Short Story: Two Little Girls

DISCLAIMER: THIS SHORT STORY IS BASED ON THE FACTS OBTAINED BY 'SASEBO SLASHING' & 'SASEBO SCHOOLGIRL MURDER'. ALL THE FACTS ARE TRUE, EXCEPT THE FICTIONAL ASPECTS OF THE STORY. THE AUTHOR IN NO WAY ENDORSES VIOLENT ACTIVITIES BY ANY INDIVIDUAL. ALL THE AUTHOR DID WAS INSERT FICTIONAL DETAILS THROUGH THE FACTS TO MAKE THE STORY MORE COHESIVE. MY LOVE AND CARE GOES TO THE VICTIMS' FAMILIES. 

THANK YOU READERS                                -THE AUTHOR

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 The cold and ominous corridor broke its silence every time a tide hit its sides. I was not comfortable walking through the haunting corridors of ‘Museum of Silence’, but I had to do this if I wanted some inspiration for my novel. And thus, I had to put my seasickness in my back pocket and muster the courage if I wanted details on my subject.

“So, Mr. Khaze, do tell me why you picked today’s subject?”

The one sitting in front of me was known as Broadway. He had ushered nineteen more people before me into the same building.

“Well, there is no specific reason. There aren’t many ‘assets’ left in your building. I mean, twenty-four is a perishable number. And with that manhunt on the mainland for an appointment, I call myself lucky I was even able to set my steps in your facility.”

The news aired by Alexandra Bich and the controversy attached to Blake Savage and Operation Alcatrax had my hopes up into the sky. Unfortunately, not many big fishes remained in this pond. FBI still hadn’t given any information that they said they’ll give out at the end of this program. But that didn’t matter right now. Today, I had to make my visit worthwhile.

“Mr. Broadway, could you shed some light on your Scale?”

“Ask your questions Mr. Khaze. If it meets the requirements, you’d get an honest answer.”

“Reportedly, not many people had talked about the section of ‘SCALE’ included on the convicts’ documents. I have read it here and there, but it never made any sense. Like, why is it ranked by seven? Or why as the program proceeds, the number keeps on decreasing. I also don’t understand why I’d be the one to see the convict where as nobody before had been able to do so.”

“Probably Mr. Khaze doesn’t want to see his test subject?” Mr. Broadway questioned with genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Far from it, Sir. Its just… as an artist, my curiosity knows no bounds.” I chirped joyously.

“Mr. Khaze, I hate to tell you that the individuals you’d be meeting today are exact opposites.”

“For the better, I hope.” I gave out a tired smile. I knew full well that anybody who was behind closed doors on this island was not a good person.

Mr. Broadway gave out a faint smile and turned around to find the subject’s file. He took out a bundle of papers and passed over to me.

The first two pages were the birth certificates with retracted names. On the next page was their conviction records.

NAME	NEVADA [GIRL A]           &                   KAORI [GENKI]
AGE	15  & 15 [AT TIME OF CONVICTION]
CHARGES	MURDER                             &                   MURDER
SCALE	3/7                                         &                   4/7
RELEASE	11 YEARS                            &                   NEVER

“Why are the official records like that? did you guys not bother using another piece of paper?” I said laughing. Mr. Broadway didn’t find it too amusing, so he walked towards me silently and sat on the table next to me.

He stared in my eyes for a long reason before I could see his small smile under his beard.

“For a simple reason we didn’t bother with extra paperwork. It has some errors in it.”

“What kind of errors?”

“Like this individual, Girl A. she wasn’t put into this building until she turned 21. Still the records say 15 because that was when FBI gained custody of her. however, in the case of ‘Genki’, its correct. She was put into this facility with her sister when she was 15.”

“Wait! Sister? These two convicts are siblings?”

“Does that matter, Mr. Khaze? For you and me, they’re nothing more than criminals, right?”

I gulped my fear into me and asked him another question, “What did they do? Could you expand on that?”

Mr. Broadway got up from the table and opened the door to corridor. Before exiting, he said, “Let’s listen to their story by their own selves.”

I managed to channel my courage in my knees and stood up to follow Mr. Broadway.

Two minutes later we stood in front of a heavy grey door. Mr. Broadway swung it open and allowed me to peek into the room.

I nervously stuck my neck inside to see two girls, dressed in all gray holding hands, sleeping over jute mats. The all gray was actually all white dirtied to its last fabric. All I could observe the minimum effort put by Operation Alcatrax in caring for these beings.

I walked inside the room and at one point I couldn’t move. I extended my hand and met a glass screen which divided the room into two. Our side was illuminated with white, where as a red strobe shone over the pair of siblings. Mr. Broadway closed the door behind us, and it made a huge noise, startling me. That also woke up the siblings who immediately walked towards the screen.

For the first time, I saw two beautiful Japanese girls standing before me. Or were they Chinese? Korean? Thai? Whatever!

Mr. Broadway patted on my back and said,” Ask your questions, Mr. Khaze.”

I put my trembling hand into my back pocket and took out my cellphone. I turned on my recorder and asked, “I know you are in here for heinous crimes. I just want you to explain what you did… and why you did that.”

The room fell silent.

…

Suddenly, Girl A smashed her hand on the glass in anger. She swung her hair back and forth in agony, grunting while she did it. Was it anger or pain?

I moved my gaze from her face to her fist. But all I could do was look at the lump of her fist.

It actually wasn’t a fist.

It had… no fingers.

I moved my eyes to the hidden hand of Genki. She stared in my eyes and exposed her hand.

All the fingers stitched together in the shape of a fist. Nails running through her nails, they were sticking from the other side of her skin.

I twitched my head to look at the hands they were holding all the time. I wanted to look away. I didn’t want to see their faces as I looked at their hands stitched with each other.

An iron bar as thick as crowbar running through their cupped hands, bent in the shape of ‘S’ to prevent separation. My imagination ran wild and all I could picture was the shattered particles of bone running through their veins.

During all this, Genki stood next to her screaming sister stoically. Mr. Broadway also showed no expression across his aged face. The only one emoting was Girl A. who had cut her head while bashing it against the glass shield, and me, who had lost all the strength in my knees and arms. I was barely standing, while my mind got clouded by my tears.

I was led out of the room and the sisters were left by themselves under the red strobe light.

I rushed to the nearest trash bin and vomited all of my lunch. The trauma of inhumane treatment against the sisters mixed with seasickness did not gel well.

“Mr. Khaze, would you like to go inside again and try again, perhaps with lesser hostility?”

I looked up at Mr. Broadway with my red eyes and baffled face and said, “No, please. Brief me with whatever you know. I’m not going inside again.”

Mr. Broadway sat besides me on a bench and started explaining, “Nevada, or ‘Girl A’ was the one to murder a 12 years old girl in Nagasaki. She was 11 at the time, and her weapon was a utility knife. She came into the victim’s classroom while she was alone and stuck the corkscrew in her earlobe, while covering her mouth. The shock the victim suffered left her vulnerable, thus her defence wasn’t enough for her survival. Then ‘Girl A’ switched the knife and dug the blade into the victim’s throat, pulling the larynx with the knife and soaking her own uniform in the process. After she was reported to the authorities, she went through reformatory for four years, and then FBI got her custody. The interesting part of this case was the intention, which had no malice in it. Just some children having fun turned something really sour.”

I was tearing up from inside. Whose side was I on? The 11 years old murderess, or the 12 years old victim?

“The story of ‘Genki’ is much more violent. That is why she’ll never see the light of day. For what she did, it was murder. But too gruesome. After the conviction of her elder sister, Genki was alone. Her world changed due to her sister’s actions. But, she couldn’t take it well. She poisoned her mother’s tea, resulting in her death. Just to keep the crumbs of his shambling life, her father remarried. That put further strain on Genki’s mental state. She assaulted her father with a metal bat. And when it got too much for the unhappy father, he gave her daughter her own place, severing ties with her. That new place became the location of the murder. Another classmate victim. Genki concussed her victim with multiple blows on her head. Once unconscious, she cut her hand and separated her head from her torso. Her motivation was empty rage, which was made public by Genki. And still, the failure on part of adults landed her in here.”

I raised my head and crawled over to Mr. Broadway. I grabbed her pants and started standing against him. When I reached his collar, I grabbed them and yanked his fragile body numerous times before breaking down in his lap.

“Why did you cut their fingers? Why did you drill them together?”

“Sometimes, you feel rage against individuals, right? But you cant do anything to them because they either have potential or they have done something that doesn’t affect you personally. When somebody has pushed that line a little too far, there is no hope for them, and thus, torturing them gets no results.

Nevada has hope for her life that awaits after her sentence. She needs some scars on her body except sitting in a cold room.”

“Then what about Genki?! She was not going to get out anytime in the future, right? Why did you stitch her hand?!”

Mr. Broadway smiled in my face and said, “It was fun!”

The next thing I remembered was me in my room. Apparently, I fell unconscious following my talk with Mr. Broadway, and I was carried off the island by an on-site medic crew. They shipped me to my room and left me alone.

I jumped out of my bed and scratched out the rough draft for my next book.

TITLE: THE BUTCHER TO THE CONFINED.