Fear of seeing disfigured friends, fear of touching that burning soul of revenge.
It was the soul she ignited with her own hands.
So, she, who was suffering, chose the only, yet the most undesirable path.
She ended her life, cowardly escaping from the heavy burdens she was to face.
...That child will surely fall into immense guilt, perhaps never able to forgive herself.
She will not forget me, and she will not forget this deeply embedded hatred.
But in this way, a part in her heart will eventually open up.
Because memories with the deceased will no longer increase, while her life will continue on for a long time.
She was always someone who could receive more favour, as long as she was blessed with a little bit of luck. Surely, someone other than myself would walk into her heart.
No one ever guaranteed... But this was the only final choice I could make.
Though there are indeed worries, she no longer has the energy to consider those things.
I am an irresponsible friend.
