crown [t. oikawa]

[one]

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I AM A GIRL WHO WANTS TO ESCAPE FROM THE DARKNESS. 

but i am also part of the darkness, so it is impossible. i can never escape from myself, no matter how fast i run.

this house is proof of that. even with its alabaster white walls, the walls are drenched in darkness and dark, dark memories. even though i tried to decorate my room once with fairy lights and polaroids of scenery that i wish to go to and all kinds of things that ordinary girls have in their room, a wall of the room cracked.

a big, black crack similar to lightning that still hasn't disappeared to this day. it was as if it was saying 'don't bother trying to change and hide yourself.'

mother and i didn't bother to try and fix it. to get rid of the warning. to get rid of yet another piece of darkness. because if we did try to fix it, we're both secretly scared that something more than the wall will crack.

but not ourselves though, because we already have cracked and shattered and fractured. and we are still cracking and shattering and fracturing so much, that it doesn't matter to us anymore.

but if it happened to someone other than us, someone that we loved, well, then that would be a different story.

but there is no such person who we love, because everyone knows what trouble we are. and so, we are isolated from society.

[sometimes i wonder what father was thinking when he signed that deal. then i remember that he wasn't thinking at all. he was just a hopeless human, acting out of the drive of love and desperation.]

putting aside the gloomy thoughts which i hated yet i was the creator of, i walk through my house to the living room. the house is silent; too silent, it always is. the house, with its elaborate and intricate décor, victorian style and beautiful outside, was always hollow and empty from life on the inside.

it is rather miserable and sad, but that is why this house fits my family well.

"mother, i'll be going now," i say quietly, kissing the woman on her head. mother is seated on the pristine couch and staring into empty space; she always is.

mother stirs from her daze slightly, her eyes void of emotion flickering up to glance at my face. repulse rippled across her face briefly before being disguised by a hint of curiosity. but it was too late; i had already seen the disgust on her face upon seeing me. and honestly, i don't blame her.

when she spoke her voice was hoarse and she paused in between words, as if she had forgotten how to speak fluently. "where...are you going?"

"school, mother," i reply, slinging a backpack over my shoulder. "it's the first day of my last year."

"but...i thought you were only a first year?"

"mother, that was two years ago."

not wanting to continue the awkward conversation, i leave the living room before seeing mother's reaction. i quickly slide my feet into the pair of school shoes before leaving the house that you could admire for years but never love, the house which i had lived in for years but i never called home.