When the Darkest Secrets are all White

Side Story - Mistake

I had made a mistake.

Nothing like a simple error – like on a test or a slip of the tongue. I couldn't correct this with an eraser or an apology. No. This was a true, irreversible fault that could haunt me for the rest of my schooling days.

I had to make the choice - to succumb.

No.

There was no choice. This wasn't an opportunity of two paths before me. This was my neck resting against the curve of the guillotine, awaiting the falling blade. If I did not play the role assigned, I would be dead.

This was my thoughts coming to finality – if only I was so understanding prior. I would have suffered a whole lot less mental trauma.

I had made a mistake. But...

---

It has been a full day since I learned of such a horrifying truth. Even though it was a Wednesday, and I should be happily socialising at school, I remained. I remained shut off from the world inside my four impenetrable walls. It was a cage.

It was my sanctuary.

Hostages have no use if the intended cares not for their lives.

Remembering that line caused my entire being to shiver all the way down to my toes. I leant against the wall and brought my knees to my chest. Even though my bed was warm underneath my legs, an encompassing chill felt like it was suffocating the room and I wished I could curl up in my sheets and dream the unease away. I would have spat out profanities to calm myself, but my abandoned, silent room wasn't so lonesome.

"Why—" I began sheepishly, my voice hoarse from its lack of use. I cleared my throat to re-establish my feigned control. "Why are you here?"

My question was directed to someone, yet it was ignored as if I was talking to myself. My mask was dropped – my true standard personality on display – I would snap at the object of my questioning with lashing irritation, however I refrained. Anger has no use.

"Hmm."

A hum was all I heard. I raked my eyes towards the figure standing on the other side of my room. The figure was leaning back against the pillar which connected the kitchen bench to the corner of the room, just by the entrance. Hands in pockets with one leg straight whilst the other foot was flat against the pillar. His body language was calm, which should be improper considering he was in a girl's room an hour before curfew.

Normally I would double-down and question why he was here, but previous experiences begged me to stay quiet.

God, I hate this.

I grumbled internally and let my face fall into my arms that were propped on my knees. My short, dirty, blonde hair splayed pathetically, finally clean of mud and rain. My raging emotions currently had no outlet, and it was agonising. I sunk my teeth into my arm, eyes closing, and pressed down until the pain started to distract me.

"Am I unwelcome, Kushida?"

His question startled me out of my self-harm and my eyes fluttered open. I raised my head towards him and immediately broke the eye contact which accidentally arose. Such an annoying habit had already settled into my persona. Acting like a filthy peasant before a king. My face betrayed none of my true thoughts.

"Oh no, you're fine, Ayanokouji-kun," I smiled sweetly.

I hope you die.

"Drop the act."

"Why are you here?" I questioned again, my fake persona evaporating immediately at his call.

He pushed off the wall and made his way towards the couch directly in front of me, about 5 paces from the edge of my bed. Since his arrival he had never been in front of me, always on the edge of my vision, making me crane my neck towards him any time I spoke. That all changed and it was as if an invisible wall had broken between us, allowing genuine conversation to come forth. He took a seat perpendicular with my body position and silently eyed me.