Chapter 80.
<b>Chapter 80. Irene. (5/7)</b>
<span style="font-weight:400">I checked the title on the video for the name of the song, ‘Nightcore - The Show.’ It hadn’t been a coincidence it was a nightcore version of a song. It was a style I quite liked and listened to a lot. It wasn’t unusual to see such suggestions in my rmendation feed these days.
<span style="font-weight:400">Though nightcore got a lot of hate because it was viewed as low effort, there were songs that I actually preferred over the original. Some might call me a heathen and scoff at me, but I couldn’t be bothered to care.
<span style="font-weight:400">I listened to the song for a while and the lyrics really struck home. I closed my eyes while I walked and listened. Inadvertently, I started to whistle the melody through my slightly parted unmoving lips. If one just looked at me from a distance, they wouldn’t even be able to tell I was whistling to myself. They’d just see a bit of my teeth and a trail of condensed airing out of my mouth.
<span style="font-weight:400">I examined the image more closely and couldn’t help but see a resemnce to the girl in the background picture who resembled Irene a little. Her hair color and hairstyle at least. But that’s as far as that resemnce went. Her eyes were purple, and there were pink hearts in her eyes. Honestly, it was actually a rather scary-looking girl. If Irene were a Yandere, she’d probably look something like this. The blood smeared on her face and hands spoke volumes of how broken this girl was.
<span style="font-weight:400">Curious about the original artist, I checked the description of the video for their name. It was sung by Jake Daniels.
<span style="font-weight:400">When the song finished, I decided to have it y on repeat by changing the URL up a bit. That was just how much the song fit my current mood. Between lyrics, it swapped in and out from the vocalist''s voice to an echoed version of the vocalist''s voice. The lyrics appeared in the video line by line as the song progressed.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Another day.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">Feelin like no one really knows me.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">“It’s okay.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">At least I’m used to being lonely.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Flip the page.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">Keep reading all my favorite stories.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">“They take away.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">All of my demons that control me.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">Walking to this melody, I opened my eyes and looked up. The sky was dark, cloudy. The street lights were dim, they flickered like they’d be blown out like candles from the strong gusts of wind that blew on the power lines connected to them.
<span style="font-weight:400">“All of these monsters in my head.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Tellin me that I’m better dead.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Maybe I’ll try and take some meds.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“That’s what my therapist suggests.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Thick patches of snow piled on top of the street lights as snowkes whirled about in the wind forming miniature tornados on their descent to the ground.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Wee to the show.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">Tell us your problems.)</i><span style="font-weight:400">”
<span style="font-weight:400">“We already know.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">The perfect oue.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Then we’ll send you home.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">With something toxic.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Don’t know if it goes.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">But it’s an option.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">The light could not reach me through this snowstorm. I could not be saved.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Wee to the show.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">Tell us your problems.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">I would never.
<span style="font-weight:400">“We already know.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Lies. Nobody knows.
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">The perfect oue.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">There is no such oue.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Then we’ll send you home.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">With something toxic.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Don’t know if it goes.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">But it’s an option.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Wee to the-”
<span style="font-weight:400">I slowly drowned myself inside this cold, deep, dark abyss enshrouded on all sides by snow. My cheeks were frozen from temperature reaching minus fifty and below.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Burdens on my brain.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Keep me feeling so insane.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“While I’m walking through the halls.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Feel like everyone is fake.”
<span style="font-weight:400">The wind chilled my body and robbed me of all the warmth trapped inside my jacket.
<span style="font-weight:400">“But their eyes on me. (<i><span style="font-weight:400">I wonder what they really think.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Maybe that I’m weak.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“(<i><span style="font-weight:400">Or maybe I should see a shrink.</i><span style="font-weight:400">)”
<span style="font-weight:400">With my hands frozen stiff, unable to so much as hold my phone properly out in this cold, I put my phone in my pocket and listened to the song y out. Over… and over… and over again.
<span style="font-weight:400">Endlessly, the same exact lyrics echoed in my head on repeat.
<span style="font-weight:400">In this fashion, I remained all alone on this mindless journey to my apartment, my lone senseless whistling, camouged by the cold violent winds in the dark of this stormy night.
<span style="font-weight:400">It was cold to the point the liquid on my eyes would freeze in no time if not careful. The scarf I had wrapped around my neck did nothing for me. It would stick to my dry cracked lips from the moisture that built up on the fabric whenever I breathed out.
<span style="font-weight:400">Every breath taken was visible and distinct as a result of condensation.
<span style="font-weight:400">This weather wasn’t intended for humans. It was weather intended for monsters who couldn’t feel, those whocked a heart. It was… perfect for me. Others might hate this sort of extreme weather, but deep down, somewhere in me enjoyed it.
<span style="font-weight:400">I was ustomed to it. I’d been battered by it for years now.
<span style="font-weight:400">I eventually lost track of time.
<span style="font-weight:400">I only knew how to walk forward.
<span style="font-weight:400">That was all I could do.
<span style="font-weight:400">If I walked straight forward I’d arrive at my destination.
<span style="font-weight:400">That was the only thing on my mind.
<span style="font-weight:400">Honk! Honk! Honk!
<span style="font-weight:400">The sound of a car horn came from my right pulling me back to reality. With my lips still parted and my eyes open devoid of life, I tilted my head up to the right and saw a car parked to my right as winds blew up the snow on the ground in a sparse cyclone around me.
<span style="font-weight:400">When the surroundings finally registered in my brain, I realized I was in front of my apartmentplex.
<span style="font-weight:400">Inside the parked car, with fogged-up windows, a woman was seated. She looked directly into my right eye which she could see from her angle.
<span style="font-weight:400">The identity of this person who’d honked their horn to catch my attention was Irene. When she saw me, she got out of her car in a rush, ran up to my side, and pulled me by the hand inside the apartmentplex.
<span style="font-weight:400">Though I was surprised to see her, I vaguely understood something. She’d likely predicted I wouldn’t return to her ce from the very beginning. Rosa being a hostage was simply a distraction so I wouldn’t realize the method she really intended to use to get me to return to her ce. To park up outside where she knew I lived, patiently wait for me, then ambush me before I got inside.
<span style="font-weight:400">Inside the building, she said, “I knew you wouldn’t obediently return to my ce. You’d definitely use the excuse of busses despite the fact you’d walk through the storm all the way from work to home on your own.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Can you please leave me alone?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“No. I’d like to meet your parents.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“My… parents… heh, sorry to disappoint, but you won’t find something like parents here right now. So… you should just go home.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Are they out?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“You could say that.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Then I’ll wait for them with you inside until they get back.”
<span style="font-weight:400">While heading up to my unit she continued following me on her own.
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’re wasting your time. They won’t be back any time soon.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Oh? When will they be back then?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“...” I didn’t answer her.
<span style="font-weight:400">“What are you listening to?” Seeing the earbuds in my ears, she suddenly asked me that.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Nothing.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Walking beside me on my left, she snatched the cord of my right earbud and put it in her right ear.
<span style="font-weight:400">I could have snatched it back from her, but I didn’t bother to. Who cares?
<span style="font-weight:400">After an entire y-through of the song, we arrived in front of my unit.
<span style="font-weight:400">I asked her one more time, “Can you please go away?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I refuse.”
<span style="font-weight:400">It seemed she wouldn’t leave until she achieved her objective. I already knew what it was. To confirm her suspicions.
<span style="font-weight:400">I let out a long sigh without a shred of emotion. I turned the knob slowly into the open position. I then lightly pushed it for it to screech open on its own and reveal what was behind it.
<span style="font-weight:400">Nothing.
<span style="font-weight:400">Empty.
<span style="font-weight:400">Deste.
<span style="font-weight:400">Barren.
<span style="font-weight:400">There was nothing at the entrance.
<span style="font-weight:400">When I stepped in she followed closely, right beside me.
<span style="font-weight:400">There wasn’t a single piece of furniture in the living room. The kitchen only had the bare minimum appliances, nothing extra. The counters were clear. The cupboards were spotless with only dust lining them from theck of use. The fridge only had cans of coke. The freezer, the exact same TV dinner,pletely filled it.
<span style="font-weight:400">My room, a bed. Myptop was on top of it. There were no chairs anywhere. Not a single table or desk.
<span style="font-weight:400">My closet had clothes, but they were all old. I rarely bought new clothes for myself.
<span style="font-weight:400">All the rooms made one question whether someone could really be said to be living here.