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Appalling is the passing of time.
If she loathed the celebration of the day of her birth the year prior… all that's left is a bitter inner conflict. Confusion.
("I don't feel like I've grown at all.")
Or rather, the fact she was forced to shed any hint of innocence left once she set foot on the Argama has desensitized her. Resentment.
Lilies and peonies.
What had it been last year?
The memory is a blur, and the faces of the people who celebrated alongside her… they're gone. The only familiar face rests motionless on the bed next to her. While Fa, herself, sits just as still.
The entire room and everything inside it are like a carefully placed decoration.
The characteristic smell of hospital clings to her nostrils, it used to make her want to vomit if she was there for too long, now… she's gotten used to it.
"Nobody here knows us, Kamille," her lips barely move. And she mutters. She claims to be talking to him, yet she's mumbling - front teeth chewing her nail, already chipped by the treatment. "We can stay here. We can start all over. Kamille. We can do whatever we want."
It's so lonely in here. Are her parents doing fine? What did they do for her birthday before all hell broke loose?
"Strawberry cake." I remember. "It had so much frosting, you hated it. You told me you wouldn't be able to come because you had an important competition coming. I got so mad at you, I yelled, and we fought, and I went home and cried until I fell asleep. Then, you showed up anyway and said you just weren't interested in it anymore, that there wasn't enough space for all the trophies you already had."
Your hand is so warm.
"You left at 7, and you gave me a box… and you told me to not open it until I was alone in my room." A necklace. "I thought I had lost it." Shinta and Qum took good care of it.
"…Yeah."
I'm sorry.