𝐒𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 - ★彡[ᴀʟʜᴀɪᴛʜᴀᴍ]彡★

𝟎𝟐 - 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

Recalling every memory I shared with Inori would be an incredible feat, so I ask that you allow me a bit of leeway here. Along with that, I'm rather afraid that if I speak too much of the joys I shared with Inori, I will plummet back into the immobile state I had been in when she had first died. To summarize the events that occurred over the course of the next few months, Inori and I would often meet up with each other on the outskirts of town, in which I would provide a place for her to relax away from the troubles of her family while she would give me company during the hours of the day when I desperately needed to be free from the bonds of my own family—although I daren't say my situation was even comparable to hers.

Despite the romantic feelings that were beginning to emerge during this period of time, I knew that Inori didn't feel the same way in the slightest. It's hard to describe just in words, but the expression on her face when she looked at me was not one of love.

Detailing the experiences Inori had to suffer through in her life may be a breach of her privacy so I will simply say that under the smiles she offered to all, she was deeply tormented. Her father was extremely traditional and would often turn to physical means to get his points across. Unable to tell anyone about this for years on end, Inori presented a flawless and artificial version of herself to the public eye.

However, as with most things, there's only so much weight that a person can bear. If one constantly shoulders the weight of their burdens by themselves, eventually they will collapse and crumble, unable to stand again.

One night I headed out to the streambed in which we had first met to get some fresh air, only to find that she was there shaking uncontrollably from the agony of her wounds. All across her fair and porcelain skin were bruises and scratches that one could hardly bear to look upon, yet all Inori said was that it was her own fault whilst wearing a rueful smile.

"He loves me, doesn't he? M-my father must love me." Her bruises were a darker purple than usual, covering her beautiful soft skin.

"This isn't love, Sato."

Her face twisted into that of indescribable agony. "Then what am I supposed to do?" For the first time, tears streamed down the girl's face, her eyes turning red as she wept deeply in what she couldn't perceive as misery. "I don't understand what I'm doing wrong. I thought that I had turned myself into the idyllic woman that my father wished me to be, and I appeased every request. Yet even so, all he sees in me is a failure and a detestable child. A parent must love their child. There is no parent in this world that does not love their child, is there?!"

The moonlight shone down upon her, making her tears glitter like stars in the cold night atmosphere. I found myself reaching out for her subconsciously, but upon seeing how she was trembling, I drew back. "The world isn't as beautiful as fiction makes it out to be. Parents don't always love their children—in fact, some parents grow to loathe them and even kill them." If a parent can't have the capacity to love their own child, they should've never become a parent in the first place. Most people share that sentiment, but it doesn't change the fact that the children who were born have to suffer in a cold and abusive household. "Every child deserves a parent, but not every parent deserves a child."