I Swear I Won’t Bother You Again!

When I was young, I expected the world to change in the morning. Everything rolls in the right direction and there's nothing to be afraid of. No one will be hurt, no one will be unhappy, and the world will be nice.

Then the sun rises, and you notice yourself sleeping in circles, and you want to cry.

The world hasn't changed, and it can't. Just endure that moment, endure it, pretend not to know your remains rolling at your feet. Until one day you'll never wake up again.

Good morning, Marine.

"Good morning. It's a bit chilly today."

Even the pain that makes you want to cry, one day you'll get used to it. The longer it repeats, the shorter the time it takes to get used to it. That way, one day you won't even feel the pain.

Everything yesterday was a peaceful morning as if it had been a dream. It dawns at night and it rains. People say it as if it were hope, but it is the beginning of the time to come again at sunset and fear heavy rain.

"I'll hold your knee. If you need it, you can leave it with the sender."

"Thank you."

"We need to change the bandages. Would you like it before breakfast?

I'll talk to you later.

"I was afraid. I'm ready."

Yesterday today, I was not confident to sit in front of those two. I'm sure Marine knew that, too.

Yesterday's memories are reproduced by sending a coma to Marine's slightly swollen eyes. When I looked at my right hand, there was a beautiful bandage wrapped around it, which made my white skin look more pathological. I don't feel any pain... but maybe I just don't feel it anymore. Yesterday it was swollen and bleeding. Marine's face was distorted by grief all along, but it wasn't as bad as it looked. I received confirmation that there was no abnormality in the bone.

(... yeah, it moves)

I grabbed it several times and tried to open it again, but it doesn't seem particularly problematic. I don't know what happens after a day of being used as a student.

Marine was worried that there would be no scratches, but for Violet, it's more than that. It disappeared with growth, but Violet, who was a boy, had several wounds. I spent the same time as Old's childhood, creating the same wounds and healing the same way. Sometimes my mother's nails got eaten and bled. Even though I was nervous about the slight difference with Old, I laughed happily at the wound I had, because I was such a person.

I was raised as a butterfly, not a boxed daughter. It's just a doll pushed into a box. I get tired of being thrown away and go to another person. It would be a pleasure to know what you needed ─ ─ if it was just a doll.

Violet is human. Unfortunately, a lot of people don't realize that.

(What should I do?

You must spend at least a year in this house. I somehow understood how Elephant felt about herself. I just don't know what you want. Now Violet is nothing but a daughter with a similar father. Even if she is alike, she will stay away from the sketch and will never be near again.

In the first place, Elephant doesn't need Violet to want it. Unlike Bellows, Elephant is in the first place loved by Old Man himself. What are the advantages of purposefully making a child born between a man you love and another woman a fake at a similar level?

Even if it is the same as when it was a doll, the cut thread does not return to its original state. Even if they were newly connected, what would they want ahead of them?

Whatever it is, if Elephant wanted it, Old would have offered Violet as a matter of course.

If that happens, we'll lose the way we cut ourselves off from this house.

(... heavy head)

Something pressurizes you, and your thoughts are blocked. Every time I try to think about what to do, I get in the way with dull pain. As if it was all in vain, the piles of experience are screaming, "Give it up." I know you can't listen to me, but my legs don't move anymore. You can't even lift your arm to cover your ears.

The outline is seeping. Slowly, it melts.

Like ice sinking in water, I felt like something was losing its shape.