Ayame

The front door swung open slowly with a creak as they do on most of the old houses in the neighborhood. The Yamashidas had gotten the property at a steal and really fixed it up. The former owners, whoever they were, would be proud. Ayame's folks, industrious as they were, were out on a business trip and unable to be there for her stressful week of finals. It had been stressful for both of you. All this work, these exams and tests, they would make or break your entire life. Who wouldn't be a little bit freaked out?

And that's why it's great to have a friend like you. Yeah, you, give yourself a pat on the back because you're the only one she could count on. But maybe a bit too little and too late, after all. You didn't get greeted at the door, no stirring or anything, something feel off? Well, trust your intuition.

”She was always a bit of a gloomy girl." her father would say. She wore sadness like a second skin, she was an artist at heart, one that wove her inner turmoil into beautiful paintings. You could see a few of her pieces lovingly displayed as you walked past the threshold and into the living room. The familiar house welcomed you, though, not warmly. In fact it felt like there was a draft. It smelled stale, the lights were off and afternoon sun filtered through the windows catching specks of dust on sunbeams floating in the air and coating the room in warm shades of dim blue and orange.

No stirring. No noise, not even a fan left running or the sound of Ayame sketching. Where was Ayame? Well, naturally she'd be in her room. And that assumption brought you upstairs. Knocking twice

Knock knock Nothing.

Perhaps it'd be what everyone feared would happen. What everyone feared had happened by the fact she wasn't at school today. the room door swung open slowly, with a creak. As they do on most of the old houses in the neighborhood. And you were met with quite the grisly sight. Ayame was there, but she was dead. How can one know for sure? Well, she retained her color, one might say she retained her beauty. But her face was frozen in an expression of horror, tear lines streaked down her cheeks which were flushed though looking like it was losing color gradually. she gently rocked in the breeze, and for a second she looked almost peaceful

Eyes still open, those beautiful black circles were rolled back into her head as she hung there, slack-jawed. It would be a rather unflattering expression to make, but Ayame made it work. Her long silky black locks fluttered slightly in the breeze from a window left ajar. Light rays played off the ebony strands, giving them a warm sheen that eclipsed the sunlight where they blocked it.

She was in her school uniform. Perhaps she planned to attend before taking a different route. That cute little blouse and blazer with the ribbon combo. From the angle she was at, all you had to do was lean down a little and step forward to see her underwear. More than likely blue. She always loved blue. Her stockings accentuated her plump, pale thighs perfectly, and those classy black flats hung off her dangling feet as she hung from the ceiling.

Her mother and father will soon come home to find their daughter took her own life. But until then, you had her all to yourself.