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If there was one thing that Homura could say that she could remember during her...extended stay at the hospital, she wouldn't say that it would be the long, dull hours alone with brief bouts of human contact in the form of nurses and doctors. It wouldn't be the incessant ticking of the clock or whirring of machinery or the soft buzz of the lights overhead.
No
If there was one thing that she could concretely remember, it would be the pervading sense of betrayal, acrid and bitter, made all the more so once she had realized that it had been there for so long that she couldn't remember when it started. As if a thousand little betrayals had been unconsciously recognized and passed until, with a click, all the pieces fell into place and she was left with nothing but a hospital bed surrounded by white walls and sterile things with bitter resentment and nothing to alleviate it.
It coated the back of her tongue so thoroughly that she was sure that her breath would be nothing but the black, hopelessly dry smoke that pervaded her being, filling her lungs and choking her throat with nothing but frustrated anger and a formless need for something (something that she should have had with her mother, something sacred and important. Something that was lost but she can't-)
It surged and raged with every stumbled and staggered, heavy step that left her legs trembling and shaking, her breath strained and wheezing as her neglected, failing body tried and tried to regain the effortless joy of walking without support, without needing to take a rest for hours when she had only been on her feet for minutes that felt like seconds with her heart fluttering about like a bird's and feeling so so frail. (Mamma why am I like this? Why am I different?)
It flailed and choked her when her straining, atrophied muscles inevitably collapsed and she would have to be wheeled about in a wheelchair (She shouldn't have to do this. She shouldn't need to do this whywhywhy)
(Because you're my very special little girl Homura-chan her skin prickled and shivered as she remembered something like a predator circled behind her and struck, leaving her defenseless time and time again until it seeped into her skin, her blood and her bones and she became like this)
It hissed and floated about in the back of her mind as she was left staring at blank white walls with nothing to do but read or play with her hair or do anything that wasn't deemed as strenuous by her doctors (because the last time she had tried it had left her gasping for her breath on the freezing floor while her lungs felt like they had caved in and her heart was both sinking and rising with a rabbit's thump-a-thump erratic rhythm. The reason she was in the hospital in the first place. The reason why she was stuck here instead of at home but still chained to a bed regardless)
But the worst time that formless smoke, that dark, indescribable feeling struck her was by far the first time she had a needle used on her.
It had been in the beginning, when the doctors had needed to identify what was wrong with her and needed to take blood samples, stating that the problem may be something that ran in the family ( wouldn't that have been wonderful, if such a thing were true? If her loss, her crippled status could be chalked up to something so simple?)
She could remember the doctor stating that the needle wouldn't hurt very much. An attempt to calm her and keep her relaxed. She could still remember the needle poking her skin before she registered a prick, almost too quick to identify or feel-
"Just stay still for me, okay Homura-chan? Mamma will fix you right up- " A mocking,demeaning voice that crooned her name in a poisonous parody of a mother's concern (one that she wouldn't know but instantly recognize, one that she wouldn't realize was wrong for a very, very long time)
"Perfect, just stay like that for a seco-" Praise fixed with punishment, punishment full of nothing but a deep sense of-
"Maybe you need a les-" Terror mixed with helplessness swirling in a toxic mix as she was spun around and around and-
Black
Dark
Floating
Nothingness
The sense of being in an ocean with all of its pressure bearing down on her as she struggled to surface again and again, all the while hearing snippets of that sick, pervasive voice (her mother's, her caretaker's, hers....hers...h..er..s)
"Oh you look so cute in that dress Homur-" Heavy lids that refused to open, no matter how she struggled
"It sui--- you, don't yo- --ink?" Her body slowly becoming a weight that became heavier and heavier as her sense of the world ebbed and faded and she awoke hours,days,weeks later none the wiser and-
"Are you okay Akemi-chan?"
A cautious voice, full of concern
She blinked
The doctor was crouched in front of her, eyes looking straight into her's with an expression that showed a sense of concern before she shook herself and nodded silently
At the time she had brushed her thoughts memories back, thinking nothing more of them than simple daydreams from when she spaced out (her mother always told her that she had attention problems and she wouldn't lie, right?)
Time and time again, almost with some untold ferocity they plagued her mind. In dreams, in nightmares and scattered thoughts.
Each time she beat them back Each time she told herself (deluded herself) that her mother wouldn't do that.That she wouldn't lie.That her mother loved her and took care of her and she was just tired all the time.
It had been like that for months (years? Time blended together as her time spent reading and staring at the walls, listening to the tick-tick-tick of the clock warped and twisted, melding together to form a sense of being at the hospital for an eternity of time that simply stretched onward with little to break it. A visit to the garden here. Feeding the strays every once in a while there. Leaving crumbs for the birds once every blue moon. Nothing else. She could remember all the books she read but not the time spent assimilating its knowledge. She could count each tick of the clock but she wouldn't be able to say how many times she had done so before. She could point out all the divots and bumps in the plaster ceiling above her but she wouldn't be able to say how many times she had lost count before. Time had always been a bit odd around her)
She couldn't say for sure when her breaking point was reached, when her mind had been strained to the point of almost shattering.
Was it the quiet muttering of the nurses and doctors around her with their snatches of gossip and rumor alighting the halls in the first couple weeks of her arrival? ("Why were traces of sedatives found in her blood?She's just a child! She'll be suffering from withdra-!)
Was it the little pockmarked patches of skin that she could see in the mirror when she turned her back and craned her neck akin to the marks that needles left behind? (Little scars and bumps riddled her back. Between her shoulders, the back of her neck, peppering down her spine as if in mockery of a galaxy)
Or was it her mother, happy and unaffected by it all (she almost seemed happier somehow) and babbling about one thing or another with the occasional new outfit? (there was something lurking in there, in the darkest corner of that woman's eye, appearing in flashes of almost-expressions that others would miss. A small sneer aimed towards her every now and then, a glare whenever she said any sort of excuse to not wear the clothes she brought, muted frustration whenever doctors or nurses came in during her visit)
Regardless, all she could remember was being blissfully ignorant and happy, desperate for any human interaction with loneliness as company more often than not and then becoming this mass, this mockery of a person, of a child with nothing but resentment and smoke and darkness pervading her sense of being
She could still remember the first time that she recognized the bitterness on her tongue and the plummet her heart took as betrayal (of what? Herself, for failing the simplest of things? Her mother, for taking something from her? The hospital, with its endless white walls? Beds, for trapping her time and time again?)
She hated it
Abhorred it
Despised it
Even with the benefit of becoming a magical girl, of becoming healthy again through its means, she couldn't, wouldn't be able to ever forget the bitter taste in her mouth that lies left, couldn't ever forget how the bitter taste they left became unbearable whenever she even thought about lying. She could omit things, say that she couldn't speak of certain subjects but lie outright?
Utter falsities and parade them around as if they were the truth?
Spread the bitterness that infected her tongue like a malady?
Impossible
Despising
So with Sayaka's words ringing in the emptiness of her head, caustic and acidic, meant to hurt, render, tear at her in words and emotion.("You know, I just get the sense that you're a liar like all those other girls Mami told us about, trying to break us apart and break the team") She made the decision to not become the thing she so despised (liars and backstabbers and thieves) made all the more visceral as she was accused of being such a thing when she finally allowed herself to look into Sayaka's eyes, forcing herself to not break eye contact (the first time she had done so for in a long, long while)
All magical girls had the ability to sense magic, mostly through the telltale glow that they emitted in response to magic, but there was always something a bit...more to it than just that.
Sometimes there would be a scent that crept up on her, filling her nose with the scent of thorny flowers, soft roses, bubbly brine and gentle fire. Other times it was a ghost of a touch, a pressure on her arm or neck, sometimes soft, sometimes rough, sometimes jesting and at other points bruising. Taste though, was the most frequently occurring sense that came after sight when she allowed herself to open up and track magic.
It was through this sense that she allowed herself to be briefly seen by Sayaka.
Allowed that old bitterness to flood her tongue as her mouth curved up and her eyes dimmed despite being overcharged with magic so that she could allow Sayaka to briefly feel as she did, twin braids a sudden comforting weight resting against her back even as she heard the other girl continue her rant, Soul Gem sparking between her fingers as she became more and more incensed ("You look all cute and act all nice but it's girls like you that I hate the most, always hiding behind something and saying something different than what you think! You're always saying empty words and now they mean something? Yeah right. You're just a monster in disguise. A snake. You can't get to me like that. I know all of your tricks.")
She allowed that old bitterness to swell, smile growing wider as the sword-wielder finally noticed her sense of taste being invaded by twisting, jagged bitter smoke that crawled in her throat and threatened to choke her as she prepped the gun in her hand and cocked it up, aiming precisely at the sparking gem in front of her, dark and coursing with discharged magic, almost like lightning in form.
She allowed her smile to become more jagged, allowing for far more teeth and aggression than proper instead of blunting it, sharpening the edges instead of softening them for once.
"You're right. I am a monster and seem nice. I do say a lot of things that I don't mean, but you know what Sa- Miki-san?"
Her voice trembled and wobbled. Not with a stutter for once but something more as her emotions roiled,and tossed about in a senseless, nonsensical mess, water streaking down her cheeks.
"I say those things that I don't mean because I hope that you guys can believe in something that I don't. I act different from how I am because I want to be with you and the group. I-i just don't want anyone to end up like me, you know?"
Her voice was breaking now and Sayaka was just staring at her, mouth gaped open in surprise. (Was she angry still? sad? She couldn't tell)
Her smile wobbled, jagged and aching, cutting into her like a thousand knives as she stuttered through her last bit, righting her shaking aim and steadying her arms because Sayaka still refused to use the grief seed lying abandoned on the floor.
"You were always so nice to everyone. So happy. It was why I didn't want you to be a magical girl you know. Deals never end up well a-a-and now the consequences are catching up to you. Something worse than death. S-Something worse than the deepest pain that you can think of. I don't want to do this, but I h-have to now because I was too late. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It was nice knowing you Sayaka-chan"
She wasn't sure if she was smiling anymore but it didn't matter because-
"Wai-!"
Sayaka tried to move, eyes wide, tried to do something-
BANG
and dropped to the floor. Lifeless. Dead.
It didn't matter.
The police would find her body and her death would be mourned if she left her there. She would be wept over and loved and appreciated as she should have been when she was alive.
It didn't matter.
If she didn't want to be questioned by the police she should hide the body, dispose of it to avoid trouble.
It didn't matter.
She felt like she was drowning as she picked up the forgotten grief seed, sight spinning and refracting as tears flooded down her cheeks in a torrent and rain soaked her clothes, sending her body into shivers.
It didn't matter.
She couldn't taste anything but salt.
Nothing mattered anymore.