Dusk

When I woke up, I realized I was crying. My face was stained with the tears from the realistic dream I had last night, but more importantly, my mind felt different.

Not only did I seem to remember everything about my past, but there also seemed to be something else inside my head. No—not something else, someone else.

The dream I had just now… it felt so real, I thought.

“That’s because it is,” I suddenly hear a familiar voice echo inside my head.

What? I thought.

“You heard me,” the voice of blob-me said, “the dream you just had was not merely a dream, but rather, a fragment of all your memories before your world turned black and white. Everything you saw there was just as real as it felt.”

I paused.

So that means I…

“Yes, that means we’re a murderer. We killed someone. Poor little Itsumi got burned up inside the paint curing oven that we turned on.”

Shut up. I thought.

“Which makes me wonder—what killed her first? The burns from the heat or the chemicals that filled up her lungs?”

Shut. Up.

"Or… maybe a little combination of both. Maybe the fumes from the smoke and chemicals choked her out while she was sealed inside. You know, they say the autopsy was so bad, they couldn’t really tell what was the exact cause of death—only guesses as to what dealt the final blow."

I SAID SHUT UP!

“Oh, but why? So you can hide away from the truth? So you can hole yourself up in the world of black and white again?”

I looked over to Emuru’s sleeping body on the bed across from me.

“That’s right, she’s the one who pulled us out of that world, but she’s a big liar isn’t she?”

Don’t talk about her like that.

“Ha? And why not?”

Because… because I love her…

“Oho? So now you know what love is.”

Of course I do. You returned my memories back to me after all.

“But of course. Now the real question is; does she love us back?”

Of course she does—she said so herself.

Suddenly, I hear Emuru beginning to toss and turn before sitting up in her bed, her eyes still groggy as she looks over at me.

“Good morning Nanashi,” she yawns, “I have to go somewhere early today, so unfortunately we can’t stop by the cafe again.”

“Oh… okay,” I said, watching her go to the bathroom to get ready.

“Does she love you?” blob-me asks, “or is it just one of her little lies again? She did say she didn’t want to feel lonely anymore. Maybe telling you she loves you was just another one of her ways of keeping you with her.”

I paused.

No, she wouldn’t lie to me.

“And why are you so sure of that? She couldn’t even make time for you today, despite confessing to you yesterday. If she really loved you, wouldn’t you think she’d at least tell you why and where she’s going?”

I hated how the words were starting to get to me, and hated myself even more for starting to distrust Emuru even though that was the thing she was afraid of the most.

“But trust is earned, wouldn’t you agree? Tell me, what has she done to gain your trust so far?”

She helped me. She helped pull me out of the depressive state I was in and allowed me to see the world normally again.

“But that was for her own personal gain was it not? After all, she said so herself. She just wanted someone introverted to be with, and only helped you out of pity.”

So you’ll trust her when she says she is lying, but distrust her otherwise?

“Hmph. That’s a fair analysis. How about this then; when she comes out of the bathroom, ask her where she’s going. If she tells you, then she loves you, but if she doesn’t then, you’re going to do as I say next.”

I didn’t like how ominous that last part sounded, but I didn’t see the harm in it. After all, it was just me speaking to myself.

Fine. I trust her enough to tell me.

We wait for a few moments, before I hear the sound of the doorknob turn as Emuru exits the bathroom.

“Hey Emuru,” I said, “just wondering, but where are you going today anyway?”

She stares at me for a moment with an awkward expression on her face.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” she said with a smile, “it’s a secret.”

My heart dropped.

“See? I told you she doesn’t love you.”

“Oh… ok then,” I said.

“Don’t be too sad, I’ll return back in the evening. After that, we can do some fun stuff together okay?”

I nod, and watch as she puts on her shoes and leaves.

“After all, how could anyone love a murderer like us?”

I froze.

I said to shut up about that.

“And why should I listen to you?” blob-me said, “in fact, you should be the one who’s listening to me. You lost the bet after all.”

…Fine, what is it that you want me to do?

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked,” she continued, “today, we’re going to do what we should’ve done a long time ago—today, we’re going to pay for our crimes of brutally murdering Mrs. Itsumi Shimada—today we’re going to kill ourselves.”

What…? I thought, processing her words, WHAT??? And why would I do that?

“Think about it, Mashiro. We deserve it.”

I hesitated. I wanted to deny it but I couldn’t.

No, I firmly thought, I’m not going to do it.

“And why not? What is there left to live for anyway?”

There’s Emur—

“The one who doesn’t love you? That two-faced liar who's just using you?”

…Then what about Mrs. Yamabuki? And my coworkers? They still need me at the cafe.

“Do they? Do they really? You’re working on the afternoon shift where there’s barely any customers around. In fact, Mrs. Yamabuki has it so easy that sometimes chooses to work those shifts alone.”

Then… then what about going to art school?

“Ha! You’re still thinking about going there? Hahaha! I would say ‘don’t make me laugh’, but it’d be too late for that. I’m afraid you’re just too funny Mashiro. And when do you expect to get enough money for that? In two years? You’re already being underpaid at the cafe, and you don’t even work past 6 hours a day. How are you even sure that you’ll retain your position at the job?”

I don’t care. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll make it to art school. If I get fired at the job, I’ll find a new one. After all that’s what my grandpa wanted to see. He said he wanted to see me go to art school!

That line seemed to silence the voice inside my head for a moment.

“...you still haven’t put it together?”

What do you mean?

“You mean to tell me that you still. Haven’t. Put it. Together?” blob-me asks, punctuating each word.

Well if you’re so smart and seem to know everything then why don’t you tell me?!

“HE’S DEAD ALREADY YOU GODDAMN IDIOT! HE’S DEAD! HE’S BEEN DEAD FOR OVER HALF A YEAR ALREADY!”

What…?

No… you’re lying! He’s not—he’s not dead…

“Did you forget who was paying the rent for your old apartment? Did you ever question where the money was coming from while all you did was walk around the world like a jobless fool? He dumped the rest of his money on his worthless, pathetic, piece of shit, of a granddaughter, while she waltzed around the place like a zombie! That’s money he could’ve saved for his medication! He was suffering from asthma but you were too self-absorbed in getting into art school as if the only person in the world that mattered was you! And do you know what’s even funnier than that? Despite all his asthma complications, he still puts enough time in his day to care about you, sending you his money, hoping that you’ll make it in the city, but look at you now! You’re working a part-time, low-paying, replaceable job, and living in a one room apartment with a two-faced roommate as your ‘lover’ who couldn’t even bother to buy you another mattress to sleep on, nor offer you to sleep together with her! How pathetic is that!? Is this what your grandpa died for!?”

Stop it…

“Is this what he wasted his money on!?”

Stop it…!

“You might as well also count yourself responsible for his death as well.”

Stop… it…

“Look at that. That’s two to your kill count already. I guess you really don’t know what’s going on in the mind of a murderer.”

“I SAID STOP IT…!” I shouted, my face crawling with tears, “stop it… Please… just stop it already… I know… I know I’m a murderer…”

For a moment the voices in my head seemed to stop, but it then resumed with an eerie tone.

“You want me to stop? You want the voices to stop in your head? Are you tired of all the ringing in your ears?”

A soft ringing sound suddenly begins to buzz in my ears—the same one that played that day.

“Then you know what to do to make it all stop.”

I blankly stared at the ground, my eyes empty and devoid of life.

“Yes… I know what I must do…” I murmured, “but at the very least… allow me to say goodbye in the way I want to.”

“Fine. I don’t care what you do as long as we pay for our crimes in the end—our crime of trying to do our best in this world.”