* (♛) Pride ▬▬▬

It was around the time of truth when the lies began. It was around the time of loyalty where the betrayal started. That is all I remember when I think of the past.  Nothing has changed, nothing will change. Icy stares of everyone surrounded me like the air I breathe. Scars drawn by hate, covered me like a blanket, as I cried enough tears to fill up a jar.

Yet, when spring came, the beautiful, elegant cherry blossoms seemed to be the only thing that cared for me. It was my only door to truth, my loyal friend. It let me breathe in its sweet scent. The cracks in its winding branches looked like my own scars, and it took in my tears willingly. It comforted me, allowing me to feel kindness in some way.

But, in winter, the graceful cherry blossom tree lost its petals. The tiny pink angels that simply flew past me flew away for good. The door of truth locked itself up.

I walked home lifelessly, but before I could make it to my own front door, a few boys stopped me, mercilessly threatening me with a knife. ‘That’s her!’ One of them yelled. ‘That’s Mami Sasazaki! The wretched miser who decided to breathe the same air we do!’

‘What do we do to her?’

‘Why don’t we just add to her scar collection?’

‘That’s right! She’s got too many scars to worry about anyway.’

The tallest of the boys stepped out and rose up his dagger. ‘Stop, now!’ I screamed. But it was too late. I could feel the pain through to every inch of my body. They stabbed me deeply; I looked down to see blood splattered everywhere, drenching me. The left sleeve of my once clean jumper was fully soaked with my dark, crimson blood.

‘Why don’t we make another one? That wretch doesn’t seem to mind.’

‘That piece of misery is lucky we even wasted our time on her. Let’s punish her with a huge one down her leg.’

‘No! Put some on her face. Make that horrendous face into some work of art, like ‘The Scream’ or something.’

I pulled my left sleeve tightly and stood up. ‘No.’ I said with all the anger I could muster. ‘Go away.’ The boys looked shocked for a few seconds, then turned around and whispered things I couldn’t catch. Before I knew it, they turned back with solemn expressions on their faces.

‘We are sorry.’

‘Yes, we truly are.’

‘So let us bring you home and treat that terrible wound we carelessly inflicted upon you.’

I couldn’t believe it. It was like someone asking me to become their friend. One of the boys held out his hand to me, gently whispering: ‘Go on, stand up. We’ll take you home. Take my hand.’ I was overcome with so many emotions take I took his hand straight away.

Terrible decision. The split second that I touched his hand, he pulled me up and stabbed my other arm, the one he was holding onto. ‘Don’t think you can order me or anyone of us around.’ The tears that I held onto for so long simply fell.

The boys left, but I was splayed across the footpath, crying. Why? Why did the tree lock up its beauty? My own little door of truth. I felt like I was crying for the tree, as the tree couldn’t cry. Pain from my arms drove my whole body numb. My tears were mixing into the tiny river of blood that flowed from my body down into the drain by the curb. Stop crying. I told myself. But I couldn’t stop.

People passing by glared at me, saying: ‘What is such a disgusting monster doing here? Dragging its cursed blood along our beautiful streets?’ Why? Why did people have so much pride? Why must they be better?

Everyone had a beautiful apartment, with neatly trimmed front yards. They had proper furniture and beds to sleep in. They take one look at me, and turn away in disgust, nose held high. Pride. My own mother probably left me for damaging her pride. Everyone is just the same.

After my blood dried up, and tears could no longer come out, I painfully dragged myself home, the only place I could hide. The only place where arrogant stares of disgust didn’t bring me down.  But even so, it was the place where I was abandoned.