"Then... I'll see you around, Momoko-chan," Himiko said with a smile(forced, but not obviously so), and then turned, walking away and up a nearby flight of stairs, preferring that to an elevator.Luminesa wrote:Charlia wrote:They were back at the hotel at last, Himiko rather exhausted(although she was hiding it) and Momoko still just as cheerful as ever. She'd bought something, but she'd hidden it in a bag and Himiko had absolutely no idea what it was.
"...That was fun, wasn't it?" she asked Momoko, her tone light even though her heart was heavy. "I wish we could do some more stuff together, but I have some other things that need doing. I guess I'll see you later?"
Momoko nodded, holding a bag with something in it. The black bag was large, and it indicated something expensive, but she had only shown Himiko the price tag. She would have to show her later. Something about the trip made Momoko feel playful and a little mischievous, and she was excited about what she had bought. Today thus far had been a great day, even though she had nearly died a couple of hours ago. Life was good...for now...somehow.
She doesn't love you.
Himiko's steps were heavy as she walked the halls of the hotel. She couldn't return to the room she shared with Momoko, not after what had just happened. But she wanted to curl up in bed and cry the way she used to when she was still living with her father, the way she would after he finished yelling at her and telling her how worthless she was.
You're not good enough for someone like her.
She knew that was true, now.
You're too damaged for someone like her.
She approached a door at the end of the hallway and reached out, touching the lock and creating a key of ice, one shaped to fit with the contours of the tumblers and open the door for her. Once inside, she walked over to a full-length mirror and looked in. The shell looked back.
You poured out your soul for her, and she doesn't love you.
She wore the same black headband and purple, black, and white costume, she stood about the same height--except the girl in the mirror was drooping slightly, like a girl who had just finished carrying blocks of concrete on her back. Her hair was still long, thick, and black, but looked less sleek than it should. Her eyes were still that same misty purple, but they were lifeless. She found no pleasure in seeing her own reflection. Why were mirrors so constantly truthful?
You would do anything for her, and she doesn't love you.
She reached into a hidden pocket in her skirt and pulled out a photo of her and Momoko, two happy people, looking like they should have looked. She brushed the surface of the picture as if uncertain of its reality.
You would die for her, and she doesn't love you.
It was real. She put the picture back in her pocket. She was sick of reality.
She will never love you.
And it's your fault.
With that thought, she collapsed onto one of the beds, unleashed the emotions she'd been hiding for Momoko's sake, and began to scream, using the pillow and the blankets to muffle her cries, violent, pitiful, originating from a place in her soul that she had not known she had, a place she wished she had never known she had, as if insanity had knocked on the door of her mind and then simply broken it down. When she could no longer scream, she just buried her face in the pillow. Like light through the window of the room, silence streamed in as she closed her eyes, feeling tears trickling under the lids and wishing for a sleep that would take her to dreams of a happy life, one where Momoko loved her and everything was bright and beautiful... wishing for a slumber so deep that she would never wake from her dreams again.