Psycho's game (As the Gods will)

"It is real blood"

'Do you see this scar?' She says while pointing at the small dent on her forehead. 'I hit my head once, about ten years ago, when I swung on a fence. It bled pretty bad, my clothes and hands were covered in blood. That image is still in my head.' Amaya is hides hands under the table, he has not managed to clean his hands in the short period of time he spent in the kitchen. The girl grabs his arms and lifts them up, forcing his hands on the table, he would've been strong enough to stop her, but she already knew about it, and denying would not make her trust him more.

'What I'm saying is, your hands look exactly like mine back then, as well as the shirt you just hid in the kitchen. If you tell me the truth, maybe I can understand. Getting involved with the police is not my plan anyway.' 'You won't tell on me?' She shakes her head, her mouth one horizontal line, and eyes concentrated on the boy.

Amaya glances at the door leading to the living room, and back to Reika. His hands drag through his hair as he lets out a deep sigh. 'Alright, if you really need to know, I'll tell you the truth.' 'Oh, great. That was easy. I just hope you're not going to give me some bullshit story about helping someone paint a wall or whatever.' 'Why would I lie to you? It's not like you've held anything back from me at any point.' She looks up at the lamp above the dining table, it's an egg-shaped piece of art with white string and wires surrounding the light-bulb. 'Well, yeah, but I've never returned home suspiciously in the middle of the night, covered in whatever your excuse is going to be.'

'Okay, it is real blood,' she raises her eyebrows, eyes wide. 'But maybe not from what you would expect.' Resting her head on the palm of her hand, elbow on the table, she nods. 'Please continue.' This time his eyes are the ones scanning the room, almost as if to make sure that there are no hidden cameras watching them. 'So we have this friend, or atleast Ryota does, he lives two hours away by car, near where our old home was. And he and his family are extremely religious, so for every birthday, it is tradition that a pig is slaughtered, the blood caught and thrown into the bonfire to put it out. And afterwards, we eat the pork that was roasted above the fire. But it's the strongest person attending the party who needs to butcher the pig, and obviously I was the most muscular there. The problem was that I hadn't done anything like that before, and the animal was really fat, he could barely stand on those tiny legs.'

Reika is just nodding along, thinking of how some serial killers began with animals. 'I was told to slice the neck artery first, so it wouldn't be in too much pain, and I did cut it, but at the wrong angle, so the blood just sprayed in my face, and they didn't let me finish butchering it. It tasted great though, not the blood ofcourse, the meat.'

She leaned forward, her arms resting on the table and fingers intertwined, Amaya has hidden his hands on his lap again. 'There's barely anything on your face, how can your hands still be dirty? If it "sprayed" into your face, you must've cleaned it up somehow.'
"Well, shit.", he thinks to himself.

He has zoned out, still staring into her eyes, trying to make up something, should he tell her the truth? He clears his throat, 'There was never a pig.' She sighs, the corners of her mouth sinking down, her eyes nearly closed leaving two slits through which the dark circles are giving him a hard stare. 'I knew it, so you're not going to tell me what actually happened I suppose?' He smiles ever so slightly, barely noticable but very much present. 'I promised to give you the truth, just never specified the when.' 'So when will I hear it?' 'Soon. All you have to do is trust me. Think you can handle that?' She nods hesitantly.

'I will tell you, just not now, not while I'm still trying to piece together what happened myself.' The legs of the chair screech over the floor, as the girl leans on the table, lifting herself up. 'All of this was just a waste of time. I'd better get going, every minute spent here is another minute my mother could randomly check up on me anyway.' He chuckles, 'I know she's over-protective with her not allowing us to see eachother, but isn't that a bit exaggerated?' She lifts her eyebrows, making her eyes bigger again. 'You know she wakes me up at 6 almost every morning, right? That's...' Her gaze shifts to the blue clock hanging on the wall next to them. '..fuck. Only one hour away.'

She puts the teacup to her mouth and gulps down the beverage. 'Guess I'll see you tomorrow.' Amaya bites his lip, abruptly standing up. 'Wait.' With her body already pointed at the door, she turns her head to look at him. 'Why?' His feet move before he commands them to, squeezing him between the door and Reika. 'Because I've been sitting across from you for about sixty minutes, fighting the urge to pull you into my arms, and I can't take it anymore.'

She gave a half-smile, only for it to fade. 'How do you think I feel? Seeing you stare out of the window every morning, staring at me. And a few days ago you weren't there, not this morning, not yesterday, or the day before. Things like that can really fuck up a person.' He furrows his brows, thinking his teeth might break if he clenched them just a bit harder.

'No. You didn't care to look for even one second. Atleast I still tried.' She takes a step back, blinking away the water gathering on her bottom eyelid. 'I made clear what my feelings were. I broke up with you, I didn't say I'd never give up. You did, and yet, I could see your feelings fade. Trying a bit less every day, like a band-aid, instead of just ripping it off like I did, you slowly pulled on it. You knew it would only hurt more, and take longer, but insisted it was the best option.' Her lip trembles while a single tear drips down her cheek. He cradles her face, 'Why would it matter if you already let go.' 'Because I didn't. I think I've fallen in love and I fucking hate myself for it.'