Disclaimer: I own no part of Yami no Matsuei. This story is for entertainment only.
AN: Please go to the second chapter to see the Author's note. Advised to do so after reading the revised story as it explains some questions that have been asked.
ONE LAST TIME
I knew you were her the moment you stepped beyond the building's threshold. Even crowded among the sea of other thoughts I could pick you out. Like a shard of razor glass among dull diamonds. I've felt your hate for over a decade. I'm intimately familiar with the feel of its blade.
Even though, with every step, that blade became ever sharper and colder as you came closer, I wished that you would come to my room this time.
I know you only come to speak with my ever-confused doctors. You've always insisted on being well-informed about my deteriorating condition.
Maybe they will convince you to see me this time.
There is so little of me left now.
I feel like an empty shell.
It doesn't matter if you hate me. It doesn't matter that there is no shred of compassion or affection for me in your heart.
I just want to see you one last time.
I don't have long.
I don't know how I know. How does anyone know they know anything? I just know there isn't enough left of me to last until your next sporadic visit.
I want to see you walk through my door. I want to see your face.
Some part of me would even like you to hug me.
I don't care if you don't mean it.
I don't care how much your hate will hurt me.
I just want a hug like you used to give me so long ago. Before you couldn't stand to touch me.
Before you hated me.
Maybe I could pretend – just for a moment – that you still loved me.
Just as I could feel when you entered the building, I could also feel when you left it.
The last of my strength went with you.
Hope, after all, is a fire, and it consumed that last little bit of me that was left.
Maybe… maybe it's better this way.
Yes. It must be better.
I close my eyes.
Take a shuddering breath which causes all my ribs to hurt.
Let it out slowly.
… one… last… time…
……
…. mother…