Funeral Day

The Day of the Funeral.

I locked myself in my room after returning from the funeral home.

I wanted to sleep, but my eyes were refusing to be shut. I then tried to distract myself with my phone, unfortunately not a single piece of content brought me any joy. Finally, I resigned myself to the pages of a book, and somehow every sentence felt hollow and meaningless to me—as if the pleasure of reading had become an illusion. It instead reminding me of the one specific sentence from that leather-bound diary:

I’m going to kill myself in seven days.

I shut my book and put it away. For the first time in my life, I felt afraid to read.

I checked my phone again. The last message I’d sent to Tanaka was still unread. She had vanished without even saying goodbye.

What did those six days together even mean? Was it just so she could have a little fun? Did she just use me before decided to leaving forever? Screw her. Was that really the "apple of everyone's eye"? She was more like a cruel, two-faced demon.

I was in the middle of ranting in my mind when I heard a knock on my door.

"Are you in there?" my sister called me out.

I sluggishly rolled off the bed to meet her.

"You have a package," she said.

I took the parcel and checked the label. There was no description about the content, but it was clearly addressed to me.

The sender: TANAKA ASUKA.

Panic surged through my whole nerve. I immediately locked my room again and rushed to my desk.

I opened the package, my hands were trembling. Inside was a brown envelope and a leather-bound book. The envelope contained a stack of receipts and a bundle of cash. She’d returned every cent she had drained from me over those six days?

This girl....

The photos we took on the fifth day were in there, too, along with a letter. Still choked by a sense of dread, I forced myself to open the letter and read.

*** 

To my dearest Bookworm,

Hey, how are you?

I hope you aren't drowning in sorrow as you read this. You're not exactly the emotional type after all, right?

But if you do feel sad about my passing, I guess that’s okay too. I would be happy instead, that you—the Bookworm with only one facial expression—felt sad over losing a friend.

Ah, I said "friend," didn't I? Were we really friends? Even if only for a few days? I can consider us friends, right?

I’m sorry for saying all of these through a letter. I didn't know if I had the gut to face you. I think I would have cried—hard. You know how girls are; too emotional. So, let me speak through this pen instead. Besides, you love reading, don't you?

Maybe, like everyone else, you thought I was the perfect girl. The apple of everyone's eye. And it’s obviously strange that a girl as perfect as me wished to be dead, right?

But I wasn't that perfect. My life was much darker than anyone imagined. At home, I was more like an animal for the slaughter.

My father changed after his company went bankrupt. On top of that, my mother ran off with another man, leaving him in a downward spiral.

Ever since then, he became a monster. He always hurt me because I looked like my mother. When he was heavily drunk, he would... force himself on me. I was even... pregnant for a time. But the baby....

Honestly, I couldn't take it anymore. That person wasn't my father. I couldn't live in that hell called home. That's why I decided to end everything. I was ready. I was going to die and leave it all behind. I was going to do it on my birthday—in seven days.

That was the initial plan.

But....

It turns out the demon inside me had grown too large. Hatred dragged me to the kitchen and made me grab that knife. And then... I stabbed him.

For the first time in a long time, I felt free. A terrifying feeling that made me happy.

Hey, do you hate me now? You have to, right. It’s hard not to hate a filthy girl who’s also a murderer.

That’s why... I couldn't come to see you on the seventh day. I was... ashamed. And afraid... I had became a rotten apple....

Hey. Are you still reading?

Can you hear my voice?

Did you look for me that day?

I’ll never know. But if you did, it would make me so happy. As happy as my last six days were. But if not... then it means I have no hope left in this world. I can’t bear living as a "filthy" girl. Especially as a killer. Because of that, I have to go.

I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been a real nuisance to you these past six days, right? But I’m glad you wanted to be my friend during those last day. Please don't forget me. And stay alive with a smile on your face. Like the way you’re smiling in those photos.

And thank you for letting me smiling for these seven days.

From your friend, Tanaka Asuka.

*** 

My chest tightened after reading that letter. I folded it and tucked it back into the envelope. Then, I opened her diary. It was filled with tragedies beyond my imagination. The sentence I’m going to kill myself in seven days was still in there, on that same page.

There was no continuation in that diary. No mention of me. At all.

Seven days had passed just like that. And she had left without saying goodbye, leaving behind memories that I unable to enjoy.

I placed the diary in my desk drawer and collapsed onto my bed. I closed my eyes, trying to sleep. In the strangest corner of my heart, I hoped that all of this was nothing but a horrific nightmare.

But when I woke up later that night, the world was still stained deep with thick, red ink.

***