Chapter 23 : Don’t do it alone

Living at Lucia’s was more comfortable than I’d imagined.

While I wouldn’t call it happiness,
My life had undoubtedly become more comfortable and warmer.

Having meals prepared for me was a luxury in itself, but
Lucia also took care of all the household chores, the laundry, the cleaning, everything.

As if she didn’t want me to lift a finger.

We looked like a newlywed couple.

Sitting at the well-set table, I finished my meal and said,

“Thank you…”
“You’re welcome.”

Lucia had a strange habit.

“Thank you for the meal, Tanya.”
“Huh?”
“Hee hee.”

After we finished eating–the meal far more elaborate than a typical breakfast–
She’d look at me, her face slightly flushed, and say that.

It was odd that she thanked me for the meal she prepared, but… it seemed to be a habit, so I didn’t question it.

Anyway.
I asked cautiously,

“Are you… feeling better?”

I couldn’t help but ask.

Yesterday, on our way back from the academy,
We’d argued about who was prettier, and
I’d upset her.

She hadn’t made dinner, hadn’t hugged me, and…

“…”

I realized I was acting like a spoiled child and blinked, embarrassed.

This wasn’t right.

Lucia had no obligation to take care of me.
She was doing it out of pure kindness.

While it was human nature to want to sit when standing, lie down when sitting, and sleep when lying down,
I was being shameless.

Lucia stared at me, then smiled meaningfully.

And then, she answered my question.

“Well… not yet?”
“…”
“I think I’d feel better if Tanya said I was prettier.”

Back to that again?

It wasn’t a difficult request. But I couldn’t seem to bring myself to say it.

Calling someone pretty should be as natural as breathing. It was easy with Priscilla. Why was it so difficult with Lucia? Why couldn’t I say it?

I hesitated, then
Remained silent.

Lucia smiled kindly, as if she understood.

…
…
…

Despair always arrived unexpectedly.

It was simply my nature.

I couldn’t breathe.
The world turned gray.

Like being surrounded by smoke, I felt suffocated.
The colorless world pressed in on me.

I ran out of the classroom.

Would screaming help?

No. I knew better than anyone that it wouldn’t solve anything.

I ended up in the bathroom.

I stepped into a stall and pulled something out of my pocket.

I’d been expecting this.
Somewhat.

It had been a while since I’d last cut myself.
Not that I was a vampire or a murderer.

These bouts of depression and panic were routine, and I knew how to cope.

But I couldn’t just pull out a knife and start cutting myself at Lucia’s. I didn’t want to expose her to that.

The suppressed urge, now exploding, was making things difficult.

My body was so demanding.

I was tired of myself.

But I had to do what I had to do.

“Ha… ha… hmm…”

In a world painted gray,
The knife was my brush, my body the canvas.

Only when the crimson blood welled up from the cuts on my wrists or thighs, dripping down my skin,
Could I finally perceive the colors around me, the pain bringing a strange sense of calm.

The sharp pain, flowing out with the blood,
Was quickly replaced by a perverse pleasure.

“Ahh…”

I could finally breathe again.

I gasped, my mouth wide open.

I inhaled, exhaled, clenching and unclenching my fists,
Trying to draw more blood, and then… again…

“Titania!”
“Ah?”

My attempt to cut myself again was interrupted.

By an unexpected intruder.

I was dumbfounded.

In my haste,
I hadn’t locked the stall door.

But why was she here?

“Karen?”
“…”

I thought I was hallucinating.

In a world still devoid of color,
Only Karen’s black hair and eyes were clearly visible.

Beautiful.

I pushed the thought away.
It was inappropriate, given the situation.

I acted like a child caught doing something wrong,
Hiding the knife and my cut wrist behind my back.

But it was too late.
She’d already seen everything.

The air grew thick with tension, and
I blurted out an excuse.

“What are you doing here…?”

I’d said goodbye.
Goodbye, Karen. I’d said it clearly.

I didn’t want to be involved with her anymore.

So why did she keep appearing before me?

“What are you doing?!”

Karen, after a moment of silence,
Suddenly yelled.

I was startled.
She grabbed my shoulders and shook me,
Shattering my composure.

“Why are you doing this?!”
“I… I…”
“Explain…!”

Why was she so angry?
Why was she demanding an explanation?

I didn’t understand. And neither did Karen, it seemed.

We needed to
Bridge the gap between our perceptions.

There was nothing to explain, no room for misunderstanding.
She’d seen it with her own eyes.

Though initially startled,
I quickly regained my composure.

Staring at Karen’s horrified face, I said calmly,

“I like the pain.”

It was the truth.

“What?”

But Karen couldn’t comprehend it.

For someone as righteous as her,
The idea of someone intentionally cutting themselves and then saying they liked the pain was probably incomprehensible.

Karen would never understand
Why I did this.

But what else could I say?
It was the truth.

I suddenly felt the urge to make her uncomfortable.

I didn’t know why.

Maybe I wanted to tease her.
Or confront her.

Maybe I wanted to blame her, to say that this was all her fault, that I was like this because she’d left, and watch her wallow in guilt.

Was I seeking revenge?
To make her feel the pain I felt when she abandoned me? Instead of blaming myself, the pathetic, abandoned child?

My conscience screamed, but
It was drowned out by the dark desire that consumed me.

“I… I like doing this. It makes me feel better…”
“…”
“I have to do this.”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”

I feigned innocence,
Tilting my head as if genuinely confused.

I was being despicable.
And I felt a strange sense of pleasure.

Karen suddenly asked, her voice urgent,

“Then, the scars on your thighs… were those…?”

Was she asking if someone had hurt me?

My silent nod
Made Karen’s expression unreadable.

Was she trying to look concerned?

“Don’t do this alone.”

What right did she have to say that?

“Titania, this is a warning.”
“…”

I still didn’t understand Karen’s behavior, but
I understood that she wanted me to stop.

Not that I would.

Ah.
I had a brilliant idea. A way to
Torment Karen further.
To make her so disgusted that she’d finally leave me for good.

I forced a smile,
Trying to look pathetic.

And then, I said,

“Then… will you do it for me…?”

I offered her the knife,
Holding it out with both hands.

She’d told me not to do it alone?
Then she could do it for me.

Make me bleed. Cut me, stab me, anywhere. Make the pain feel good…

I had a feeling
It would be incredibly pleasurable.

But it didn’t matter if she refused.

She probably would. It was Karen, after all.

Then she’d lose the right to interfere. Whether I cut my wrists or my thighs, it wouldn’t be her business.

As expected,
Karen threw the knife away.

I chuckled, mocking her.

Well, asking her to cut me with a knife was probably too much, even for me. Especially after she’d only slapped me before.

And I realized once more
That Karen would never understand me.

As I glared at her, a mocking smile on my face…

…
Wait,
Why was she so close?

Her dark eyes glared at me, filled with anger.
Her calloused hands, hardened from sword training, were inches from my face.

Or rather,
Inches from my throat.

“Gah?!”

A strangled gasp escaped my throat before I could even process the situation.

She grabbed my throat.
Karen was trying to strangle me.

Was this… real?