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Marina’s dreams often come in less than vibrant hues.
Likely, it all started when her Papa would arrive home later than usual until he just up and left for good. This doesn't bother her much. Not anymore, atleast.
She’s learned to differentiate reality from her dreams. The dream Mama appears with a knife, a pair of scissors or something else sharp—and goes straight for Marina’s chest with it. That Mama whimpers incessantly. Never lets go. The word Mama would boil in the back of Marina’s throat but never surfaces, sizzling away into the air.
Her throat gets too scalded from the betrayal. Gapes like a fish. Marina’s arms are there but they’re moving very oddly; revolving in place creating an illusion of helpfulness. A small thought swims to her brain—push even if she feels weak. She needs to try to put up some kinda fight.
Dream Mama then says, “Mari-chan. If you’re not on my side, then I wish I hadn’t ever given birth to you.”
Marina would brace for it: her end, or for the pain to get so excruciating she wished she died. But it never comes. She just wakes up feeling a pang, her heart devoid of any signs of a weapon but her lungs would feel like they’re filled up and ready to burst.
Dream Mama has nothing on the real deal—who can and has permanently scarred her for life.
But her current dream is a little different.
It starts out dark, like when she comes home from school and is careful in her steps, purposefully making herself smaller. But not like a scurrying mouse, more like a cat that doesn't want its owner to know where it is quite yet. Marina has height over her Mama but it doesn't feel much like an advantage as it does a threat. She's watching her back.
Marina is rounding corners. At first slow—just in case—she can’t be complacent because surprises have happened before and they’re never pretty. That the lights are off doesn’t help either. She’s going faster because it’s driving her crazy how there doesn’t seem to be any end in sight.
If she were awake, she'd turn on all of the lights because how can she see yet not in this darkness? Dream vision is weird. She knows she's close to an exit, trusting the strange dream inklings, and there's one more corner, and just a few more--ten steps. She's almost out. Then it can end--
But stops in her tracks.
There's something standing between her and the exit.
Marina can't hear shit. But the logic running in the background of her dreams is flooding her. If something sizeable is tied to the ceiling made up of wooden beams, it'll creak. Especially, if they're old. Especially, if the weight is decent too. Gravity would tug it down if it's heavy, hence make some noise.
She isn’t blocked off. There's space to go around it. She’s almost in the clear.
But Marina's legs refuse to budge.
The logic is pouring into her nonstop. She's in a house that isn’t her own. In a room she's visited before; the futon lingering nearby, the doors white and brown and wide opened. Where’s the dog that lives here too? Where’d it go?
And the owner of it is right there.
Shizuka.
Tied up, hanging from the ceiling.
.........
When Marina wakes, it's with a loud gasp and a heaving chest like she'd almost drowned. There's cold sweat lining her skin and it's gross. She takes a hand and runs it through her hair. The scar her Mama gave her is present. A finger pressed to its unevenness signalling she's finally awake. Finally.
Marina reaches a hand over to the night stand. There’s unread messages. Twelve of them. But it doesn't show quickly enough from who so she unlocks and swipes faster than a sleepy brain should.
It's spam.
Shizuka blasted her when she'd gone off to bed.
Typical.
"If I'm not responding close to midnight, of course I'm asleep dumbass." Marina chides when she reads Shizuka's messages asking if she went to bed.
It's a friendship that took them by surprise. Marina wonders, every now and then, how they managed against the odds. A former bully now buddy-buddy with their former victim. it’s like a super duper happy ending where Cinderella gets along with her wicked stepsisters or something. Life is just strange like that Marina supposes. Just like how she's relieved to the point of happy to see Shizuka spamming her with pictures of Chappy.
[Chappy says good night.]
Below it, a picture where Shizuka lifts his paws up.
It's the final message.
Sent at 1:12am.
Typical Shizuka Kuze behaviour.
Marina texts.
[Don't bother the poor dog so late.]
if she could give it more thought, it’s a little hypocritical of her to say that when they both stayed up late streaming movies before. (Marina had clung onto Chappy like he would save her from the horror movie monsters.)
Marina sets the phone down.
Every morning, her Mama would need medicine after eating breakfast that Marina would always prepare for her. Marina set an alarm for this. The fact that it doesn't go off means she's still too early.
She should go back to sleep. Curls up on the side with her blanket securing her like a cocoon, her eyes draw to a close and is ready to dive back in.
In the end, she drags herself out of bed.
Earliness be damned.
..........
They’re hanging out after school.
Study hard. Get good grades. Get into a reputable University to go somewhere. It sounds simple but it can be plain stressful. They're still teenagers and home isn’t always a peaceful environment thanks to their moms.
(The thought of Marina’s own makes her face itch.)
They both made plans to eat at a family restaurant. Marina listens as Shizuka does most of the talking on their way there.
Elementary schoolers pass them by, some walking hand in hand with their parents. On other days Marina looked on wistfully; the days of her family being like that long gone, but that's not what takes the forefront of her mind.
Shizuka chatters away. And Marina is acutely aware of her subtleties; the soft tone of her voice. How her hair is past shoulder length and silky thanks to those new shampoos. Light shining off the threads. Her eyes crinkling. “Hungry.” A simple word, when filtered with her voice becomes gentle and happy and filled with her excitement.
Shizuka is right there.
Next to her.
Unlike in the dream.
Where Shizuka looked the same as she did back when Marina still bullied her. Dirty white shirt, pants and shoes. Unkempt hair. The thing that was new was the garish ribbon secured around her neck. Marina thought it looked familiar. Was it one of those things they saw window shopping? But Shizuka never said she wanted something like that.
(I’ve thought of ending it before when it got painful.)
Marina’s steps slow to a halt.
”Wait! You guys run so fast!” a kid rushes past her.
”Your fault for being a slowpoke!” Their friends say.
To stop thinking of the elephant in the room, you’re not supposed to engage in it; positive or negative. Her brain, however, won’t stop.
The dream Shizuka had glazed over eyes; the light couldn’t reach them even when Marina called out and shook her. Over and over. Unblinking. Unfocused.
Dead.
“Hey, what do you want? I haven’t had hamburger steak in so—eh?”
She’d been a few steps ahead. Shizuka stopped herself to look back. When Marina doesn’t respond or nudge at all, someone with fire that needs to dislodge it somehow, it’s noticeable. It warrants a pause.
She paces back, stops short of two steps to make space for Marina.
“What’re you looking at?” asks Marina at Shizuka’s closer proximity.
“Did something happen?“
Marina thinks of brushing it aside, but what Shizuka says next makes that impossible.
“You’re crying.”
-
They don’t want to draw attention by obstructing the sidewalk so Shizuka leads them over to the swings at the park.
It takes Marina a good few minutes to calm down. It’s hard to stop crying once she starts. That’s an annoying truth Marina knows about herself. Shizuka’s arms hover close but far away enough in case Marina decides to swat at her.
Marina tells her about the dream. By the end, her hand wants to reach for the scar, but stops it. Her stress response is so predictable it’s annoying.
“I see,” Shizuka responds, “that does sound like one horrible dream.”
Marina looks off into the distance. Her throat is too dry. Damn crying dehydrated her. Maybe she’ll get a milkshake later.
The metallic gears creak on the swing next to her. Shizuka lightly kicks off the ground, not really trying to go high, but just swaying back and forth before she stops.
They don’t say anything.
It’s awkward. The last time it got this awkward is probably when they first started navigating the whole can-we-be-friends-despite-all-the-drama-our-families-put-us-through-and-what-I-put-you-through. Marina doesn’t have much fight left in her. Let alone for filler words.
“Y’know Marina-chan," Shizuka begins, voice steady, “back when we were kids I felt lonely.” She's staring in the same general direction as Marina. To think, they could sit here and chat like this. How far they’ve come.
Shizuka continues. “Mom was barely home and Dad was in Tokyo, so I had only Chappy. I thought, if something happened to him…I wouldn’t be able to bear it. I’d just want to disappear. ‘Cause I’d have no one..”
“But…”
Shizuka looks at her. And maybe it’s what friendship does to a person but Marina mirrors her, meeting her gaze.
“Now I have you. It’s funny, right? Marina-chan who cries over me if I wasn’t here. I shouldn’t be happy but i am.” Shizuka beams. “That you care for me: Thank you, Marina-chan.”
There’s life in her eyes and there’s fondness directed like a sunbeam, at her, Marina Kirarazaka. Her, who’d done all sorts of horrible things to Shizuka Kuze because she’d been a selfish little brat who thought she’d had it worse so she’d obviously been justified right? Wrong. So damn wrong.
Marina wants to cry again. Her throat constricts and her ‘Put a sock in it’ comes out like a choked noise so she swipes at Shizuka who can quickly dodge it.
Shizuka laughs out of relief. “I’m happy you can’t live without me either.” Still she laughs. “We’re in this together, forever.”
And Marina inwardly thinks, her laughter is pretty. Too pretty. It’s unfair. Because. How come she’s so lucky to hear it everyday? Despite everything? Weird.
They hold hands on the way to their destination. With Marina occasionally sniffing, and Shizuka’s smile firmly staying in place.
Marina thinks she’s even prettier like this.
With her.
Alive.
-
The ice cream parfait they share at the restaurant tastes even better when they’re together. It looked Instagram worthy so both girls snap a picture of it before digging in. When they finish, a welcomed quiet falls over them.
When Shizuka taps away on her phone, she lightly hums because she can and Marina’s eyes can’t help drifting closed. Her phone lay forgotten on the side. The light from the window isn’t harsh but calm that it makes her even more comfortable. Like she could fall asleep. Right there.
Shizuka is subtle. Peering up at the defenceless Marina who she thinks won’t notice as she snaps a candid shot. The shutter is off, so of course, she won’t.
Shizuka takes in the Marina captured within her device. A new memory. Dated. Today at 4:58pm. A week from now it’ll have the exact date on prominent display but hide the exact time. The bigger picture is the time is irrelevant, but that Marina looked really cute just then and even before when she still cried for her sake.
She glances at Marina. The outside light doesn’t make her glow like morning would because it’s later now but her hair still stands out, like gold; it’ll catch the eye no matter the light.
Shizuka puts her phone away, leaning on her arms as she watches. Inevitably, when Marina opens her eyes she’ll ask what she’s staring at and Shizuka will say something that warrants a possible swat. Or a bite-y remark. Whichever, she’s happy. It means that that’s her Marina-chan right there.
With her.
-
That same night, before they both head off to bed, Shizuka sends her a message.
It reads.
[Chappy will lick away all of Marina-chan’s tears.🐶]
Marina’s response.
[Gross.]