Original post: http://ks.renai.us/viewtopic.php?f=52&t=7281&p=145316#p145316
(TRIGGER WARNING; GORE, SEXUAL VIOLENCE, SELF-HARM)
I know that he’s still here. I know that he knows that I’m still here. I know he won’t leave until he finds me. I know that when he does, he’ll do to me what he did to Shizune. Maybe even more.
I can still hear his maniacal laughter echoing though my mind. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be so mirthful whilst committing such atrocities. Great, now I can hear Shizune’s screams again. Having been hidden in here this whole time, I can’t say for certain what actually transpired, but based on what I could hear, I can make a reasonable guess.
He entered our apartment alone. He wasn’t particularly subtle about it, but evidently no one in the other apartments was awake to hear him. We were awake though. Shizune, obviously, couldn’t hear the intrusion, but she was quickly informed. She told me to call the police and hide, while she went to investigate.
She never came back.
I couldn’t call the cops. We were having one of our altogether-too-frequent “bad signal days”. Shizune has been up to the apartment manager many times about it, but he insists there’s nothing wrong with the phone signals in the rest of the building. Shortly after, the power went out. Just another benefit of living in this shitty apartment.
It was then I heard her. It was muffled at first. I can’t say I’ve ever heard Shizune’s voice properly before, but I immediately knew it was her. She wasn’t far away; just on the other side of the wall, or thereabouts. I could hear her struggle. I could hear him utter his demented greeting in a low voice. I could hear everything as he forced Shizune to the ground and ravaged her. Violently. Mercilessly.
Though she had no way of conveying it to me properly, I knew that through her tears and whatever was covering her mouth, Shizune was screaming for me to run. To flee. To abandon her and save myself. I couldn’t. I could only sit here, huddled in the dark, crying and frozen with fear.
Shizune fought back. Something hurt him, and he growled in rage as he struck Shizune. Punches and kicks in cartoons always have those exaggerated sound effects. And yet, the sound of real violence isn’t too far removed from it. Twenty-seven times he struck Shizune. Or beat her with a weapon. Or smashed her skull into the ground. I’m not really sure which. But each blow landed with a sickening thud and, later, a crunch.
The screams stopped after that.
But it got worse. I heard the “schwing” of metal being drawn across stone. Or, in this case, a brand new kitchen knife being withdrawn from its sharpening block. Then I heard the squelches. The blade piercing Shizune’s body countless times; hacking… chopping… slicing… dismembering. I don’t know what he was doing with the pieces of my best friend, but whatever it was, it was endlessly amusing to him, causing him to chuckle with a low grunt at first, and building up to the maniacal laughter that rings though my consciousness now.
But you know what the scariest sound in the world is? Even worse than the sound of screams of torturous agony; of bones cracking; of flesh being rent in twain? It’s the silence that comes afterwards.
Hopefully he’s still where he was when he stopped laughing. The very thought that he could be moving around in silence, seeking me out at this very minute, all without my knowledge, terrifies me to the core. I have no idea how long it’s been since the apartment went silent. I dare not try to find out. I make each breath as shallow and as quiet as possible, remaining perfectly still so that he won’t find me.
It’s in vain. The door of the walk-in wardrobe opens impossibly slowly and I feel him approach my hiding place inside the washing hamper. Though there are several days of clothes covering me, he manages to reach in, grab the collar of my shirt, and heave me out with little effort. I feel weightless for a brief second before I land on the ground heavily, sprawled beside my bed. He grasps my shoulder roughly and rolls me over to face him, pinning me under his body. I open my eyes, and I gasp in shock.
His face lights up in a deranged grin. When he speaks, it’s in a terrifying mixture of a hoarse whisper and a menacing roar.
“Hello, Shiina! So nice to see you again, after all these years! How long has it been, Shiina? Nine years? Ten?”
Every use of my real name is emphasised; so much so that flecks of spit hit me when he says it. I look away in shame, unable to witness face of the boy I once knew contorted into this crazed maniac.
“Eleven years, Shiina! Eleven years I’ve been stuck in that prison. Eleven years I’ve been tormented by the other prisoners, by the guards, by the judges. Why’d you do it, Shiina? Why’d you put me through that? Why’d you tell them I raped you?”
The repressed memory bubbles to the surface. It was night, and I went to Hisao’s room. I bore my soul to him. I asked him to comfort me. We had sex. Awkward, guilty, empty sex. We both felt incredibly remorseful afterwards. Shizune didn’t know what had happened at first, but she knew something was wrong. It tore their relationship apart.
They fought. A lot. On one particularly bad day, Hisao told her how he fucked me senseless in his room while they were still together. Naturally, Shizune was shocked. She looked to me for answers and I broke down in tears. She kicked Hisao out of her dorm in her fury, and came to comfort me. She held me for what seemed like hours, until the tears stopped. She asked me to tell her the truth. And I said he raped me.
“You destroyed my life, Shiina! You know what happens to guys who rape pretty schoolgirls in prison? They get raped, Shiina. Day in, day out. And no one ever does anything about it, because in prison there’s a perverted sense of justice. Not even my own parents believed what I said! Meanwhile, you and your slut friend live the high life on the compensation that came out of my inheritance!”
I choke back tears as what little remains of my resolve crumbles.
“H-Hisao, I’m sorry… I d-didn’t mean to… I p-panicked…”
Once again, he laughs maniacally. He laughs so hard it brings a tear to his eye. Quick as a flash, though, he’s back to wearing the demented grin from before.
“You’re sorry? Well, I guess that’s that then! You’re sorry! It’s all better now. I can just go right back to living my life again, all because you said sorry!”
As if it was even possible, he presses his face right up to mine. I can feel his hot breath on my face as he continues speaking.
“But don’t worry, Shiina, I know you’re not sorry. But you will be. Once I’m done with you, you’ll be sorry you were even born.”
He reaches over me to retrieve a roll of duct tape from my bed, which he must have placed there before grabbing me. He unrolls a strip and uses it to bind my mouth shut. I push his hand away, but he simply grabs my hands and binds them too. I try to fight him off, to no avail. He’s too strong for me. Forcefully, he tears open my blouse and begins to fondle my breasts. He squeezes and presses roughly, using so much force as to be painful.
He kisses me through the tape, and begins to move downward, kissing and fondling all the while. When he reaches my navel, he stops fondling my breasts and starts to remove my shorts. I kick and scream through the tape, but again his strength outweighs mine and he manages to remove the garment, leaving my lower body exposed.
He breathes in deeply, savouring the aroma, and kisses the inside of my thigh, moving up towards my crotch but ultimately passing by it to go down my other leg, before reversing the action. For several minutes – or hours, I don’t know – this continues, after which he applies his fingers to me; feeling around, prodding, pressing, stretching. His kisses become licks, only now targeting my clitoris, which involuntarily swells and becomes more sensitive.
Tears stream from my face and I arch my back to look as far behind me as possible, so as to avoid watching the non-consensual act as it is performed. In retaliation, he bites down on me and inserts his fingers, curling them upward to forcibly extract as much pleasure as possible. I wince and try to cross my legs to block him out, but he forces them open and continues to violate me digitally. I begin shifting my hips to counteract his ministrations, and to my surprise he withdraws his offensive.
But it’s only for a second. In place of his finger, he jams his erect penis deep into my vagina. Were it not for the tape binding my mouth shut, I would have gasped. He starts thrusting, slowly at first, then more quickly and forcefully. With no way of stopping him, I lie back and take it, tears continually flowing into the carpet. Against my will, my body tenses up and my hips thrust in time to his. I can feel the sensation build up inside me, and I hate myself for allowing it to occur, even though there is nothing I can do about it.
Then, release. My whole body spasms, causing my back to arch, my eyes to clench shut, my bound hands to ball into fists, and my vagina to squeeze tightly on the invading penis. In turn, his penis twitches uncontrollably, shooting wave after wave of hot semen deep into my body. For a second, neither of us moves, too busy basking in the carnal sensations of orgasm.
Feeling returns to my body, and I feel him withdraw from within me. I sigh with relief that the ordeal is over, only to see him tear the tape from my face and pull me into a sitting position. He orders me to clean him, voice seething with hate. I turn my face away, but he forces it back and holds a knife – stained with Shizune’s still-dripping blood – against my throat. I open my mouth and lick and suck every last drop of seminal fluid from his penis.
I collapse back onto the floor, chest heaving with exhaustion. The bitter taste of salt and coins fills my mouth and nose, and I can feel his semen dripping out of my vagina. No further tears flow from my eyes. I’m all cried out. Nearby, he stands up and examines the bloody knife.
“No one can know about this, Shiina,” he states flatly. “I’m not going back to prison. Not ever.”
My eyes widen in shock. Oh, God, I’m gonna die! I’m-gonna-die-I’m-gonna-die-I’m-gonna-die! He notices my alarm and smiles a grotesque smile.
“Oh no, no, no, Shiina, I’m not going to kill you. That would only put you out of your misery.”
What was, briefly, relief, now becomes fear. My blood runs cold as I imagine what horrible things he can possibly do to me now. He continues speaking in his strange, new, emotionless monotone.
“I have nothing left to live for, you know. My parents won’t speak to me. My former friends won’t have anything to do with me. I don’t even have prison buddies that I can look forward to seeing once the cops find out what I’ve done.”
He sighs and flops to the ground, staring at his reflection in the knife. Suddenly, he doesn’t look anywhere near as crazed as he did before. He looks… unbelievably broken. Despondent beyond repair.
“I’m really the worst kind of person. Wouldn’t it be better if I just died? After all, I’ve done something really terrible now. Unforgivably terrible.”
He lets his words sink in for several minutes. I have no response. What could I say to that? From somewhere deep in my subconscious, words come to me.
“Don’t be stupid. A long time ago, I did a stupid thing. That’s the reason you’re here right now. All these years, I’ve been trying to figure out if I could… make it right somehow. Do you feel that way now? You said it yourself, you’ve done a terrible thing. We can try fixing them. I just think that killing yourself is the biggest regret a person could end up with.”
My voice catches in my throat. Oh my God. Am I forgiving him? After what he did to Shizune? After what he did to me? What the hell is wrong with me? I feel sick to my stomach. Still looking at his reflection, he smiles. Not a demented, vengeful smile. A sad, lonely smile.
“You’re so dramatic, Shiina.”
I notice he doesn’t emphasise my name this time. He stands up, knife still in hand, and looks into my eyes. Like with his smile, the dark fires of rage and long since burned out; in its place exists only a hollow emptiness. I stand, myself, and step over to him. I place my hands on his, and gently try to pry the knife away from him.
Unexpectedly, he leans forward and kisses me on the lips, then whispers “I’m sorry” into my ear. Before I even register what is happening, I feel his hands tense, see the crimson blood spurt from the wound in his neck, and hear the gurgles as his lungs fill with blood. He collapses, blood pooling around him as the last of his life force flows out onto the carpet.
I can only stare helplessly as the lights leave his eyes. Unable to witness Hisao draw his dying breath, I run from the room, only to encounter Shizune's mangled corpse, the word "slut" cut into her torso with wounds several inches deep. I fall to my knees, despite the warm pool of blood at my feet. I sob and heave violently, tears flowing again. Here I am, in a pool of my friend’s blood, violated, humiliated, and alone. The light of the dawning sun peeks through the blinds of the window on the other side of the room, and, as if timed to match, the power comes back on.
I reach for the phone on the countertop, and dial a number I haven't dialled in eleven years. The phone rings for a long time, before a sleepy sounding female voice answers.
“Hello, Mrs. Nakai. This is Mi – Shiina. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
“Sorry, dear? Whatever for?”
“For lying about Hisao.”
Before I get a response, I hang up. I look at the knife still clutched in my other hand, now doused in two samples of blood.
I close my eyes and raise the knife to my neck.
And I slice.