[Sayo appreciates the engagement, even though discerning the trajectory of this tragedy is trivial. It's another sign that Anna is truly listening, looking. That Sayo's story is being heard instead of just told.
Even now, revisiting these memories clogs Sayo's throat, as if she could pretend her suffering never happened if she never talked about the knives that she drove into her own guts over and over again. But if she stopped now, what would be the point of telling the story to this point?
She had to keep going. Forward, always—that's the ideal that Sayo strives for in Trench.]
Soon after, Battler's mother, Asumu, died after a long illness that left her bedridden for most of the year. A few months later, his father's mistress, Kyrie, gave birth to his little sister: Ange.
Battler couldn't begrudge Kyrie, despite her playing an equal role in the affair with Rudolf. But he absolutely could not forgive his father for cheating on Asumu while she laid dying in the hospital. The argument escalated, the two of them refused to back down because apparently bullheaded buffoonery runs in the family, and Battler decided to leave the family and live with Asumu's parents.
No more visits to Rokkenjima. No more family conferences. No more meetings beneath the arbor. No white horses.
...I convinced myself it was a trial from God, at first. [Sayo determinedly maps out the whorls in the wood instead of looking Anna in the eye.] That He knew that I wasn't determined enough to commit to Battler's offer, and that I had to strengthen my faith in my prince and my will to leave to find a new life before he'd come for me.
I prayed, a little bit each night. First directionless prayers, thoughts into the void. Then I was convinced it wasn't working because I wasn't doing it right, so I dug out the hymnal that all of the Gospel House orphans left unread in the dustiest corner of their rooms and read from that. Still nothing. I kept doing it, though, because what else was I supposed to do? And when nothing came of it I felt even more unworthy.
Funny, isn't it? For the girl who'd made friends of witches and demons to start turning to God. What a hypocrite.
Years passed. Everyone in my class started changing, talking about puberty, getting interested in boys, and each of their words felt like daggers stabbed into my heart. All the other girls filled out but I... it was like I was frozen in time. I grew a few inches, sure. But I never got curves, I never had my period, and I was so deeply sure that there was something fundamentally wrong with me that the doubts began gnawing at my brain every night that it was me who kept Battler away, that I was cursed somehow, and that's why God never answered my prayers and why I was so lonely every night.
Still, I held fast, even as work got more miserable with the dream of freedom just beyond my grasp. Every time a family member forgot about Battler even in passing I felt like grabbing them by the lapels and screaming at them that he was still out there, he existed, that he was coming back. That I wasn't blowing things out of proportion, that it wasn't just some cheesy line, that he really loved me even when nobody else did.
[Sayo scoffs.] I don't think I was really in love with Battler after he left. I was in love with the idea of Ushiromiya Battler. The prince on a white horse who would sweep me off my feet and carry me away and make the decision to leave for me since I was too much of a coward to do it myself. That's the most pathetic part. I could've walked away at any time. Being a servant of the Ushiromiya family pays well, and I'd been earning money since for more than half a decade by that time. Genji and Kumasawa and Nanjo would've protested, but I have no doubt that eventually they'd cave and help me find a life elsewhere.
I was just too terrified of the world to act on that idea, and... I think, even back then, I'd already convinced myself that I deserved the torture.
[A long pause.]
Then, the family conference of 1983. It felt like a miracle. Kyrie brought letters from Battler, and George handed them out.
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Even now, revisiting these memories clogs Sayo's throat, as if she could pretend her suffering never happened if she never talked about the knives that she drove into her own guts over and over again. But if she stopped now, what would be the point of telling the story to this point?
She had to keep going. Forward, always—that's the ideal that Sayo strives for in Trench.]
Soon after, Battler's mother, Asumu, died after a long illness that left her bedridden for most of the year. A few months later, his father's mistress, Kyrie, gave birth to his little sister: Ange.
Battler couldn't begrudge Kyrie, despite her playing an equal role in the affair with Rudolf. But he absolutely could not forgive his father for cheating on Asumu while she laid dying in the hospital. The argument escalated, the two of them refused to back down because apparently bullheaded buffoonery runs in the family, and Battler decided to leave the family and live with Asumu's parents.
No more visits to Rokkenjima. No more family conferences. No more meetings beneath the arbor. No white horses.
...I convinced myself it was a trial from God, at first. [Sayo determinedly maps out the whorls in the wood instead of looking Anna in the eye.] That He knew that I wasn't determined enough to commit to Battler's offer, and that I had to strengthen my faith in my prince and my will to leave to find a new life before he'd come for me.
I prayed, a little bit each night. First directionless prayers, thoughts into the void. Then I was convinced it wasn't working because I wasn't doing it right, so I dug out the hymnal that all of the Gospel House orphans left unread in the dustiest corner of their rooms and read from that. Still nothing. I kept doing it, though, because what else was I supposed to do? And when nothing came of it I felt even more unworthy.
Funny, isn't it? For the girl who'd made friends of witches and demons to start turning to God. What a hypocrite.
Years passed. Everyone in my class started changing, talking about puberty, getting interested in boys, and each of their words felt like daggers stabbed into my heart. All the other girls filled out but I... it was like I was frozen in time. I grew a few inches, sure. But I never got curves, I never had my period, and I was so deeply sure that there was something fundamentally wrong with me that the doubts began gnawing at my brain every night that it was me who kept Battler away, that I was cursed somehow, and that's why God never answered my prayers and why I was so lonely every night.
Still, I held fast, even as work got more miserable with the dream of freedom just beyond my grasp. Every time a family member forgot about Battler even in passing I felt like grabbing them by the lapels and screaming at them that he was still out there, he existed, that he was coming back. That I wasn't blowing things out of proportion, that it wasn't just some cheesy line, that he really loved me even when nobody else did.
[Sayo scoffs.] I don't think I was really in love with Battler after he left. I was in love with the idea of Ushiromiya Battler. The prince on a white horse who would sweep me off my feet and carry me away and make the decision to leave for me since I was too much of a coward to do it myself. That's the most pathetic part. I could've walked away at any time. Being a servant of the Ushiromiya family pays well, and I'd been earning money since for more than half a decade by that time. Genji and Kumasawa and Nanjo would've protested, but I have no doubt that eventually they'd cave and help me find a life elsewhere.
I was just too terrified of the world to act on that idea, and... I think, even back then, I'd already convinced myself that I deserved the torture.
[A long pause.]
Then, the family conference of 1983. It felt like a miracle. Kyrie brought letters from Battler, and George handed them out.
And...
[Sayo's eyes are hollow.]