Death's Voice

Under the soft glow of candlelight, to the tune of familiar melodies, Amei and I reveled in the simplicity of our childhood. Laughter echoed through the walls, occasionally interrupted by a forgotten toy. Our father, once a respected businessman, now carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His presence was a temporary respite from the demands of the outside world. Meanwhile, our mother, the anchor of our home, toiled away in the kitchen, awaiting our father's return amidst our laughter.

Those days were adorned with genuine happiness. Amei, with her silver locks cascading down her back and her eyes like glistening sapphires, stood as my dearest companion. Her infectious laughter, often the precursor to tears, never deterred her; she'd always bounce back with that radiant smile.

In truth, I was content with my sister and the semblance of family we had.

But it was a facade.

Our father, though physically present, was consumed by the trials of his fading business. The once-warm smile, reserved for us, now contorted into a chilling gaze. Work was a relentless master, demanding his every waking moment. Our mother, the backbone of our home, bore the brunt of this absence, juggling the responsibilities of caring for us and tending to her own needs.

I held gratitude for my father, for the lessons he sought to impart, and for his attempts to shield us from the impending darkness.

If only we had comprehended.

Chrysanthemum:

The memory of my mother placing that first blood-red chrysanthemum in the vase, shortly after our successful high school auditions, is etched into my mind.

Time now seemed to move at a crawl.

Amei began exhibiting symptoms that were, at first, innocuous. Yet they soon morphed into something far more sinister—an ailment that invaded her mind, impairing her speech and cognitive functions. She remained physically present, yet like an empty vessel, her once expressive eyes now vacant. Mother, weighed down by sorrow, sought solace in the embrace of alcohol.

Father's absence grew, consumed by a failing business venture. The growing tension between my parents escalated, each blaming the other for Amei's condition.

Unable to comprehend.

Once a vibrant soul with eyes aflame, Amei had become a glassy surface, oblivious to the world around her. She watched our pet bird, once lively, now frail and fading, its chirps falling on deaf ears.

Truth and Death.

Every thought was a tempest in my mind.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as resentment surged for the empty shell before me. This, the entity that had robbed me of my sister long before I could properly appreciate our time together. I never got to convey my gratitude, my feelings, my desire to save her.

Only when I lost her did I realize.

And in her place stood this grotesque, silent specter.

I shoved her, shouting with every fiber of my being. My heart pounded mercilessly, veins aflame, vision blurred by tears, and throat raw from the screams.

Just like her eyes, my emotions vanished beneath the deluge.

Yet the worst was her response.

She didn't react to my words. No sound escaped her lips as I pushed her to the ground. She simply looked at me with vacant eyes, the frigid chill of her gaze cutting through me.

I was worse.

I yearned for her to retort, to scream, to strike, to hurt. To call me a monster, to lay the blame on me for her isolation, the taunts, the cruelty she endured at school—all because of me. She was scorned because of me. She was suffering because of me. She was fading because of me.

"Why won't you speak? Speak to me! Yell at me! Tell me I'm a monster!"

She gazed at me.

Her soul danced on.

Emotionless.

My soul was wracked with anguish. I wept in the icy room, a confluence of family sorrow and my adolescent burden. All those years of striving to be human, and I had nothing of substance to show for it.

Now, all I had was a hollow shell, and I had pushed her to the brink.

She merely smiled calmly, whispering softly,

"Can you hear the melody of Death?"

Desires:

Months ebbed away, Amei's gaze growing even dimmer. The chrysanthemum withered, replaced by a red camellia, its beauty eclipsed by its lifelessness.

Mother's despair deepened, and Father's once-warm smile turned to a chilling glare.

I wandered through our cold halls, eyes fixed on relics of our shared past. Handprints on the cookie jar, a testament to our childhood mischief, and the height marks on the doorway, capturing our growth.

Our past loomed in every corner, replaced now by shattered toys and a television, its screen fractured and unwatchable.

Amei's smile, once a beacon of warmth, now a glacial droplet.

Even I, consumed by emptiness.

Days passed in shared silence, Amei and I exchanging empty stares. I distanced myself from friends and from school, finding solace only in the frigid embrace of our home.

The pet bird, once a source of joy, now languished in sickness.

Still, Amei remained placid. She pushed the bird gently inside its cage, murmuring,

"Look how sweet it is. Embracing death in the arms of life. Truly endearing."

I feared losing her, the person I had already lost.

She would pause before the mirror, addressing a spectral woman, an ethereal figure who beckoned her towards "Thanatos" and away from "Eros." She'd whisper to me, asking, "Can you hear Eros, sister?" after a prolonged gaze.

Yet when I looked, I saw nothing. Just my sister for a fleeting moment, before the spark of life would vanish, leaving me with nothing but emptiness.

I attempted to pull her away, away from the abyss, from that pale visage.

But she remained unyielding.

She told me that the melody of death now thundered too loudly to ignore.

She was no longer listening to life.

Life.

I stood on the beach where my father had taken us in our carefree youth. Mother was absent, battling illness, and father, consumed by his struggles, was either absent or at odds with the law.

I held a cherry blossom branch, tracing patterns in the sand, much as I did as a child.

I recalled the carefree days when we raced along the shore, our tiny feet pounding the earth, sand wedged between our toes. We'd scream and frolic, oblivious to the world.

It was the loudest memory I had.

I listened to the rhythm of my own heartbeat. A relentless, unyielding tempo.

Was this what Amei experienced? This feeling of quiet surrender?

Was she at peace?

I never truly knew her.

The world grew still and silent, my skirt becoming heavy and cold.

Then, I heard her voice.

"Can you hear the melody of Life?"

It was her.

Amei's reflection met the boundless ocean.

But this time, it was different.

Her composure faltered. Tears flowed, hands trembling, clutching a cherished childhood toy.

"Rei. I want to hear you live. I want you to live."

The taste of salty sea air mingled with the sting of tears on my cheeks as I stood there, waves crashing in relentless cadence. Amei's plea hung heavy in the air, her desire for me to live echoing in my ears.

It was then that I understood.

With each push, each shout, every cruel word flung at her, I had unwittingly muffled her connection to life. It wasn't her ailment that rendered her deaf, but my own misguided attempts to shield her from pain. In my desperate bid to spare her, I had unwittingly cut her off from the vibrant world around her.

As my gaze fell upon Amei's raincoat, a heart-shaped necklace caught my eye. It held an unspoken story, its small etchings a silent testimony to her solitary existence. I recalled seeing her, carving days into that pendant during our high school years.

As I cradled the raincoat, memories flooded in, and my eyes fell upon the necklace once more. It held a photo of us, our smiles frozen in a time of innocence. Etched behind it were the days, a countdown of her silent struggle. Amei, with her fading voice, had found a way to speak volumes through those small, deliberate marks.

Amongst her belongings, I discovered a note, left behind for me.

"Rei,

In the silence, I heard the truth. In the stillness, I found acceptance. You need not blame yourself, for we were both lost in our own way. Remember the days we laughed, the nights we dreamed. Hold them close, for they are the essence of us. Live for both of us, and find the melody of Life.

With love, Amei."

In that moment, my soul fractured.

For years, I had failed her. Neglected her. Pushed her away.

Now, on the precipice of death, I was arrogant, pushing her away, trying to replicate her pain, thinking I could understand?

That day, I fled, clutching her raincoat, my sobs consuming me.

I'm sorry, Amei.

I miss you.