I Swear I Won’t Bother You Again!

stroking hands, reflecting eyes, and calling names. Each of them is chained and stretched throughout the body. It is painful, heavy and inconvenient, and it seems like my body will be cut a thousand times just by walking around. My beloved hands, gaze and voice are all disgusting. I can't help but look at my face with joy, solidified like a doll.

─ ─ What should I say when I call for help?

I felt like I was thinking about that at that time.

× × × ×

I'm sure the tea ceremony ended in a peaceful and mild atmosphere.

Elephant is always in a good mood, just playing nicely next to Violet. That's right, touching my hair, stroking my cheeks, and being close, but I can see that it's not a lust that contains my heart. I don't think Elephant wants a 'substitute for someone he loves' like Bellows. Now Violet is not as vivid as his father used to be, and now that he's imitating a man, he's not old, he's just a beauty in a man's clothes.

I wasn't forced to do anything. It's just that I've always been poured with love that I don't understand. "Love", which you would have wanted so much and which you would still crave. There was a sweet and numb pain in my tongue. You want to spit it out, but if you force it into your throat, you can't breathe unless you swallow it.

The doll play named Elephant's tea party ended in about two hours. The smile never stops, the criticism doesn't come out of anyone's mouth, and the air doesn't bother me.

It was peaceful, calm, and beautifully finished ─ ─ Sacrificing Violet's existence.

"Nh...!

Leaving Parlor and heading straight for the bathroom. A small room in the corner of the Mansion dedicated to Violet since Bellows was alive. Only about half of the other bathrooms are large enough to use alone. A private room, next to a private room, decorated with items collected by Marine and bath amenities for Violet in the cat-foot bathtub.

I rushed in with my feet that were about to become entangled and leaned against the polished sink.

"Nh, geho...! uhh... uhh"

With the discomfort of being stirred up in my stomach, I coughed many times into my nausea. I heard that vomiting in the sink is not good, but I can't afford to worry about it. But nothing comes out of your empty stomach, whether it's luck or misfortune.

I want to spit it out because it's the blood that goes around this body.

"Goho... hah, ah..."

Disgusting ─ ─ Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. Everything in this body, hands, feet, hair, eyes, from the tip of your head to the tip of your nails, is disgusting.

Even if you stick your face in the sink, all you get out of your mouth is stomach fluids and swallowing. The feeling of vomiting is constantly attacking, but I can't find a way to eliminate it. How easy would it be to open your chest and cut out your heart? If you could replace all the blood circulating through your body, how could you?

…………

If you give up vomiting and raise your face, you'll see a woman with grey hair in the mirror in front of you.

It may be beautiful. Maybe it's so beautiful and glossy that everybody's scared. Perhaps it combines beauty that many people want and give up if they don't get it. It may be a gorgeous figure that attracts your eyes, takes away your heart, and makes you want to hang your head.

Even the shattered appearance is more reminiscent of disgust than disgust. I'm sure no one knows how sad that is. No matter what you do, it's not synonymous with what you can't miss.

Rigid and cold mirrors, reflecting yourself. There he is, the inverted self. Slide your fingers to trace the contours of the person you see.

Color of eyes and hair. The shape of the eye. Hair quality. It gives people the impression. I see, indeed, I am very much like my father. I can't believe you feel the shadow of someone you hate so much.

─ ─ I didn't need such beauty.

"Hmm..."

I don't want to see it, I don't want it, I want it to disappear. With that heart, I kept beating myself, flipping over and over again. He didn't disappear as naturally, but he kept beating and bleeding on the side of his squeezed fist. Along with a small sound, a single crack cuts Violet's face.

"Nh, uhh..."

I look at myself being cut, and I sit down like I slip. I don't know if it hurts or if it's cold anymore. I can't even tell which senses are working properly, which ones are all broken, and there are so many aversions running around my head.

I hate this house. My mother hates my father. I can't like my sister without resentment. A year ago, I hated all the princes who didn't love me, the friends who returned their hands, the justice who only victimized Violet, and the gods who didn't help me.

But the truth is... Even now, a year ago, a long time ago.

This hair, this eye, this body, this face. Everything about Violet.

I hated it the most.