{ ℭ a n d y } // Ele

Misaki Hatoro





Are you afraid of the monsters that lurk beneath your bed, the ones that camp inside your closet at the darkest of dusk. Wooden boards creek and floors thump due to their simple presence, your heart continuing to beat as fast as a stampede's hooves. Stiffled laughter emits from your surroundings as you tuck yourself further in ball of blankets you call your bed. A gleam, no, a shadow if possible in such a dark environment is seen out of the corner of your eyesight. Was it just you, or was something-- anything there. Slowly roaring builds-up in your ears as you hear footsteps. Getting closer, closer. Reaching your bed. Their breath hovering over your neck and sinking into your skin, allowing the surface of your collarbone to prickle in unease. The intensity of it all caused a bead of sweat to slowly dribble down the temple of your forehead, mustering up your courage you turn your head ever so slowly, your eyes tightly shut. When you finally feel the breath of your torturer you open your eyes, finding something completely different than a closet monster. Something much, much worse.

Staring back at you, is the one you've loathed for so long, she who you wish would never come back to this wretched life.
Yourself.

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I woke up in a cold sweat, my nightmares as inevitable as ever. Although my windows are locked tight I can still feel the daunting essence of dawn creeping upon me, once messy locks tied neatly in a french plait, falling past my elbows against my shoulder. There wasn't much to do in the Mornings except push myself up, reach for the glass of water I leave on my bedside table every night and pray it doesn't 'slip' through my butter-fingers. As I grasp the glass cup much too tightly I feel a jolt of pain splinter throughout each individual finger, ever so slowly reverting to a stinging unease as I lift the cup to my parched lips. Useless. Can't even manage to pick up a glass of water. Surprisingly there were no forming crescents under my eyes, although none that I could see of in the reflection that bounced off of the cup's surface. My gaze flickers around the room slowly, fingers still wrapped around the glass with stiff appendages. The surface of my floor was covered in a soft, although thick pink rug, such a simple yet beautiful theme. Although I knew the real reason for the rug, incase I dropped anything it would not break on contact nor leave that much of a mess. My bed was covered in slightly tousled knitted blankets, stitched with my own hands. The family crest displayed proudly in the center, never-the-less. Pillows as soft as a bundle of dove feathers, the luxurious room was one of my proud points. My walls were covered in a thin, although protective layer of pink and white paint strips; laced curtains covering the single closed window inside my room. Instead I began to stand, quickly tugging the quilts off of my numbing figure.

I stood, dressed in my usual 'royal' nightgown, not bothering to take out the band that restrained my hair, peculiar blue eyes opening wide to peer about the room once again. Slowly, although suddenly, I walked forward, opening the window and allowing the cool air to seep into my beautifully warm cubby-house. Lifting my chin I deeply inhale nature's gift to us, leaving the window open as I turned, walking to the door and tip-toe'ing my way outside, and down the stairs. Careful not to disturb my parents I quickly yanked out a milk bottle from the fridge, the intensely cold temperature causing my fingers to grip onto it tighter, another mistake as I nearly let it slip out of my grasp and unto the tiled floor. Rolling my eyes I made my way towards the table, quickly shifting out a carton of cereal and pouring myself a bowl silently. A boring, un-eventful morning as always, the sweets presented on the counter tempted me more than any other sugars in this Kitchen. Turning my head away from the sight I resist, although restraining my selfish needs was almost futile. Almost. Instead I downed my cereal, pouting as I made note of there being no sugar left to cook both cakes, and sprinkle upon my cereal with. Washing my bowl with unease and stiff movements I quickly shuffled my way up the stairs again, mind racing with thoughts.

"Can't even carry a pencil properly, how will she manage to cook?" "Look at how pitiful she is, no hope in becoming a tribute." "Disgrace." Gritting my teeth, I make my way up the stairs with careful, light steps; although I wished to stomp as loud as I could. So early in the morning I began my daily routine of thinking about others' opinions. Do they even know? Will they ever know? Realising I still have my gloves off my gaze wanders down to the burn scars that practically enveloped my tiny hands. Disgusted, I make my way through the hallway swiftly. Slipping my gloves on with ease the first time this morning, I walk to my closet; opening it to find the full-length'ed mirror that almost exactly fit my height. I stiffled a quiet giggle at the sight of me in gloves and a night gown, beginning to thread the hairband out of her hair; soothing my fingers through the braid and allowing it to fall freely, my crimson locks climbing down, down, down to my thighs-- just passing my rear. I make quick work of fluffing it up and brushing it before going through my clothing ever so briefly, pulling out my 'signature' stripped dress, quickly swapping it with my nightgown and brushing it off. As I tie the bow ever-so-precisely, my hands move to tug stockings up against my hairless legs. Looking down at my pink, long and manicured nails I allow my lips to quirk up in a tiny smile-- the process of getting ready for the day as quick as ever.

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The morning quickly passed, at twelve our Shop was practically buzzing with customers, browsers, and even the occasional shady 'higher-up', orders coming in as quickly as my sweet-tooth arises. Then the thought of lacking sugar me her like a tonne of bricks, rushing to my father quickly. "Papa...I'm going to go buy some sugar, we've ran out." I manage to muster out, my voice as light as a feather, usually it'd be carried off in the wind but my father managed to catch what I had said. "How tragic, go on then." He said quickly with the slightest hint of a smile. I rushed upstairs, my heeled boots clopping against the stairs with each step as I brought out a hefty amount of coins, walking through the backdoor, out the alley and into the main-street. Luckily the grocery store was only up the road, my feet taking off in a careful stride as I held the coins between my fingers with ease. Walking into the store as quickly as I came out, minutes later I found but a heavy bag of sugar in my hands. I jolted with slight pain, fingers and hands shaking as I made my way down the road, only to collapse and drop the bag of sugar; my face paling at the realisation of what I had done-- especially in public. As a shadow fell over my figure I quickly reached for the bag, wanting to sink into the ground right here, right now and never come back.