Stay Silent

The Lucky Cat café hadn’t really changed at all in the past nine years. In the past thirteen years. Since Hiro had first moved in, when he was just a toddler. At least, he didn’t think it had changed. He didn’t really keep an exact image of it in his head anymore; he just stepped out of the tram and gazed upon it and thought… yeah, that looked like the place. This was discomfortingly familiar.

He pushed through the door, holding it open for some people who were coming in behind him. He let them go ahead, feeling the atmosphere change, suddenly hit with the coffee and pastry aroma that some subconscious part of his brain still remembered and reacted to, even if he didn’t.

He stood there for a few moments, just feeling his presence there, until a smiley young lady in an apron approached him, asking in warm, helpful tones if it was a table for one. He gave a small, half-incidental nod and then he was led to a little table by the large round window. A jug of water and a menu was placed before him, seemingly out of nowhere, and the server stood over him, pad and pen poised in hand. She was asking him if he wanted to hear the specials, if he knew what he wanted to drink, if he wanted to fill out their customer satisfaction survey and be in the draw to win–

“Um,” he interrupted her, and she looked down at him with wide, attentive eyes. He glanced behind her to the counter, the display cabinets, the expresso machines, but there were only students like her running them. He looked back up at her. “Um… Is… Cass Hamada h-here?”

There was a micro-pause between her receiving his request and her answering smile. She slipped her pad and pen into the pouch of her apron and clasped her hands together. “Ms Hamada is in the kitchen at the moment, I’m afraid; she’s rather busy.”

Hiro didn’t care. “It’s important.”

The server inhaled silently. “Well, who should I say would like to speak with her?”

“Uh… Hiro.”

“Hiro?”

“She knows who I am,” he muttered, turning his head away.

“Alright,” the server said, nodding, sounding a little unsure of the situation. She smiled once more. “I’ll just go see what she says.”

Hiro watched the server as she made off for the stairs. He poured himself a glass of water, willing his hands not to shake, and he had long, slow drinks that did nothing to calm his pounding heart. He was sure that it was just the anticipation that was doing this to him. Once he could actually see her face again, everything would be a little bit better… It was just the suspense. Just the suspense. And it would be over soon.

His eyes snapped to the stairs at the slightest hint of movement. The server descended first, followed by what must’ve been… Cass. The server murmured something into her ear, pointing in his direction, and Hiro felt his entire body erupt with nervous tingling as Cass nodded and crossed the room.

She stopped just a few feet away from him, and he craned his neck to stare at her, holding it there uncomfortably as he took all of her in. She was showing her age; her hair was greying at the roots, and her face bore just noticeable creases around her mouth and her eyes. Her lips were pressed into a small, hard line. Her green eyes were narrowed and cruel. Just looking at her up this close made Hiro feel unfeasibly cold.

He noticed she was wearing a patterned silk scarf around her neck. Hiro had to wonder if it was there to hide any scars.

For a few long moments words evaded him. He had no idea what he wanted to say or why he’d even come to see her. “Hi Cass,” he said, and her eyes sharpened a tiny fraction. He didn’t so much see it as he did feel it. “Can we talk?”

“I’m busy,” she answered flatly.

“I know but…” He didn’t even know how he looked in her eyes. He didn’t know if he looked as small and meek as he felt. He wondered if some tiny, still nurturing part of her was looking at him and thinking, look how he’s grown. “I really have to talk to you…”

“Oh so now you express interest in talking to me,” she said through gritted teeth. She moved her jaw in a way that looked like she was grinding them. “I think it’s a little too late for closure.”

“I’m not here for that,” he said, and her eyes widened a little, though they became no softer. “I’m here about something else.”

“What else could we possibly have to talk about.”

“Well, I…” Hiro glanced around furtively, “don’t want to do it here…”

A groan crossed with a sigh cut from her throat as she turned her back to him, and then he was watching it retreat back upstairs. Hiro rose from his chair and followed her, every small elevation up the stairs dropping his stomach just a little bit more. He came into the kitchen, where flour dusted almost every surface that wasn’t home to various pots, pans, trays, tins, and bowls. The oven was on full blast. Dishes were piled high in the sink. The entire room stank with the sickly sweet aroma of cake.

Some pop music drifted from a radio, hidden in somewhere amongst the junk cluttering the kitchen counter, but Cass knew exactly where to reach in to switch it off. An uncomfortable silence settled in the room. She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms, fixing Hiro with a callous stare once more.

“Well?” she said suddenly, startling him. “I don’t have all day. Why are you here?”

“I… I need to know,” he murmured, staring at her unabashed. All he could think for a few moments was thank God for his medication; he knew he wouldn’t have made it even this far without it. “About… Takahiro.”

“Takahiro?” She slowly frowned, like she hadn’t ever expected to hear that name again. “What…?”

“Did… Did you ever actually…?”

“What.”

“Did you abuse him?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she yelled, slamming one of her fists down, back into the cupboards she was leaning against, and it caused a jolt of something to go through Hiro. Fear mostly, but also– That’s good, that’s good, now hit me instead.

His legs were trembling, but he took a small step towards her. “Did you,” he pressed in a light voice.

“Get out.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Get out,” she cried, and she took a threatening step towards him, “and never show your face around here ever again!”

It was a strange feeling that overcame Hiro then. He couldn’t quite describe it. Fear was holding him together, and yet he felt released from it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said evenly, and he took another step forward, and another and another, dragging his feet like he were on a ball and chain, like he was crossing a pool of thick sludge and mud and gunk. He was getting close to her, and every nerve just reeled in response, but he pushed through it. “I want you to tell me what you did to him.”

“I didn’t do anything to him!”

“Stop lying.”

“Why would I’ve abused the son of the man I was betrothed to.”

“Because you couldn’t stop yourself.”

He was as close as he dared to be now, which was close enough for her to just reach up and strike him. Every instinct of his was screaming at him to leave, and he trembled with it. She stared back at him, her eyes darting between the two of his, trying to read his expression. There was a kind of hardened confusion to her, but also she looked…

Afraid?

She backed up, sliding along the counter edge, away from him. He followed her. “What are you doing,” she growled.

“Tell me what you did to him.”

“I did tell you – I did absolutely nothing.”

“No.” Hiro wasn’t going to accept that answer. Because he couldn’t accept the alternative. “No, you hurt him. You had him all alone to yourself for weeks– you had more than enough opportunities to corner him and isolate him and feed him your disgusting cakes and do all kinds of nasty things to him. That’s what you do. That’s what you’ve always done.”

She was still cautiously backing away from him, and he was still unhurriedly pursuing her. The resentment in her eyes was growing defensive, frantic. She was like a cornered animal.

“You never changed. All you do is hurt people. And you just keep on hurting them – long after they’ve escaped the likes of you. No– you don’t just hurt people, you ruin them.”

You ruin me.

“If this is how you act now then I’m tempted to believe it,” she snarled back. She put out her hand to stop him from coming any closer, and Hiro ran his shoulder into it, the skin beneath her touch tensing and crawling. She pushed him away but it was such a pathetic effort that he barely stumbled. “Stay away from me,” she demanded.

Hiro paused. He didn’t understand. She was angry, wasn’t she? Here he was, in the flesh, the boy who’d sabotaged her chance at a fresh start and a new life before it had even begun, in a room alone with her, and she was still holding back? Why wasn’t she hitting him? Why wasn’t she proving herself to be the monster he knew she was?

“Hit me,” he whispered, and her eyes opened wide. “Hit me,” he said again, louder. “Do it, just… fucking hit me. You know you want to.”

“You’ve really lost it, haven’t you,” she breathed, terrified. “You’ve really gone off the deep end.”

“Hit me.”

He took one confident stride forward, and then she was holding a frying pan above her head, poised to strike. Her fingers clutched tight at the greasy handle. She was shaking. Yes, he thought, forcing himself to edge closer, yes, yes, yes.

“Do it,” he said. “Don’t hold back.” Maybe hold back a little.

“If you don’t get out of my house right now then I’m calling the police,” she rushed out in one breath. “I mean it.”

“Really.” Hiro felt himself smile, and the answering horror that just mounted on her face made him feel good. His voice wasn’t even shaking anymore as he continued, “You’d call the police? On me? And tell them what. That one of your victims paid you a visit and now you’re threatening to conk them out with a frying pan?”

“You’re threatening ME.”

Hiro raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at her. He stared at her like she was crazy. “Why would I hurt you? I’m not the abuser here – you are.”

“I am not an abuser.”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted, frustration cracking his voice on the last word. He cleared his throat. “You are an abuser. A sexual offender, an emotional manipulator. You’re a monster. You’re so horrible that you won’t even admit it– you just go on denying it and turning it all around to make it seem like it wasn’t even your fault, like it wasn’t even real.”

Sounds familiar, he heard a voice in his head say and he fought back a shudder. Don’t do this.

“Hit me,” he sharply commanded her again, and she flinched. Like she really was afraid of him.

The sudden rush of hate was so intense; he grabbed her arm – that’s when she started screaming – and tried to pull the frying pan to his head, to get her to hurt him, to leave – her screaming was loud, her thrashing was worse – clear visible marks, for the physical pain to catch up to the rest of the emotional pain she’d bequeathed him and everyone else she touched, years and years ago. It never stopped.

“Hit me! Hurt me! Fucking kill me!”

The pan flew from her hand, clattering hard and metallic to the kitchen floor. He stared at it, feeling shock spread through him, and those few short seconds were all she needed to get out from under him and flee the room. He saw her hurriedly descend the stairs, gasping and snivelling, and he wondered darkly if he would’ve had enough time to rush over there and push her down the rest of the way, if she was in such a hurry.

That was too far.

He sank to his knees and bent forward and clutched his hands to his face, and it took so much effort not to claw his skin right off his skull. He wanted to blame it all on her – just everything that he’d ever said and done, every mistake and fuck-up he’d ever made – but he wasn’t even sure if he could anymore. He didn’t know how responsible she was.

He didn’t like this side of himself. This side that he didn’t even know had existed. It was ugly. It was… abusive. It was terrifying. It was out of control, doing whatever it could to feel safe again.

Maybe I am an abuser…

His face screwed up tight. He trembled as short, stifled, cut-off cries bubbled up his throat, but they stopped when he heard some people ascend the stairs. He lurched to his feet and, seeing that none of them were Cass, he charged through them, back down the stairs. They followed; they called him Sir and asked him in firm tones to leave the house at once and informed him that he was from here on out banned from the café, but Hiro didn’t acknowledge he’d even heard them speak. He just crossed the room and burst out the door and breathed.

He spent the rest of the afternoon leaning over his knees on a park bench, staring at the dirt beneath his new black dress shoes, a voice in head going, stupid, stupid, you’re so stupid, you’re the stupidest person who ever had the misfortune to live, you’re so stupid, while he perfunctorily nodded, not even contesting it, just agreeing.

It was one of the most terrifying things he’d ever experienced. Seeing himself – he didn’t even know if it was the first time – in the role of an abuser, no longer a victim. He didn’t even know.

And it terrified him some more.