: "Do you want to end your suffering?"
Akihiro: "W-who are you?"
『???』: "It doesn't matter, do you?"
Akihiro: "Yes…"
『???』: "Do you want to make the world feel the pain you felt?"
It was like my wish was coming true. I felt the pain, over and over again.
Akihiro: "Sure, why not…"
『???』: "Even if it means forsaking your family?"
Akihiro: "...YES"
『???』: "Even if it means killing your own family?"
Akihiro: "YES!!!..."
『???』: "I grant your wish to you"
Then, the time was normal. Like it's own, I didn't feel anything, not a single change, but the rage inside me was burning; the pain, it was going, i felt the pain; while walking, running, talking, sitting; everywhere. I couldn't escape it, no matter how I tried. But I felt something was off inside me, no matter how I tried; I couldn't figure it out. But I felt stronger, better and the rage; it was burning inside me. I still got beaten up at school, bullied. But I didn't do anything I just waited, it was like I was playing chess inside my brain; I could predict things, see things I couldn't. I waited for the perfect time; to kill them all. Then I remembered the day my real pain started, it was like someone was making me remember it. I still remember the sound.
Not her voice. Not her laughter. Not the way she whispered to me through the walls when we couldn't sleep. No—what I remember is the sound of her skull hitting the floor. Over and over again.
It started like most nights in that house—with shouting. Father kicked down her door, raving about crumbs. About a missing carton of milk. But I knew the truth. He found the wrappers. Mika had been sneaking food to me again. That was her crime. She was guilty of being kind.
I rushed to the hallway, but Father caught me by the collar, slammed me into the wall. His breath stank of alcohol and cigarettes. "Watch," he said, his voice quiet and venomous. "You take your eyes off her, and I'll rip yours out."
He dragged me to the living room like a sack of meat. My knees scraped across the floor as I was thrown beside the table. That's when I saw her.
Mika—fourteen, my twin, my other half—was kneeling on the floor. Her arms were zip-tied behind her back. Her face was swollen, nose leaking blood, mouth twitching with pain. Even then, she looked at me. Even then, she tried to smile.
And that smile was the most painful part.
Mother lit a cigarette and walked forward. She didn't speak until she flicked the burning ash directly into Mika's face. "Feeding that little rat again? You ungrateful bitch," she whispered, calm as ever.
Father picked up the bat.
The first swing landed on Mika's ribs with a dull, wet crack. The second went low—thigh, maybe knee. The third caught her across the face. Blood flew across the room, speckled the ceiling, splashed across me. Something hit the floor near my foot. A molar. Maybe two.
Mika tried to scream, but she couldn't. Her jaw hung limp. Dislocated. The skin on her face split open like old leather.
She was choking. On blood. On shattered teeth. On pain.
Her eyes never left mine.
Then came the blade.
Father pulled a box cutter from his pocket. Cheap, rusted. He knelt behind her and started slicing. Lines down her arms. Across her back. Zigzagged deep into the skin. When the blade dulled, he forced it through anyway. I could hear it tearing.
Mother followed. She knelt beside Mika with a cheese grater. A cheese grater. And she started shredding her back. Skin came off in ribbons. Blood poured down like syrup. Mika's body writhed, spasmed, like she was being electrocuted. She threw up blood—thick, stringy, dark red.
Then they poured salt on her.
Then alcohol.
The moment it touched her wounds, Mika arched backwards so violently the zip-tie snapped. She bit down so hard on her tongue it nearly split in half. I saw her body tremble. Her muscles locking, her voice nothing but a screech from hell.
Still, she looked at me. Still, somehow, she tried to keep me calm.
Then Mother took the cigarette and pressed it into Mika's eye.
It hissed. She didn't scream. Just convulsed. Blood gushed from the melted socket as steam rose. She was breaking down. Piece by piece. Her body crumbled like burnt paper.
Her lips quivered.
"I… love you… Akihiro…"
She didn't make a sound. Just mouthed it.
And then she collapsed—face-first into a pool of her own blood.
It spread beneath her slowly, soaking into the floorboards. Thick. Still warm. It looked like a flower was blooming around her body. A red spider lily, drenched in suffering.
Father crouched and checked her pulse. "She's done," he muttered.
Mother stood and lit another cigarette.
They walked away like nothing happened. Like they'd just taken out the trash.
I didn't cry. I didn't move. I didn't speak. I just sat there. Watching her body twitch in the final spasms of death. Watching the blood soak my knees, my hands, my heart.
That was the day I stopped believing in love. In kindness. In hope. In anything.
That was the day something in me died.
And something else took its place.