I've a grand memory for forgetting.
Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.
[♥] So much time had passed, so much time indeed. Yes, it was all perfectly clear to her, the time she'd spent in the high school of mutual killing. Each agonizing second still played before her eyes, inciting terror in her very core. There were things you'd never forget, not so long as you would live. It could be something as simple as scraping your knee the first time you fell off your bike -- with her father so busy, there had only been sprints down the sidewalk that wound around their apartment complex and a sloppily placed bandage emblazoned with cartoony animals. It could be something as simple as the first time you held hand hand with your crush -- what a mess of clamminess and awkwardly groping fingers that had been. If only these simple, pleasurable things were what had imprinted themselves on the insides of her eyelids, that reminded her of of a happy childhood.
But it was certainly more than the horror of Hope's Peak. What a falsely named place ... the lie fitting its true nature well. It was a school whose appearance was so alluring and attractive, only to hide a bloodbath within its walls. Sayaka herself had been the first to donate her health to the cause, the feeling of cool, dull metal piercing velvet flesh, tearing into muscle and tissue still agonizingly clear in her mind. Oh, god, if only she could forget that burning anguish, that fiery flash of pain. How desperate it had all seemed, how full of terror she was and how pitiful the shrieks that had reached deaf ears were. Protests and claims to her eternal will to survive had been heard -- but only by her murderer. Kuwata Leon, the boy who seemed to only breeze by, controlled by his whims and nothing more. No, she wouldn't dare devote a second of thought to him. Where was the need, anyhow? He was six feet under by now, his body beaten to a pulp by sick means of torture.
Well, he got off the easy way. Bitter with the weight of her loss, the robbery of any semblance of peace that death might have brought, Sayaka couldn't help but think of the boy with contempt. What a fool -- he'd been so carefree in his life style, dabbling in music as if it were a mere hobby, something to do on the weekend. The only thing he'd had to truly live for fun, and it seemed unforgivable that after taking her dreams away, he'd only have found solace in the grave. It might have been better, seeing him suffer. Sure, it wouldn't be any kind of cure for her ache, but it might have given her some kind of pleasure in knowing that with the demise of her career, he'd have lost more than just his life. It's not even fair, it's really not fair. Slender digits raised her smooth her porcelain features, the lines of panic already beginning to mar their delicate beauty. It was one thing she had left, the looks of a precious doll. This wasn't something she'd allow to be taken from her, not until she met her doom.
"Nothing else, nothing else at all." It was an eerie thing to say, this she knew. Sayaka might not have been in her right mind, but if there was one thing that was aware of, it was her own actions. Under close surveillance, she was -- almost as if nothing had ever changed. Only now the watcher was herself, the camera to smile for nothing more than a mirror. It was an empty gesture, but it made her feel a bit less freakish, a bit less displaced. Who could refuse her that? The simple pleasure of familiarity? No one. There wasn't a soul to stop her, regardless. Dwelling alone for the majority of her day sure did have its perks. Pressing on the sterile wad of cotton caked into her wound, it was without but deep thought that she recalled upon the fact that not a single living soul came to do more then change her bandage and make sure she wasn't pulling any stunts. Agency's orders -- no one would mess with their starring idol until she was recovered or face the consequences.
"Time for medication." Directing her attention towards the screen of her phone, the only condition of her arrangement with her employers being that she stay under their set regime for recovery. it was with a sigh of resignation that Sayaka fumbled for the nearest capsule of pills. They wanted her back in the peak of condition as soon as possible, but she doubted the possibility of such a thing ever occurring. Sure, there was a chance that the open sore would heal without leaving much of a mark. But would that erase these horrible, haunting memories? No. Nothing ever would, and she knew it. I should have just died when I had the choice ... no matter what I told him that night. I didn't know what I was saying, I didn't. I don't want to live with these things still dragging me down. And that was the simple truth. The only way she'd ever recover was through her demise, but her own cowardice wouldn't permit it. A girl of her word, that's what she was.
"I want to stay alive!"
Those false world still rang in her ears, not the melodic words that she was accustomed to hearing when things became too monotonous. Give credit where credit was due, that rich tone she'd made her music with for years had stayed, too. Great. Maybe she could sing all her problems away and live with all the little bluebirds who would accept her with open arms - erm, wings. This wasn't some kind of kid's movie, it was real life. Every inch of her sore body was proof, sucking her back into the real world if she dared try to leave it, if only for a moment. Another reason that he's too lucky to be dead ... I don't think I'd wish this open too many people, I might not even wish it on him. But death's too easy, and it's not fair that I've been left to deal with the aftermath of a need to survive.
Replacing the bottle, medication taken and her mind sufficiently put to ease, it was then that the bright idea hit her to pay a visit to the very origin of her sanity's demise. Of course she knew full well it was anything but healthy, she also knew it was something to do, and something that might keep her from rotting in the bed she'd been condemned to stay anchored to. Besides -- Hope's Peak could always use a spare idol. Careful not to let anything tear, hindered by her wound completely, Sayaka managed to get herself standing -- straight enough -- and ready for the walk that would ensue. There was no way she'd be taking a street car -- she'd be too easily recognizable. Smoothing her ianthine mane with a small, pale palm, she didn't waste much more time in the confines of her living unit. Passing herself off as amiable as possible, making idle chit chat with the occasional tenant on her way downstairs, she was able to slip right out the front door without much fuss from anyone.
Fresh air. Was this what that felt like? It seemed like it'd been too long since she'd been out and about, covered by a shroud of clean and cool atmosphere. Walking purposefully, though not with too much speed as it might come off as a bit suspicious -- heavy layers and a brisk pace? didn't look good. The air was chilled, which was cause for many to replicate her gait. Not that she'd noticed, anyway. It just seemed a lot faster after a few minutes in on her expedition in terms of foot trafficking .... But soon enough, it was with a shock of realization and some internment that, nearly an hour later, she had no strength left to finish the journey. A bus would certainly need to be in order,That is, if she wasn't keen on passing out underfoot of all the citizens passing over the asphalt.
Ducking over a lidded stop, it was when the whole situation really hit her. The frail frame shuddered at the thought, leaving Sayaka to shake life a leaf for all to say. At the very least, she had a chance to pass it off as this weather -- it was barely above freezing, if she had to venture a guess at the temperature. Then again, without much on her bones, she wasn't the best person to ask for a weather forecast, she supposed. Waiting for the next shuttle to arrive, she didn't do much other than hum -- a way to pass the time that she'd always been fond of, considering its musical lull. When the bus finally did some, she hardly saw it as a reason to open herself to human interaction. Despair's empty resting place was too close by, too intimidatingly close. Is it too late to turn back?
The answer, of course, was yes. Her stop was called, prompting a tinge of regret in the pit of her stomach. Cautiously, timidly, painfully -- Sayaka made her way off the bus and met the ground with a solid thud. Not bothering to cast a second glance behind her, she simply continued on her way, still all too familiar with the path it took to reach the long abandoned school. Tugging at the hem of her skirt, more a nervous quirk than anything, her unoccupied fingers searched for something to do, something to ease her anxiety. Perhaps it was just the eerie silence, or perhaps it was the fact that she could feel herself silently reliving every moment of her time as a student. Jaw clenched, she looked on in an attempt at indifference as the distance between both fabricated and artfully contrived works -- namely the idol at the place of her supposed death. A bravado was only a bravado, however, as much as she wished for the courage to face to school with nothing of the sort.
"I haven't missed it here at all ..." Close enough to touch the stone walls, Sayaka couldn't help but mutter to herself. Though many idiotic teens and brazen drunkards dare still trespass, she was fairly certain that she was close enough to being alone. Sure, there were undoubtedly a few animals that had made the place their new home, but no other human voices reached her. Resisting the urge to fall to her knees, the solitude refreshing in the aspect of having no one to catch you in a time of vulnerability, she continued her examination of the building. Running her hand over small cracks, tracing the signs of ware on the solidity of rock, she almost didn't hear the obvious struggle from a corresponding wall of the school.
Almost.
Spinning on her heel, Sayaka searched for some form of human life. Had she imagined that pounding, or was there really something that wanted in that badly? Perhaps it was a bird, miscalculating the width of room it had at its dispense in order to make its way inside. Taking care to make as little noise as possible, she peered around the corner with a puzzled expression. No, this was no bird -- the bang had been the work of a human, and a man at that. Only having seen a covered back and the hint of calf from her stolen glance, she gathered up enough of her dwindling energy to put on a smile. Greedily enough, she didn't wish to share the land while conducting her mourning. Besides, there was no way this stranger could understand to pain and suffering that this place represented -- but he'd never understand this. Therefore, it was perfectly necessary to put on a pleasant beam, perhaps flutter her inky lashes, and speak in a tone as sweet as sugar to get most to obey. Why would this man be any different?
"Excuse me, sir --" Rounding the corner once again, Sayaka extended a thin arm in hopes it'd be enough to reach his shoulder without too much effort on her part. Being rather small, it made it a bit difficult to go about such things. It was, in this action, that she caught a glimpse of the man's hair ... bright ... red ... hair ... well, that didn't seem too common. There was only one person she knew of which such a vibrant hue to their locks, but it was absolutely impossible that it was him, it could't be ... he'd been dead as a door nail for a long time. No, no, there had to be some kind of mistake, some kind of sick, sick mistake ... right? No, no, no, no ...
But it was all wrong -- it couldn't have been anyone else, but it still couldn't have been him, it just couldn't. Stumbling backwards, foot catching on the imperfections of the turf beneath her feet, Sayaka let out a shrill cry. Every muscle in her body tensed, save the jaw that fell agape. Azure orbs widened, swallowing her elfin features in their entirety. It was a blessing that she managed to catch herself before colliding with the ground, a blow that she might not have recovered from in this state. It all seemed so surreal, standing before the one who had taken her life, or at least thought he had. What if he'd try to finish her off, to end what he;d begun within the dormitories?
"NOOOO, DON'T KILL ME! YOU CAN'T KILL ME AGAIN!" Shrieking at the boy she'd believed to be dead for all this time, Sayaka cowered before him. Shrinking visibly, her body collapsing in on itself, she continued until there was no power left for her to tap. When her voice could no longer convey the insanity that his face aroused in her core, she depended solely on her increasingly weak actions to convey the hysteria that this reappearance had stirred in her. It felt all too staged, as if he'd plotted it all -- if he wasn't dead, had he known that she'd be here, too? It had to be that way, he'd come to finished what he'd started all that time ago, she just knew it. Anger and confusion followed suit, running watery trails down her porcelain complexion, taking the form of hot, pulsing tears that rolled off her chin. Not daring to allow any distance between them be bridged, not just yet, she sobbed from a distance. "I WON'T LET YOU, I WON'T LET YOU!"
Sinking to the ground, Sayaka could only manage muttered threats and pitiable whimpering, her mind locked on the last encounter she'd had on this land with this boy. The one that had ended with a blade to the gut, and her killing. Both hands went to the wound, protecting it to the best of her ability.It was clear that she was no longer present, no longer able to interact unless someone pulled her back. It didn't seem worth the risk, not with how she'd acted merely at the sight of Leon -- who knew what might happen if he tried to shake her from this trance?