Sayu changed out of her pajamas and into her school uniform; Asami, lacking any other options, borrowed a sweatshirt and bottoms from me.
“I’m sorry. That’s all I’ve got. At least they’re clean.”
“Smells like old man.”
“Seriously?!”
“Worried? Lol.” Asami cackled before adding, “I was just kidding!”
A high school girl telling me I smelled like an old man was way too realistic to laugh about. If she wasn’t serious, I wished she’d spare me the confusion.
“Besides, Sasa was the one who washed this stuff for you, right? When I think about it that way, they smell so much nicer… Mmmm…”
“Your sense of smell is mega sus,” I said, only to be met with more cackling from Asami.
I glanced over at Sayu. She wasn’t quite back to normal, but Asami’s playfulness had brought a small smile to her face.
I was glad to see her looking a little calmer.
She’d just shared a traumatic story and thrown up. She might feel ready to continue, but I was hoping she’d take a breather, at least.
I’d gotten queasy just listening, and Sayu was telling the story. She must be reliving all those difficult experiences as she spoke. I was certain she’d vomited at that point in the story because she couldn’t help remembering her friend’s lifeless body.
The more I thought about it, the worse I felt that a teenager had been forced to endure something like that.
Asami wasn’t looking at Sayu, either, but it was clear that she was concerned. I could see her casually peering over at the other girl out of the corner of her eye as she made small talk with me.
We shared some friendly conversation for a few minutes after the two of them changed clothes; then we all fell silent.
After several seconds of quiet, Sayu spoke.
“All right… I guess I’ll continue.”
“Are you feeling better?” Asami asked gently.
“Yeah. I think I’ve calmed down.”
“Okay, then.”
Sayu smiled back at Asami, then looked over at me.
I was ready to hear the rest.
“If you’re good, I’m good,” I told her.
Sayu nodded. She took in a deep breath, then let it out.
Finally, she resumed her story.
Yuuko took her own life, and I was plunged into the depths of sadness and despair.
I had thought we’d run away together, but she’d left without me in the most awful way possible.
I’d believed I was protecting her, but I was completely oblivious to the true nature of her suffering. This filled me with sadness and regret.
I was so overwhelmed, I could’ve spent days—no, months wallowing in grief. But reality wasn’t so accommodating.
As the sole witness to Yuuko’s fall, I was immediately and repeatedly questioned about the incident.
My student guidance counselor, the principal, and the police interrogated me over and over again.
All I could do was tell them exactly what had happened, and it was heartbreaking to relive my friend’s death over and over again and have strangers speculate about my involvement.
Yuuko had been my dearest friend, but I could no longer think of her face without my stomach cramping up in pain. I couldn’t sleep at night, either.
A few days after Yuuko’s suicide, the media started gathering at my house.
Whenever I left for school or came back home, reporters and adults with TV cameras would be standing outside. It was like they knew exactly when to show up to catch me. I heard that even while I was gone, the doorbell never stopped ringing.
My mother couldn’t take it.
She already thought of me as a burden, and now I’d brought home even more trouble.
On the very day Yuuko passed, I tearfully explained to my mother what had happened. With a sigh, she replied, “Even you wouldn’t kill one of your classmates, right?”
I was so shaken by her words that my tears, which had been uncontrollable moments earlier, abruptly stopped.
“…No, I would never,” I replied with a small shake of my head.
I almost added that Yuuko was my only friend, but I stopped myself.
My brother, who was normally too busy to visit us, started coming by every day.
He would calm my distraught mother and come to check on me whenever he had the chance.
I cried into his chest countless times.
For weeks, I would see Yuuko’s name on the news whenever I turned on the TV, so I stopped watching.
I started to fear the sound of the doorbell and the reporters who would hassle me whenever I went out. I stopped going to school.
My mom, who sent me to class even when I was sick to keep up appearances, said nothing when I told her I no longer wanted to go.
I spent my days afraid of strangers and my mother’s bad moods and my nights terrified by the memories of Yuuko I couldn’t forget.
This wore me down and, in turn, took its toll on the rest of the Ogiwara family.
Our relationship was like a dam about to overflow, and one day, it finally burst.
I woke up early in the morning and entered the living room to find my mother sitting there, weeping.
“What’s wrong…?”
When I tried to ask what had happened, my mother lifted her head, which had been slumped on the table, and glared at me sharply.
“This is all your fault…!”
She always said things like that when she was upset.
I didn’t know the details, but I’d heard my birth was the reason for my parents’ divorce. That was why my mother never loved me.
Ever since divorcing my father, my mother suffered from regular bouts of emotional instability. And whenever she saw me during these periods, that was her go-to line.
“Your brother is doing a great job working to take over his dad’s company, but all you ever do is cause trouble for us!”
“I’m sorry.”
As long as I continued apologizing, my mother would be temporarily satisfied and go to sleep. It seemed these episodes took a lot out of her.
“Why do we have to suffer like this just because some girl went and offed herself…? It’s all because you pretended to be her friend, even though you don’t have any feelings!”
“…I’m sorry.”
I did have feelings; I just did my best not to express them in front of her.
If I held everything in, it would all blow over.
I thought I’d be able to endure it again this time. I just had to take her abuse until she got it out of her system; then it would end.
But…
My mom’s eyes suddenly went wide with shock as she looked at me.
This was unusual. Confused, I tilted my head slightly to one side.
“Could it be…,” my mother wondered aloud, “…you actually killed her?”
That was the last straw. I cracked.
Before I knew it, I’d run over to her and slapped her in the face. This was the first time in my life I had resorted to violence.
“Fuck you!! I could never do something like that!!”
It was also the first time in my life I had screamed from sheer rage.
I was used to her abuse.
But I couldn’t stand being accused of killing Yuuko. I felt like my mother had completely denied our friendship.
She had no idea how much I loved Yuuko.