Don't Leave Me
A simple three words repeated in my head for so many days, days that turned to weeks, which in turn turned too months, and then finally, turned to years. And all the while, all I could think were those three words.
It actually started before she died, before Kyoko Honda died. My mother. It happened all the way back when I was three, when my father died. She almost left me then too, and I remember it all so bitterly. The need for her beside me, the selfish desire to not have her taken away. Those feelings were childish, and I hoped never to come across them again. Feelings that made me believe that my own father was a bad man, a villain, in my eyes. The eyes of a three year old losing her mother. Sometimes I would sit at the table and silently eat and she would never be with me. She was always weeping back then, sadness etched across her beautiful features. It was hurtful to see her in such pain. It made me cry too.
The only other time I finally got to see my father again, he was cold, and in a casket. And I kept thinking, don't take her away. Please don't take her away from me. I would plead in my mind, and say those things, almost believing them as I sat away from the casket. That was the day that changed my life, I think. A day that told me that I was actually worthless in a way. What a sad and bitter day it had been.
Two women sat before me, I guessed that they had been related to Katsuya, for they spoke of him. But, that wasn't the point. The point of such a memory was the things that they said, and thought that I didn't understand. The words that went straight from my ears to my heart, piercing the organ with a jab of hurt and pain. They spoke their words so harshly, their voices bitter as they spoke of me in a very cruel way. I can only remember the words so clearly, not the faces which spoke them.
"She doesn't remotely resemble Katsuya."
"Maybe she's some other man's child."
"Her being like that won't make for any sort of consolation."
As they spoke of me in such a cruel way, my heart bleeding out sorrow, I knew that there was one way I could make my mother happy. Perhaps I could begin to act like my father perhaps that would make her joyful again. If I spoke like him, would she smile again? If I was polite and kind, would my mother come back to me again? Such things were not foolish to me when I was a child. Some part of my mind had made them correct. And I began to act like him. I spoke like him, so polite, so nice and gentle. And eventually, my mother came back. But even if I had only known that it wasn't because of me, but because she had realized something herself, I wouldn't have stopped talking like him. If it could not soothe my mother's heart, perhaps it would soothe mine.
After the death of my father, we were together again, happy, smiling. It was thirteen long years before another tragedy struck my heart, my soul. And this one was much more scarring, if no one could notice.
She died. Kyoko Honda, my mother, died.
She had been walking across the street when a man hit her. She was killed slowly, but he died on impact. I knew that it must have been sorrowful for that family as well, but my only problem was my mother. My selfishness got in the way of other's. I must have looked as though I was the only one mourning. And I was, I was pleading. I was mourning and mourning, and sometimes I wouldn't show it. But then was pretty much slapped in the face, another's sorrow hitting me full force in the form of words. It was strange to be spoken to with malice when I was so full of sorrow.
"You disgust me. Do you think that you're the only one who is suffering?"
Some part of me protested against such accusations. The larger half agreed with the speaker. I was being selfish and self pitying. I was only thinking about my sorrow, my mother, when the driver was killed as well. I was disgusting, he was right. I remember the day when he apologized for such a behavior, but I don't think I wanted him to. He had done the right thing, he really had.
She died; I was left to mourn her with no home. Most of my relatives disowned me, until only my grandfather was left. He took me in without a second thought, but soon had to leave me on my own for renovations. I thought I could tough it out and live on my own, only to be gathered up by the Sohma's and stuffed into a world that would only bring me more grief.
I was pushed into a mythical place that held secrets that I never thought could be possible. Whispers that seemed only to be dreams. But it was all real, and it surprised me a great deal at first. But still, will all those things thrust into my world; I still had the grief of my mother riding over my head, though it had long since passed. And a promise that clung to my heart, ruling over anything that was thrown my way.
The promise that she would always be the thing on my mind, and in my heart. The promise that said I would always think about her, because that way, she would never disappear. She would never leave me alone. Her smile would always be imprinted into my head, and her laugh always ringing in my ears. I loved her so much and it would hurt to forget her. To let her fade. I would never allow such a thing. And that was why the promise was made, along with the desperate cry.
Don't leave me.
But then Kyo came into my world and shook it around with all his might. And I grew attached to him. I felt my love turning towards him, wishing for his safety above all else. And hoping for his happiness before my own, and soon, his spot within my heart rivaled that with my mother. And as soon as I realized that he was growing in her place, I felt like I had betrayed her. I felt like I had broken my promise.
I began to realize that his happiness was more important then the times with my mother. And those feelings made my heart twist.
At the time that I realized this fact, I had cried out in such desperation, clinging to my memories like they were my life. In a way, they were. I cried, because she was fading away from me. My mother was being replaced by another, and I couldn't stop it. I was being selfish to let her go, to let her be replaced. I was making him my top priority when it should have been her.
Don't leave me.
Once when I was three, once when I was seventeen. I know that both of those times I cried it until she had finally come back. But the second time, she was just a faint memory to be tossed through my skull. And no matter how many times I screamed those three words, she would always remain a faint moment lingering within the crevices of my mind. It felt like she was no longer there. The ghost of her that once mingled within my thoughts disappeared. And all I could do was cry, and cry. But I finally realized that no matter how many times I rose my voice just to call to her, she wouldn't be coming back.
Please, mom, don't leave me.
Standard Disclaimer Inserted Here.