Behind the Mask

It had been fourteen years since everything was taken away from me, and no matter how many months and days had passed, I could still remember it vividly – as if it was happening right in front of my eyes.   The cries and screams of my mother echoing throughout the house, the trembling voice of my father as he called my name while covered in his blood, the sound of the knife as it pierced through my mom’s body, and…the sinister laugh filled with pleasure of the masked man who was behind it all.   I could remember and hear it all…over and over again like a broken record.   Sometimes I wondered how a human can do that to other people? What were they thinking as they watched their victims bled and pleaded for their lives? And…what did they feel after they do that? Pleasure? Satisfaction? Guilt? Do they still be able to sleep peacefully at night?     “Excuse me, is something wrong?” I got back on my senses when I heard the cashier on the counter spoke. I turned at her and noticed her slightly annoyed expression. I got so immersed in the news that was flashed on the television inside the store that I did not realize how long I’d been spacing out.   “…I’m sorry. How much did it all cost again?” I asked then got my wallet out of my shoulder bag.    I went to the door after paying and walked as fast as I could in the sidewalk while carefully observing my surroundings, specifically the people around me.   It was past six o’clock in the evening so the streets were filled with lots of people, as well as cars, mostly business employees and younger locals.   I was on my way home after my university class, which was one train ride away from my university here in Tokyo, and only went to a convenience store near the station to buy some food since I was living alone in my apartment and I almost ran out of food supplies.   I had been living here in Japan after my aunt and her husband adopted me, but I originally came from New York City and I am an American. I was adopted after the crime that happened in my family which killed both my parents when I was seven years old.   The months after that incident were the hardest days of my life. The trauma made me almost like a dead body – could not speak, eat, and do other things normal kids do, and sometimes hysterically screaming and crying out of nowhere.   It was thanks to my aunt’s support, who was a psychologist, that I recovered from that.   But, there were nights that I could still see that scene in my dreams clearly like I was going back to the past and no matter what I do, the ending was still the same.   I could not save my parents from the hands of that hideous murderer, who was laughing victoriously behind his mask as my mother took her last breath.   I kept my head down while walking until I finally reached my apartment. The apartment building had twelve floors; I was living on the fifth floor.   “Good evening, Annika.” The old woman living next door greeted me while I was opening my apartment's door. I smiled, “Good evening.” I greeted back while lowering my head. Bowing or lowering your head to others is a part of social etiquette in Japan to emphasize respect.   I felt like a huge burden was lifted on my shoulders the moment I stepped inside my room and closed the door behind me. I heavily sighed in relief and turned the lights on.   My room was spacious enough for a single occupant like me and I rented it for a cheap price. It only became possible because of my uncle’s help who happened to know the landlord. From what I heard, they were buddies in high school.   A few steps from the entrance, on the left side, was the kitchen with a sink and single stove, and beside it was a small-single door refrigerator.   On the right side, just across the kitchen was the bathroom, and ahead of the room was a frosted glass sliding door which was the door to my bedroom.   I opened the plastic bag from the convenience store and put the things I bought in the fridge and put the cup of noodles on the kitchen cabinet above the sink, leaving one cup on the counter. Then I prepared hot water for my noodles before entering my room to change my clothes.   As I was opening the sliding door, my phone suddenly rang inside my bag. I immediately looked for it and picked up when I saw who was the caller.   “What’s up, Kaya?” I asked while entering my room and walking towards my cabinet at the end of my bed.   “Hello?” The person on the other side of the line said. I was taken aback when I heard that it was not Kaya and what was more surprising, it was a man.   I did not respond immediately and was trying to process what was happening when he spoke again.   “This is Hiiragi’s friend. She’s drunk right now. Her friends asked me to drop her home, but Hiiragi told me to drop her at your apartment instead.” He explained in an uninterested tone.   Hiiragi was Kaya’s family name. She was my cousin and daughter of Aunt Claire who adopted me. In Japan, people address others using their family names as formality and respect; using the first name means that you are quite close or familiar with that person.   My eyebrows furrowed. What’s with this guy’s tone? His words expressed that he was worried but his tone did not sound like he is worried at all. It is empty and cold.   “Hello?” He repeated which brought me back on my senses.   It was at that time when everything sank in my mind and I realized the trouble Kaya got into. I pinched the bridge of my nose in my dismay. What? She’s already drunk at this hour? Just what was that woman doing?!   I snorted in irritation and disappointment, “Hi, uh, thank you for calling me. I’ll just pick her up myself. Where are you now?”   “We are on our way now to your apartment. I just called to inform you about what happened and to make sure that there is someone home when we get there.”   “Oh, I see. I’ll be waiting outside at the entrance of our apartment building then.”   I waited outside of my apartment building while thinking hard on how I would start lecturing Kaya about what she did. She knew that Aunt Claire would get mad at her that was why she told that guy to drop her at my apartment instead.   It was a bit dark outside but there were enough street lights around that allowed me to see the coming cars, and I was not the only one in there. There were also a few residents of the apartment building who were coming in and go.   Then after minutes of waiting, a car suddenly stopped in front of our apartment building’s entrance. It was a black, flashy, and expensive-looking car and it made everyone who was there outside turned their heads in amusement.   I watched in awe as the driver seat’s door opened and a man, who I had not seen before got out from it. Then he went to the backseat and opened the door. Whose visitor is this? I thought to myself then I saw him bent over like he was getting something from there.   In a few seconds, he closed the door and my eyes widened in surprise when I saw him walked towards my direction while holding Kaya’s unconscious body in his arm.