Since I was little, I’ve wondered, why do we commit bad deeds? Why do we hurt people? But each person has an answer tied to their beliefs.
“Don’t you think the same?” I ask the corpse hanging in front of me.
A high school girl, still wearing her uniform. Her face shows nothing but pure apathy. A strand of saliva drips from her mouth to the floor, her legs adorned with rivers of red flowing into a crimson pool.
A high school girl with a pale, expressionless face. Her uniform is torn. A thread of saliva dangles from her mouth, suspended in the air, and her legs are painted by the crimson liquid.
“How clumsy of me…” I say, staring at the unmistakable absence of life in her eyes. The cold air, filled with the scent of raw flesh and blood, saturates the freezing room.
“Don’t you think this is a fitting place for you? Surrounded by the corpses of animals and their remains…” I remark, glancing at the severed heads of pigs and cattle in the room, along with their torsos hanging nearby. “You look just like these animals.”
Hanging from one of the hooks, the sharp metal juts out from her chest. I caress her cheek, feeling its chill, but an electric spark runs through my finger. Slowly pulling my hand away, I pace around the room. On a metal table to one side, next to a cutting board, there’s a butcher’s mallet.
Picking it up, I examine it closely. A rectangular head with spikes at the edges. An idea suddenly forms, and I stop when I return to where I started.
“It’s perfect… How rude of me. Would you like to see it too?” No sooner do I finish speaking than I strike her face with it. Fragments of skin, flesh, and blood splatter across the floor.
“Sweetheart, take care of your skin, or no man will ever notice you.”
A warm sensation blooms in my chest. My breathing grows heavier, and my arms move on their own, swinging back and forth, feeling every strike I deliver to the body.
This feels so good. I think, easing the force in my arms.
“Ha, ha, ha, for a moment, I thought you’d be boring, but in the end…” I run my fingers over my groin, feeling the moisture on them. “I like that… you clung to life so fiercely,” I whisper into her ear, not knowing if she can still hear me. “Even though there’s no salvation for you~”
Near the door, there’s a lamp, a bag, and a flashlight. From the bag, I take out a soda bottle filled with a transparent liquid. Upon opening it, the chemical smell fills the air.
I like thinner, but only from a distance and in small amounts. I spray the hammer with its contents and pull a cloth from my clothes to wipe it clean. As I clean it, I walk near the pool of blood to leave it there.
“All set, every piece is in place.”
At that moment, my phone alarm interrupts the harmonious sound of the fans humming. It’s very late. I gather my equipment, unlock the door, and leave the keys in the lock, taking one last glance at my creation.
As I step out, the shift in temperature hits me so strongly that I begin to sweat. I close the door, the click of the lock serving as my signal.
Walking down the alley, I glance up at the sky, its deep navy tones gradually softening into light blues with each passing minute. I untie my long hair, letting it fall free, and the pressure I felt immediately dissipates.
“Ah… I almost forgot, I need to meet up with her later,” I say aloud to myself. “I’d better hurry… although, I’m pretty sure she’ll fall asleep again.”
I step onto the street as if nothing had happened.
This is all you’ll ever have… A memory from the past surfaces in my mind. It had been years since I stopped to think about what happened that day, with that woman.
I recall the past"a dimly lit room in the middle of the night. A woman with long black hair, a gray trench coat, blue pants, and dark boots.
“You were impulsive and stupid,” her subdued voice pulls me back to reality. “But life will ignore you, as long as you remain in its sight…”
She approaches the door of the place, her footsteps echoing on the wooden floor, her presence simple yet imposing to anyone.
“Your power, your very existence… is a mistake, but…” She steps closer to me with a firm stride. “I’ll give you the chance to live. You’ll pay the price for what you’ve done.”
Fear, hatred, satisfaction"all those emotions were heightened that day. My parents were restless, and that woman left me with only one message before vanishing, taking a part of me with her.
Since then, I haven’t seen that woman, despite searching for her under every rock, as if she had simply disappeared.
The sun hits my face, the sight of people passing by me, some with their pets, others just running. My gaze drifts to the face of each person, taking my time to observe each one.
I see something in them, an emotion, a plan; satisfaction, things that don’t exist in my world. Those things were taken from me a long time ago.
I hate them all.
Alarm clocks are quite curious; there are days when they ring so loudly that I can't even close my eyes, and other days when they seem to vanish. Damn it, damn it, I’m already late!
I’m wearing sneakers with untied laces; one has its heel slipping out, and to top off my bad luck, I think I’m not even wearing matching socks.
The sounds of the city, the gusts of wind, the smell of smoke mixed with grease from the cars passing by, all accompany me as I try to walk without breaking into a run. My feet hurt, my legs ache, and my throat feels dry; everything is an unbearable torture.
My hair is soaked with sweat, shampoo, and water from rushing out. Ahead, I see several meters of cement, pavement, concrete, and metal, but not a trace of shade; the noise with each step, along with the number of vehicles passing by, surrounds me.
“This is the first time I’ve come to this part of the city,” I say, looking at the start of a slope.
The pavement is well-maintained. That thought crosses my mind as I notice there are no cracks or potholes on the streets. As I walk, the first signs of nature begin to appear.
The silence was such that my heavy breathing was the only thing I could hear. Halfway up the slope, I turn to one side, surprised to see what lies within the other houses.
Basketball courts, baseball fields, tennis courts, fronton courts"all inside the residences. I could hardly believe what my eyes were seeing, a world completely different from mine. I check my phone to look up the address I’m heading to.
I’ve probably gone off track… I think as the page loads, but the thought vanishes when I see my destination is at the very top of the slope. Well… I knew it would be like this… but I didn’t expect it to be so different.
I resume my walk until I reach a flat area. To my left, there’s a downward slope, and to my right, the upward incline continues. In between stands a house with a simple facade: a wooden gate framed by concrete.
I ring the doorbell, uncertain if this is the right place. Nervously, I wait for a response. The doorbell chimes, and a red light flashes for a few seconds.
It doesn’t even take a minute before the door clicks open.
“Good morning, Mikaela!” A girl with black hair, a white dress with a modest neckline, a blue ribbon tied around her waist, and sandals steps out with a smile. “Or does ‘Good afternoon’ sound better?”
Her voice and face are cheerful, but her gaze holds pity.
“I’ve told you not to look at me like that,” I say, giving her a light tap on the side. “You know how much it bothers me.”
“Ha, ha, ha, it’s the only look I’ve got,” she replies calmly, sending a chill down my spine. “So, shall we go?”
I place a hand at chest level to stop her. I give her a once-over before speaking, but not without taking a deep breath and choosing my words carefully.
“Why do you have to do this every time, Yami?”
It’s not the first time she steps out in an outfit straight out of a fictional story. She always carries a second outfit to change into after her little joke.
“Come on~ laugh a little; it’s fun to wear outfits like this. Or is it…?” Her voice drops slightly at the end. “Are you jealous that I’m…?”
“Just go change…” I say, annoyed.
Her name is Yamileth Iori Zaragoza. Her mother is Mexican, and her father is Japanese. As far as I know, she lived in Japan until she was fifteen, when they had to move to Mexico for personal reasons.
I met her a year ago when we joined the same class at university, but it wasn’t until six months ago that we had our first real interaction.
“Okay~, okay~, you’re making all the effort I put into this joke vanish like sand… While I change, come inside. It’d be bad to leave you waiting at the door.”
“Sure…”
I walk through the gate, entering a small yard with some grass and lots of plants scattered around. As I get closer to the house, a heavy feeling invades my body"it must be from the run I had earlier. I notice stickers with kanji on the walls, small enough to barely catch the eye.
“My superstitious mom says they’re for good luck,” Yami says, opening the main door. “Feel free to look around; I won’t be long.”
As she heads upstairs, the echo of her footsteps bounces off the walls, leaving me alone once again.
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Inside, a faint scent of cinnamon brushes against my nose, accompanied by the hum of air conditioning and an atmosphere that’s cozy yet chilly. Even though she told me I could, I don’t feel comfortable snooping around in a place like this.
The main room seems to be the living area: two large white couches, one single-seater, a glass table with a wooden base in the middle, and a rustic fireplace at the back. Family photos hang on the walls.
“It must be nice to live a life like this…” I murmur, looking at a photo that seems to capture Yami in her teenage years.
She’s by the edge of a lake, almost at night, wearing a yukata and lighting fireworks. The scene itself is beautiful, but her expression is strange"her eyes are void of color, and her skin is pale despite the light in the surroundings.
The fireplace has a mantle with more photos, but a small box cutter catches my eye. It’s about fifteen centimeters long, metal, with a diamond-shaped tip.
“My mom bought it, thinking she’d receive lots of letters like in Japan, but it turned out not to be the case,” Yami says behind me, touching my shoulder. “It’s pretty, but useless…”
Her gaze sweeps over the photos with an expression that’s cheerful but tinged with nostalgia. I notice her outfit: a black silk blouse with a V-neck, layered over a matching shirt to downplay her personality, paired with denim jeans and black boots.
“You were staring at this one, weren’t you?” she asks, pointing at the photo by the lake.
“It’s rare to see a photo of you looking so…”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” she says in a deeper tone. “That was my last year in Japan.”
For a moment, my blood runs cold, and my instincts scream, You’ve ruined it. I fumble for the right words to apologize, my restless hands playing with the letter opener as my gaze drops to the floor.
“You get flustered so easily, ha, ha, ha.”
In an instant, the tension dissipates. My body starts to warm up, my shoulders drop abruptly, and my eyelids grow heavy.
"You never talk about your past; it's hard to know what's a sensitive topic for you…”
"My life isn’t very different from yours or anyone else's…”
I place my hand on her waist and her chin, guiding her gaze toward the courts of various sports scattered among the nearby houses.
"You have a point~”
<->
A few minutes passed before one of her family’s drivers arrived to pick us up and take us to our destination.
It didn’t take long, but Yami was quick to react; she’s used to it, unlike me.
She practically had to shove me into the SUV. However, the driver tried to be polite, striking up small talk with me and asking Yami questions so I could chime in as well.
"I’ll never get used to this... "I mutter as I step out of the vehicle.
"My friends used to say that at first too. Now, they just see it as normal.”
The sun is at its peak, the heat from the pavement distorting the air near the ground, surrounded by laughter, murmurs, and children’s shouts. Amidst this chaos, it’s just the two of us about to dive into the fray.
"I haven’t been out shopping in a while... "I say, my concern about rising prices creeping into my voice.
"You barely make it to the end of the month, don’t you?”
"Yeah…”
She doesn’t just go to any place, and the same applies to food. While she’s not exactly picky, she has refined tastes. I should take her to a street food stand someday...
A mental image of Yami conversing with a street vendor flashes through my mind, and I can’t help but laugh at how absurd it looks.
She gives me a puzzled look, scanning the crowd and shops for the possible cause of my reaction.
"Never mind... Where would you like to go first? It’s still early; the peak hours won’t hit for another five hours.”
As she says it, her smile grows in a way that’s surprisingly wide there's only one thing that could mean, and it’s not good for me. After nearly a minute of walking toward the entrance, her expression changes.
"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?”
"You always do, that’s nothing new.”
As we walk, my gaze drifts from one point to another, stopping on shops or random people. I walk out of inertia, guided by Yami, and my mind begins to relax in that moment.
She’d probably have more fun with someone else. I know I’m not the most sociable person, nor the most talkative. I tend to stay in my own world, paying no attention to what surrounds me, not interested in the least.
I would understand if she got bored and wanted to head home early.
Out of nowhere, a pressure on my hand pulls me out of my trance. "Look at me, just at me." It echoes in my head. Why would she want that?
Confused, I try to catch a glimpse of Yami's face, but her hair obscures it. Indeed, she's applying more force; the creases forming in her hand show it, but it starts to hurt.
It’s just a thought without meaning. I tell myself, unable to fully grasp the nature of that thought. I glance at my guide for a moment, only to realize that we’ve quickened our pace.
We’re practically running now. Suddenly, Yami stops dead in her tracks. I collide with her back, startled by the suddenness of it. My pulse begins to race, and my body temperature rises.
"I know you don’t like crowded places~ "She doesn’t turn to look at me while she speaks, only continues to talk". Try to have fun, okay?
We pass by several clothing stores, her gaze shifts toward the displays, as if searching for something among them. We don’t stop, just glance at them out of the corner of her eye without taking the time to fully appreciate the options presented.
My attention drifts to the people around us, letting her lead the way gives me space in my mind to lose myself in my thoughts.
Tired faces, a few smiling, others clearly burdened by some sorrow or worry.
It’s all the same...
"Look, Mikaela. "She points to a boutique at the back of the plaza". I want to go in there.
In my life, I had never stepped into a place like this. Hallways full of expensive, eye-catching, and elegant clothes; every five minutes, I can smell them renewing the store's perfume, just like the employees' rounds through the aisles.
They don’t even try to hide that I’m the one they’re watching, I think to myself as I feel the gaze of one of the attendants behind me.
"Yami… Did you find what you were looking for?”
"Not yet~”
I prefer to stay silent. Even if I tell her how uncomfortable I feel, she’ll keep going until she finds what she’s looking for. I’d rather avoid causing a scene. I know that if I mention the surveillance on me, she’ll do something about it and try to fix it.
I remember a few months ago when she stood in front of the university director just because they wouldn’t let our group in for being late. While she saved us from having to take a missed exam and fail, mentally, I took note of how far she could go if she set her mind to it.
Calling attention isn’t my thing. I walk close to Yami, who’s looking at dress after dress, but the colors she’s picking don’t suit her. Yami looks best in cool tones, especially whites and blues, but never in any other color.
"What do you think of this one? "She asks, holding up a black dress with red details". Do you think a little more red would look good on it?
"For matching colors, that’s why there are so many tailors in the country.”
She only responds with a smile, not even glancing at me. That’s what irritates me about her"although she doesn’t mean to look superior to me, she ends up doing so in some way.
"You’re right, but what you buy at a boutique shouldn’t be altered... it’s a sign of disrespect for the person who made it.
Silence is my answer. She always makes comments like that, “I think it would look better…” but she never alters anything she buys. I didn’t think she did it out of respect, more out of laziness.
"You surprised me…”
"But… "She says, holding the dress in front of me, I can see her concentration on her face". Yeah, it looks good.
<->
"Don’t look at me, I’m not good at this, I don’t have any talent…" Those are the words I often hear from Mikaela. She has no respect for herself at all.
"Yami, that’s really expensive… I couldn’t… "She says nervously.
I don’t care what she thinks, it’s annoying, unproductive, but more importantly, it’s not what I’m looking for.
All conscious beings in this world possess “a void” within them. A gap, a flaw in life itself. I can’t understand how something like this can exist. A flaw should be corrected immediately.
As long as it's in your sight, you won’t die. That’s what that woman told me about life, as if it were more of a force than a concept itself. But not everything she said was something I didn’t understand.
"Hey, beauty~ "A man says behind me", don’t you know it’s not safe to walk around at this hour of the night?
Dressed completely in black, he approaches, smelling of alcohol. His movements are erratic, telling me he didn’t plan this at all. He’s improvising. I let him come closer on purpose, he’s just another drunk.
"Well… What’s so dangerous in the city? "I reply sarcastically, looking him in the eye". You? But you’re handsome, just my type.
I let my weight pull me closer to him, confusing him. Once he’s flustered, he grabs my arm and pulls out a knife, threatening me with it.
"Compensating for some complex~?”
"Shut up!”
Before he can respond, I grab his arm. A sharp electric sting in my fingers is the confirmation I was waiting for.
"You know? We’re all weak, some good-for-nothing. "Looking at him, I can see black lines drawn on his body, like smoke. When I look at his arm, I notice the smoke is spreading uncontrollably". But you’re trash, you couldn’t even rape a defenseless woman, your ego betrayed you, you’re a complete failure. I bet you want to feel my body, my warmth…
Without stopping my speech, I grab his other hand and place it on my chest, shamelessly making him massage it.
"So? Is this what you were expecting?”
His face gets paler with every passing second, his expression pure terror, and the lines begin to overflow, spreading that black smoke all over his disgusting body.
"Get lost, do the world a favor and die.”
I let him go, throwing him to the ground as I start walking towards my house. The dark night, the moon lighting my way, the cold air hitting my agitated chest.
Now, that got me excited. His fear, his anger, but most of all, his initial thrill. I felt it, and I made it mine. For the first time in a long while, I felt something. That brat was a waste of time.
The closer I get to my house, the more the excitement builds, intensifying, making my heart dance. However, the good moments never last long. I see my mother standing in front of the door, with her bodyguards standing by her.
“Do you know how dangerous it is to be out at this hour?” Her expression remains one of displeasure, but not true concern. “Three hours last night, and three minutes now. Care to explain what you were doing?”
The low light makes me think she’s holding something in her hand, but I dismiss it immediately. She’s wearing an expensive pajama set, and she wouldn’t ruin it for something so trivial.
“Don’t you worry too much?”
“Shiro…” she says, her voice tinged with a mix of disappointment, fear, and anger. “Should I remind you of what happened seven years ago? I can’t let this slide again…”
Her words touch a nerve, but despite my desire to get angry, I just can’t feel it. Even though I want to laugh, cry, or curse, none of it comes.
“Don’t use that name…” I walk beside her, not looking at her. “She died that day… just like my emotions.”
I see my left eye reflected in her gaze—an eye with a pink iris. I force myself to calm down as I walk toward the porch, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind.
Damn it, I can’t get this out of my head… I reach for the door and as I touch the handle, my phone vibrates. Pulling it out, I see a message from Mikaela.
“See you tomorrow. Don’t forget the bandages.”
She’s always so direct with her words. I like that about her, or rather, it’s one reason without much weight. Every person has a different void within them, varying in size, shape, and origin.
But they reveal what people hide underneath, their dirty secrets, the things they dislike about themselves. They’re all the same. In four years, I’ve met countless people, each one possessing a void.
Until I met her. Mikaela Miller, the only person in this world without a void inside her. The only pure woman in this rotten world.
I could see her completely, no trace of those black lines on her body. Authentic, beautiful, but above all, profanable.
“Heh, heh, counterplay…” I mutter, as I enter my room.
Just imagining the possibilities of corrupting her. I think, heading toward the mirror in the room. As I look at my reflection, my pink iris catches my attention, a reminder to calm my emotions.
Taking a deep breath, I raise and lower my hands, trying to keep control of myself. After a minute, I open my eyes again, and see that my iris has returned to its normal gray color.
“God… I hate being so impulsive,” I say as I fall back onto my bed.
<->
I walk through the yellow light of my room, avoiding the dirty clothes scattered on the floor, and the trash from what I ate earlier.
She takes me where she brought me… Why am I so tired? I ask myself as I approach my bed. In my memories, all I did was go to a mall and run in a specific direction in Naucalpan.
“Wait… why the hell did I go to Naucalpan?”
Doubts pile up one after the other. I remember how I moved, but… I know I was with someone, but who was it? By instinct, I turn my head.
Hanging on her bag, there’s a black dress with red accents. Suddenly, my phone buzzes. I check it and can’t help but smile.
“Had a great time today. Won’t forget the bandages. And just so you know, I haven’t put on my pajamas…”
Yami always making her jokes. I’ve even reached the point of thinking she’s bi. But that’s beside the point, she’s a good friend, always looking out for me.
“I don’t care.” I reply, tossing the phone onto a pile of dirty clothes on the floor.