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Sunny knew that he had to repent someday. The ominous figure of Hellmari lurked in every dark corner, regardless of whether he was in HEADSPACE or the real, brutal world. She loomed over him, serving as a grim reminder of his crime. He liked to think that Hellmari hardly looked like her, but he knew that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Beyond the layers of long, dark hair and the single eye peaking out, Hellmari did resemble his sister.
His sister had been a kind girl, although she wasn’t gentle to her core. She had a good heart which was overshadowed by her incessant perfectionism. Even now, he could recall her constant pacing in the PIANO ROOM as she struggled with particular melodies. Back when he was little and believed that she was invincible, he would stick his ear to the door in an attempt to catch these little moments of her being imperfect.
She was never one to be conquered by her woes, though. If she could achieve perfection then she would, and his sister succeeded every time. Every single time.
The world lauded her as a natural talent—a type of genius only born once every thousand years. And, sure, his sister was exceptionally clever. It was an indisputable fact that her brain ticked faster than most. But everyone else did not see how hard she worked for everything she had, sometimes withering herself down to the bone with her strict, Spartan discipline. She attempted to instil some of those values into him but ultimately failed, her tender heart faltering at the thought of turning Sunny into a clone of herself.
She was successful but she wasn’t satisfied.
She wanted better than a life of discontentment for her brother.
At least, Sunny would like to think so.
He was attached to her hip from a young age. Even before EVERYTHING, it had been Mari who watched over him—their mother too busy to care and their father too lacklustre to notice. It was his sister who shielded him from the judgemental gazes of other children, the ones which seared into his soul. Sunny had always been a shy, quiet, and unsettling child. His parents and sister doted on him at the time, but his reserved attitude was ill-accepted by his peers.
They called him words like ‘creepy’ and ‘weird’, their faces scrunched up with disgust. He could hardly remember what they looked like, but their insults were forever imprinted into his mind.
He still remembered the first time a boy pushed him into a pond, completely unprovoked. With his knees scratched up and his hands dirty, Sunny had remained in that position for hours, his dark eyes wide and unseeing as the sun dipped below the horizon. At some point, he could hear his parents’ and his friends’ worried calls. Still, he didn’t move until his sister finally found him.
In the moment, she knelt down beside him and gingerly placed Hello Kitty-themed plasters on his wounds. She said nothing, uncharacteristically. Perhaps his sister had known that no words could reach him in that state. All she did was clean up his injuries and pat his face—and it was enough.
At times, Sunny experienced explosive fits of anger. It was startling and alarming and borderline insidious to see a meek boy let loose in the most heinous ways possible. He would scream and throw and hit and scratch and push—
His father would remain calm and allow him to express his anger freely, the serene expression on his face never faltering. His mother would worry herself half-to-death, her lips bleeding from her frequent, troubled gnawing.
His sister was different. She was not unbothered by his fits, but they didn’t stress her out either. She would patiently wait for him to release his anger, her dark eyes glittering with unreadable emotion. Then she would take his hand, brush his hair, and give him a quick hug. It felt like he was being recharged after being so drained of his existence.
For Sunny, this calming routine, performed in the aftermath of a storm, was everything.
As they both grew older, she slowly began pulling away from him, losing herself in college applications and piano recitals. Whenever they spoke, she would urge him to practise his violin and then turn to leave in the same breath.
I started playing for you. Can’t we do something else now?
But the words would remain stuck in Sunny’s throat. Fearing even the slightest bit of rejection, he failed to speak up properly.
So he heeded his sister’s words and practised until his fingers bled, but it wasn’t enough. She still remained distant. If her mind wasn’t consumed by her bright future or her piano, then it was overtaken by Hero. There was no more room for her silent, strange little brother.
Sunny recalled that horrible day. That awful, terrible, dreadful day.
He had been staring at the broken violin. It lay ominously at the bottom of the stairs, torn into pieces, but he was still dissatisfied. He needed it to have completely shattered beyond repair. In this state, the violin could still be fixed. This could not be an option. He wasn’t good enough to play tomorrow.
And then his sister emerged from the corner behind him, her dark eyebrows taut with rage.
"Sometimes, I don’t understand you at all." Her usual smile was missing from her face. It made his sister seem so cold. Her fingers were shaking with repressed anger. His own hands were trembling but he could not fathom why.
He tuned out her yelling. He could catch her voice filtering through the void occasionally – "How could you throw it like that? It’s important! The recital is tomorrow! You’re not allowed to back out now!" - but it wasn’t enough. Nothing ever was.
He felt so hollow—so painfully empty. It felt like his heart had been excavated from his chest, and now there was nothing left.
Do you feel like this, too? Are you empty inside? Is that why you’re angry at me?
Sunny turned to leave. His mind was blank and his soul was numb. Her fingers latched onto his arm, her grip tight and unyielding and bruising. The rage on her face was startling. She had never been so open with her emotions before. He did the only thing he knew—he shook in her grasp, his light trembling forming into nerve-wracking tremors.
His sister did not relent.
"I haven’t finished. You’re not a child anymore! You can’t keep running away like this—are you listening?! Sunny—can you hear me?!"
I can’t play. I’m not perfect. I’m not like you.
The words remained deep in his stomach. He couldn’t even open his mouth to protest, his brain swinging between deep horror and a frigid, irrational pool of anger.
White, hot, senseless rage – the sparkling madness kind, reflected in his sister’s eyes – coursed through his veins, and his hands stretched out, and he pushed—
You killed MARI. She loved you and you killed her. You loved her and you killed her.
His memory is shaky after that moment. He can barely remember the wide, panicked eyes of Basil, the thick rope, the limp form of his unmoving sister—
Seeing her for the very last time, however, was burned into his brain. Her beautiful hair, so similar to his own, covered her blood-streaked face. She looked so peaceful, like she was sleeping in a strange position. But that wasn’t right. His sister had never known peace in her sleep, her eyebrows always lightly furrowed and her mouth firmly set. Even in her resting state, she remained the pinnacle of strength.
Don't be afraid. It's not as scary as you think.
His chest was burning with emotion. He couldn’t tell his feelings apart on a good day, so he had no chance of identifying them now. His sister was so bright and beautiful and he had completely extinguished her flames.
Maybe I pushed you too hard? I’m sorry… I just wanted it to be perfect…
Deep down, Sunny knew that she had forgiven him. From the first time she held his hand as a small child to her final grip on his arm, she had forgiven him a thousand times over.
As her spectral arms wrapped around him for a parting embrace, and SOMETHING disappeared into the void, he furiously blinked back his tears.
Goodbye, little brother…
"Goodbye, Mari."