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'You're a disgrace! Do you not realise that it's your factories polluting our city? How can you remain ignorant of the facts?' I shrieked louder and higher with each syllable I uttered, staring up into the hawk like eyes of The Boss, as he gripped my shirt collar.
'You insolent girl. How dare you interfere? It is my business, and only my business, on how I run my factories.' He half pushed, half dragged me out through immense steel gates and forced my body out onto the arctic Tokyo streets.
I turned and took a last look at his gaunt face before bellowing; 'I'm not the first environmentalist, nor will I be the last,' and sprinting off down the street, with as much alacrity as I could muster, leaving imprints in the thick snow, finally slowing when I joined the crowd rushing out of Harajuku station.
I breathed, a small plume of vapour escaping, and stared up at the vast clock. Five-Thirty. They'd be after me soon. The metal hands slowly rotated around the blank face; the ticking resonating ominously in my ears. It knew. A man, dressed for business, sneezed beside me. He knew. In my mind, everyone knew what had occurred back there, and I wished I could forget.
My mind replayed images, flickerings of the past. Glass. Glass everywhere. Those eyes, embedded. And the red. Oh God the red. Gentle droplets cascading down the transparent sheets. Drop, drop, drop, falling to the floor.
I felt something brush my arm. I looked down, hoping it was just a passer by. A hand lay there, still, wrapped in an ivory silk glove, lace twirling around the wrist, dotted with crimson. The fingers twitched. They leaped, grabbed my wrist, and behind me a small female, childlike voice whispered incoherent words. However, there was one consistent word: 'Ami.'
I could taste fear. I knew it wasn't possible, but I could. It felt cold, yet warm, equally at the same time, and there was the metallic taste of blood with the sting of vomit.
It was not possible. I left her. Dead.
My throat swelled up, as I grasped for air: enough air to scream. In someway, my fear had to escape, to dissipate, and I thought it the most logical way. Running wouldn't help; my feet were planted firmly to the ground, in petrifaction, like the roots of an ancient cherry blossom grasp the earth.
The hand disappeared; air filled my lungs and my terrified scream echoed through the street. Passer bys turned to look, but all they would have seen was a teenage girl, screaming for no apparent reason: hair dishevelled and tears streaming like crystalline droplets down her cheek.
My fear dissipated, and I ran, heading for the Meiji Jingu, and its solitude. I would ask forgiveness, and everything would be all right. Nothing would be wrong. Meiji Jingu would be my sanctuary. The shrine would protect me.
The towering gates stretched above, reaching for the everlasting sky and the heavenly plains, as I entered under, and through into the gravel path, lined with snow covered cedar trees. In all my life I had been coming here, but never had the entrance failed to take my breath away. Walking under the cedars, their long tendrils reaching skywards, was beautiful. Each season granted different colours, sounds and smells. This time, winter, was my favourite. It was clean and crisp, creating an ethereal beauty of utmost decadence through simplicity. Instantly it calmed be.
'Ami,' the voice whimpered. 'Ami.' The breathing was laboured, using all of its might to utter a single word.
My eyes widened. Standing there, under the secondary gate, was a small girl, no more than eight. Her ebony hair fell down in front of her face, in sheets, to her waist. She wore a dress. The one I'd seen before. The white fabric fell from her shoulders to her waist, blooming out there, and dropping to her ankles. Her feet were bare, causing her petite toes to grab onto, and curl around, the snow. Outstretched were her hands, wrapped in those silk gloves, her right index finger elongated and pointing towards me. Her whole figure was covered in cerise shapes: long fingers running down her dress, small spots covering her gloves and crimson seeping through gashes torn into her sleeves.
Impossible.
I dropped to my knees.
'Ami.'
I scrambled towards the roots of a tree, trying to evade the young girl walking towards me, slowly, with demonic grace.
'Ami.'
A scream erupted from my lips as images flashed through my mind again. The young girl laughing, in her father's office; The Boss' office. It was my job. I had to. Do whatever it takes, they told me. It will be for the greater good. The glass lay shattered on the floor as I held the girl, by her throat, at the window. She was crying. The shards were handy. They were cold. They were merciless, like my own hands. I lifted, and plunged, endless times, hearing the screams echo in the vacuum of my mind. Glass lay embedded in her. It was for the greater good. But how could it be: killing an innocent child. She had nothing to do with it. Environmentalists were there to help. But I killed her. I was told to.
She reached me as I lay twitching against the tree in my melancholic state. Her black hair fell away from her face. That once pristine beauty was severed: severed by glass shards, leaving ruby lines across in deep gashes and crimson fingers running downward, her azure eyes impaled.
My breath became clogged as she reached up to me. Her gloved fingers slid over my face, the cold touch setting off sparks, and into my mouth. They continued down my throat, and I tried to scream. No air would enter. No air would leave. The young girl's deformed face seemed to smile in a malevolent ecstasy, as she consumed my final breath.