You should’ve seen it coming.
For the past months, Polka had been looking at nothing but numbers and statistics. Whenever she streamed, you saw her eyes constantly dart towards the corner of the screen, checking for the rise and drop in viewer count. It was a simple matter of supply and demand, and with the release of more holomembers, some of the older generations struggled to find their niche and standing among the rising talents. She was one such case, and despite her trying to incorporate more gimmicks and effects into her stream, the results were often… disproportionate to her efforts.
The frequency between her outbursts has increased, and she would be in a bad mood the day after, leading to a loss of viewership. It was a constant cycle that fed into itself, and you could do nothing but watch the crashing and eventual self-destruction. Some members chose to graduate and end things on their own terms, but Polka’s disposition would not allow her to do so. Old clowns can’t learn new tricks, said the forums, and you were almost inclined to agree if you weren’t her sole caretaker and companion.
Habits are scary, and as you got used to her crying and complaints, you hadn’t realized that all this has also taken a toll on you. When strings snap, it is never spontaneous, but rather always due to a constant buildup of stress and tension, until it can maintain its shape no longer.
One night, her mood was particularly bad, and she was screaming and pointing fingers at you. After months of such treatment, you let out something that should never be said, and which to this day you still regret ever parting your lips.
“It is exhausting being together with you!”
Words are like water. Once split, they can never be gathered again. Realizing what you had just said, you immediately clasped a hand over your mouth, but it was already too late. The damage has been done. She sat there, stunned and frozen to her seat.
“Is Polka a nuisance to you?”
“I… I didn’t mean to say that.”
“You should’ve told Polka sooner if you hated her so much.”
“I don’t! It’s just that…”
“Just what? You’ve been suffering so much and never told Polka anything about it?”
“Look. I’d… I’d never hate you, I’m sorry, okay?”
“No, you’re right. Polka should just leave. She’s sorry for all the trouble she’d caused.”
Her whole body was shaking when she stood up. She wobbled on the way to her room, but endeavoured through and managed to reach the door. You knew that if you didn’t act then, you’d lose her forever. But no matter how much your brain whirled, nothing you say or do can possibly deescalate the situation at hand. The door was slowly closing, and from the light leaking from the gap, you saw her gaze, so disheartened and pained by betrayal.
You forced your body to act. Slipping your hand through at the last second, you managed to keep the door unclosed, and forced it open with your remaining hand. Her expression of shock was quickly melted away by gloominess, and clouds were gathering over her heart once again.
You grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards you. “Look at me, please.” Your own voice sounded pathetic even to yourself, as you practically begged her to look in your direction. And yet, her eyes were downcast, empty like the void. “You know I didn’t mean that. Let’s just, sit down and talk it out, yeah?” “What’s there to talk about?” she retorted, letting out a dry chuckle, “what’s the point?” “Look. You don’t understand-”
''What is there to understand?” she shouted loudly, and you recoiled in shock and surprise, “Is it me? Am I not good enough for you? Just say you hate me already and let’s get over it!” An unnamable flame began to burn you from within. Why won’t she understand? “No! I’ve been trying to tell you I still love you, but you just won’t listen! It’s like you want me to hurt you! You’ve always been like this, always just wanting to hear the things you want to hear, and never listening to what others actually have to say! So please, just calm down so that we can talk it out!”
You reached out to grab her arm again. But right as your fingertips touched her skin, her eyes flashed red and your hand was slapped away. You looked at her in shock. She has never hit you, even in her worst states. “Please… just leave me alone.” she whimpered. You hesitated, but nodded in response. But when you looked at the ground, you saw drops of red pooling up on the wooden floorboards.
The warm liquid and stinging air suddenly revealed itself to you. You raised your hands to touch your cheek, and when you pulled away, your fingertips were doused in blood. From the reflection in her Hollywood mirror, you counted three cuts on your face. You ran your fingers slowly across to confirm them. Strangely, it didn’t hurt much, but that’s probably because you were focused on her rather than your own injuries.
Her wide-eyed stare looked back and forth between the small pool and your face. At last, it settled on her hand, with the tips of her sharpened nails dyed in crimson. The two of you just stood there, each trying to comprehend what had just happened. She was the one to break the silence. “I… I…” her voice trembled as she spoke, and her eyes began to gather moisture. You were still in disbelief, and could make no reaction but lift your head up to face her.
One step, two. She began to step backwards, before turning away and dashing through the open door. This time, you managed to make yourself move, but she was way faster than expected and slammed the front door open before you even made it past the hallway. The rain was now in full force, and the gusts of wind seeping through harshly caressed your wounds. You ran after her, and her silhouette was barely discernible amidst the biblical downpour.
She was standing at the crossing, waiting for the light to turn green. Your pace slowed down to a walk and you shouted her name. You will never forget that look she gave you, a whirlpool of anger, distrust, sadness, and harshness. Never in your relationship have you felt such hatred and contempt from her, and both your footsteps and voice came to a halt.
She looked away and began to walk, and you were rooted there in place. Her back was getting smaller and smaller, and was disappearing into the gray. Soon, she would be beyond your arm’s reach, and you thought of what more could you say or do to have her come back, before it was too late-
A large crash resounded throughout the neighbourhood. Where she was a second ago stood a truck, gradually slowing down. Time slowed to a crawl as you saw her flung outside your field of vision before you heard the dull thud. You walked up, praying that your legs would be lifted iron, and her figure, illuminated by the headlights, slumped against the wall, limbs sprawled awkwardly in all the wrong directions.
The world went mute as you knelt next to her and took her body in your arms. You felt the tear and raspiness forming in your throat, and the cold on your cheeks was melted away by the unending warm streams. The ground rumbled and trembled, and through your misty vision and darkness you saw her makeup being washed away, revealing the unnatural paleness of her cheeks.
As you held her head closer, her lavender scent was no more, and all that was left was the strong smell of earth and rust. You pressed your palm against her side, trying to staunch the unending flow, but the warmth seeped through the gaps of your fingers and uncountable openings, and the onslaught of cold began once more. Her closed eye was covered in red, and it coursed through the side of her face, until it fell from gravity and stained your shirt.
Your hand felt the rhythmic movement from her abdomen. Through the roaring winds and crashing of rain against the pavement, you heard her faint breathing, occasionally interrupted by gasps and gurgles. Her eyelids flickered, and she made slight twists and turns.
The siren next to you was loud and shrill. Paramedics quickly brought you and her onboard, and the ambulance made haste towards the nearest hospital. The person sitting next to you asked you a number of questions, and you answered them dejectedly, unaware of the words leaving your mouth. Every part of your brain dedicated their attention towards her, lying on the stretcher and breathing through the oxygen mask.
The white outline of the building was approaching, and they were muttering among themselves, and you could feel your muscles relaxing. It was just a minute away now, when without any prior sign, the atmosphere dropped to a freezing point.
Confusedly, you glanced around, trying to find the source of the monotone beep that echoed off the walls. No matter where you looked, you only saw the back of their heads and equipment lying about. You were about to request them to turn off the machine as the sound was making your head spin and hurt, when you finally registered the straight, unwavering line right in front of you.
The rest of the night was a blur. You don’t remember anything from there, except for the echoing of the calm announcement inside your head. Apparently the rain had made it impossible for them to go faster, and that they tried their best. Excuses, excuses. When you looked up again, outside the windows were a clear blue, and the sun shone brightly against the white shroud on the metal table you were paralyzed by. The trip home was like walking through a dream, the scenery hazy and flickering, footsteps uncomfortably light.
You looked out of the car and saw the accursed crossroads. The ground was disgustingly clean, the rain having washed away every other stain. A few steps away from where she lay was a storm drain, its cover caked in rusty red. The walls were dirty, the gaps in between tiles filled with dirt and grime. Through the cracks on the road stood a small sprout with a crooked stem.
The driver dropped you off at your doorstep. The doorknob gave no resistance as you twisted it and entered. By the entryway was a lone slipper, the yellow on it fading with age and use. You stumbled and crashed as you walked, and had to lean against the wall to carry yourself further. Sitting on the dining table were plates of food, sitting overnight, untouched. Bumbling past, you walk a few more steps before feeling the unpleasant sensation rising within.
You barely made it to the bathroom and knelt over the toilet before the contents of your stomach spilled over. Figments from the past year flashed across your eyes, lingering on her being soaked in rain, before settling on the pavement that you just saw. There was not a single trace of her left, and thinking of where the last of her went invoked a second round of your torture.
You remained there after letting out the last of water and acid and bile, and looked into the mess. The pungent stench penetrated your nostrils, but the smell of rain from last night still lingered and refused to fade. You managed to get up and clean yourself by the sink. The world was still spinning and twirling around you, with every unsteady step you took sinking you further into the floor.. Right as weakness onset in your knees, you fell onto the sofa and a pile of stuffed animals.
Wherever your gaze landed, you would see traces of her, and memories of her would force themselves inside your mind. Looking for manga, getting a new PC, going to the amusement park, moving in, buying furniture, rehearsing show segments, watching shows and movies, playing video games, listening to albums, cooking and eating, and shopping for clothes and hairpins and makeup and accessories, anything and everything reminded you of her, and it was unending torment.
You had to get up and go elsewhere. You put your hand on the sofa, and, with herculean effort, pushed yourself up from the sinking surface sucking you in. As you finally stood up, a small box fell out from the crevasse between the cushions. The box let itself open as it hit the floor, and the ring glittered and blinded you. A dark gust carrying thousand faraway memories cruelly swept from the depths of your future; you saw her sitting on this very sofa, trembling and overcome as she uttered the two words, you saw her tender smile as your hands ran over the small bump on her stomach, and you saw your backs shrink into the setting sun. All tomorrows then collapsed and crumbled into dust, blown away by the raging storm.
The living room was almost unrecognizable after your rampage. Pieces of paper tattered the floor and flecks of cotton filled up the air. Electronics were rendered unusable while magnets and broken glass piled against the corner. Plates were smashed, walls were dented. Nothing was left untouched and safe from the violent tempest. You finally stopped, looked around, heaving and breathing heavily, and immediately regretted the decision. One mistake after another, in a bout of temper, you managed to destroy what was left of you and her.
Every waking moment, every dreamless slumber, you pondered and examined the past. What if you had done this? What if you had said that? Countless possibilities presented themselves to you, and you were a powerless bystander looking back. You chased after fleeting visions and ghosts, but you could never escape from that night, and the smell of rain lingered.
After the heartrending anguish had subdued, and you stopped raging against the heavens and the earth, all that was left was a gaping hole that can never be filled. Even you were surprised by the apathy and emptiness that followed, but it was only natural. Afterall, your world was unjustly torn away, replacing the fertile soil with barren lands. Funny how math made it so that losing half of one ends with nothing left.
Trashed as the house may be, there was a sanctuary, a sacred door that scorched you whenever you got near it. Drops of coagulated blood trailed forth from the place beyond, and you dared not tarnish the remaining remnants of her. Ironically, by distancing yourself from her, you felt as if you were able to preserve what you remembered of her, and you feared to relive that nightmare once more. And thus, her door was never again touched, and you buried her inside the room with frozen time.
You will never understand how she swallowed her medication so easily as you gulped down the entire bottle of pills with great effort. The blue pills tasted like plastic, quite unpleasant really, but as you felt your consciousness drift away, bound to earth by the thinnest strand, you heard her voice, calling out to you, and knew that everything will be alright. For the first time in a brief eternity, the smell of rain was no more.