Sharp Steel

The silence was louder than a scream.
Ronja still glared down at her, but now she wasn’t thinking. She looked like she knew exactly what to do next.

Alishia stayed frozen. Her hands twitched, but she didn’t move. Ronja’s gaze was steady and sharp, pressing down on her chest. The knife in her hand caught the light for a moment, and Alishia’s stomach sank.

“You will never forget this, Alishia. I’ll promise you that,” Ronja said, a mad smirk spreading across her face.

She yanked Alishia’s hair, forcing her to meet her eyes, while the knife pressed lightly against her cheek. Her heart pounded like a war drum.

"Look at me," Ronja whispered, almost casually, savoring every second. "Every single time you think you’re safe… you’ll remember this."

Alishia’s stomach twisted. The words didn’t need to make sense. The weight of them—the inevitability—pressed down harder than the knife ever could.

The knife pressed slowly against her, and Alishia smelled the coppery tang of blood, felt its warmth spreading.

"You know…" Ronja said, cutting a little deeper, "if I were your mother, I would have dropped you off in that junk house too."

Then something else rose inside Alishia. The pain faded slightly, and fear loosened its grip.

"I bet your mother died after you were born. I mean, I would too if I had to bear such pathetic filth inside me," Ronja continued, her voice dripping with cruelty.

And then… something inside Alishia snapped.

She didn’t know what it was, but she had never felt such rage—not even when Ronja had punched her until she threw up, poured dirty water over her hard schoolwork, or when they had cornered her in the breakroom and humiliated her while everyone just stared and laughed.

This was different. This was personal.

And it was enough. It was finally enough. She wasn’t just fed up—she was burning, exploding with rage.

It wasn’t only the words. It was the way Ronja looked at her while saying them. The way she spoke as if she knew exactly what had happened with her mother, as if Alishia's mother was  nothing but dirty filth on the side of the road, not even worth a glance. It was like the rich looking down on the poor.

She punched Ronja square in the nose. Ronja recoiled, clutching her face and hitting the floor hard, and Alishia sprang up and ran.

But she didn’t get far. Hachiko grabbed her arm, yanking her back and slapping her across the face. Pain lanced through her, and a bitter taste filled her mouth—but she didn’t care.

As he swung again, aiming for a second hit, she twisted just in time, dodging the strike, and kicked him sharply between the legs. Hachiko groaned, staggering back, clutching himself, and she broke free, sprinting again.

But Kim was faster. She grabbed Alishia’s hair, yanking hard. Alishia felt the sharp sting as strands tore out. The acrid smell of Kim’s cheap perfume mixed with the metallic tang of blood—but she didn’t stop.

She grabbed Kim’s arms, making her scream in pain, and shoved her away.

Akio came from behind, gripping her arms tight.

Then all she felt was a sharp, crushing punch to her stomach. Her head spun, her stomach twisted—she felt violently nauseous, as if she might throw up.

There was no time to recover. Another punch landed on her left side, hotter, sharper than the first.

The hard grip on her wrist, the burning, piercing pain, and the spinning in her head—it was too much. She collapsed, Akio still holding her tight. Her breaths came fast, shallow, each one burning her chest, but her mind refused to give up.

Ronja grabbed Alishia by the shirt and yanked her roughly upright. “Get up,” she growled, her voice cold and relentless.

Alishia swayed, her head pounding, her vision blurred, still reeling from the earlier blows. She could barely stand; her legs felt like lead. Her nose was bleeding, and she barely registered it, the metallic taste mixing with the ache in her skull.

Ronja’s eyes blazed with impatience. She gripped Alishia tighter and hauled her up again, her voice slicing through the air like a blade. “Get up, filth!”

Alishia’s knees wobbled uncontrollably. She barely had the strength to focus, everything around her spinning and throbbing. She didn’t even notice that Ronja’s nose was bleeding too, a thin trickle running down from Alishia’s earlier punch.

Pain, blood, and dizziness blurred together, but deep down, a spark of defiance still flickered. She knew she couldn’t let herself fall completely—couldn’t give Ronja the satisfaction.

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” Ronja spat, her face twisted with rage as she stared straight at Alishia. “That you’re strong now?”

She stepped closer, just inches from Alishia’s face. “You will always be NOTHING but weak trash. Never forget that.''

Then Ronja shoved her. Alishia crashed to the ground, hitting hard, pain exploding through her body. Even if she wanted to fight, even if she tried to force herself to move, her body wouldn’t obey—she was too weak, too broken, too exhausted.

She only heard a sharp, ringing sound as she lay on the dirty floor.

“Ronja, that’s too far,” someone said. Alishia couldn’t tell who it was; her mind was blurred, her hearing distorted. All she could hear was a high-pitched ringing, but it sounded like Akio.

Voices followed—arguing, shouting—but they felt distant, fragmented, impossible to understand.

She was so tired. Tired of this life. Tired of being nothing. No matter what she did, it would be like this forever.

She just wanted to leave this life behind and never come back.

She imagined how her life could have been—with friends, with a living mother. Oh, how she yearned for her mother. It felt like a piece of her heart—no, her soul—was missing.

Tears started running down her cheek, mixing with the blood from her wound.
She closed her eyes, hoping to disappear—to be somewhere else, another world.
She just wanted to rest.

But then—sharp.

A burning pain, like hot fire, jolted her awake. Her eyes flew open, and her scream tore out of her, loud and full of agony.
She tried to break free, but she was held tight. The pain grew worse with every movement, with every motion Ronja made against her neck using her rusty pocket knife.

Alishia gasped, her breaths coming in ragged bursts as the heat of the pain spread through her body. A dull, burning ache pulsed through her cheek and radiated into her temples, like someone had pressed her heart into fists. Every small movement hurt, even breathing felt like a battle.

Ronja leaned over her, a cruel, satisfied smile on her lips. “Pathetic,” she whispered, her voice cold and sharp. “You can’t even get up without me helping you. Just look at you… all weak and useless.”

Alishia closed her eyes, tears mixing with dirt and the sting of her wound, the pain radiating through her every nerve. Why can’t I move? Why am I not stronger? Her thoughts collided, each memory of Ronja’s words and blows burning in her mind.

Ronja grabbed her shirt again, yanking her roughly upright. “Come on, filth. Show me you’re not completely worthless.”

Alishia wavered, her legs giving way beneath her, her vision swimming. Her head throbbed, nausea rising in waves, but Ronja allowed her no moment to breathe. Alishia felt Ronja’s gaze drilling into her, the humiliation, the control – it all pushed her down.

“Look at you… barely standing. You think you’re anything? You’re worthless. Worth nothing at all,” Ronja continued, her tone slow and merciless, each word striking Alishia’s already shattered sense of self.

Alishia wanted to scream, wanted to run, wanted to vanish from the world. But every movement sent fresh waves of pain through her. Her heart pounded wildly, thoughts spinning, and she felt her strength fading. All she wanted was a single moment of peace, a breath without pain, without Ronja’s mocking eyes.

Her body trembled, the last remnants of energy draining away, and yet – deep inside, somewhere between fear and agony – a tiny spark of resistance glimmered. I won’t give up completely, she thought, barely a whisper in her mind. Not now. Not for her.

Ronja released her for a heartbeat, only to assert control again. “Remember this feeling, Alishia. This is what happens when you think you matter.”

Ronja’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing across her face. Alishia tried to get up but somehow managed to get up and find her way trembling because of pain to Ronja, her legs slowly giving up, her head pounding from the previous blows. Her chest heaved, every breath a struggle, and a cold dread settled over her. Panic surged, urging her not fall—but her body felt heavy, unresponsive.

She stumbled forward, desperate to escape, but Ronja’s speed was terrifyingly fast. In an instant, her arm shot out. Alishia barely had time to react before she tripped, crashing to the ground. The impact sent a jolt through her entire body. She froze, shock rooting her to the spot—not from the pain itself, but from the sudden, overwhelming realization of how bad the sudden cut really was. Even Ronja’s eyes widened for a split second, a flicker of surprise at her own force.

Alishia had never seen her like this.

Before she could gather herself, Hachiko and Kim closed in, pinning her arms and holding her down, even if they were shocked too. Every movement she made was met with resistance. She struggled, twisting, thrashing, but the more she fought, the tighter their grip became. Every slap and shove left her dazed, her vision swimming, her mind fogged. Her head spun, stomach churned, and her heart pounded like it might burst. The weight of her exhaustion pressed down, and for the first time, she felt the raw, terrifying edges of her own fragility.

She gasped, the world tilting around her, a blur of anger, fear, and helplessness. Why can’t I move faster? she thought, frustration burning hot inside her. Why can’t I fight back? Every fiber of her body screamed to fight, to escape, but her muscles betrayed her. She was trapped. Completely. Utterly.

Ronja leaned in, her voice low, cold, slicing through Alishia’s fogged mind. “Tomorrow… 36,000 yen at 10 A.M.,” she hissed, each word deliberate, unyielding. “You bring it. I dont care how you do it. Every last yen. Or this… this was only a taste of what’s coming.”

When they finally left, Alishia was still lying on the ground—alone, broken, and shaking.
Her tears were silent now. Blood seeped slowly from her skin, warm against the cold floor.

In that moment, she wished for nothing more than a helping hand—...but none came.

So she swallowed the pain and the fear, knowing she would have to get up somehow. She had to find the money.

Because if she didn’t…
today would be nothing compared to the pain awaiting her in the future.

She did not know why but somewhere , deep inside, knew she had to survive this.