📘 2007: A Girl with No Tomorrow

✦ Chapter 15: Paint Over the Bruises

> “They gave me money like praise, and silence like love.

But all they really gave me… was shame with a ribbon.”

— Aki Hoshino

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The gate clicked behind her.

The hallway smelled like citrus polish. The floors gleamed. Aki’s bruised ankle throbbed with each step as she walked in, still wearing her tournament jacket.

No one greeted her.

No one asked if she was okay.

Her father was in the lounge, sipping from a whisky glass, golf playing softly on the giant TV.

He didn’t look up. Just muttered:

“You won?”

“Yes.”

A pause. He pulled a thin envelope from under a coaster and tossed it onto the glass table beside him.

It landed with a soft thap.

“Good,” he said, eyes still on the screen. “Some of the guys from my archery days were watching. Said I trained you well.”

She didn’t respond.

“You’re lucky you didn’t lose,” he added coldly. “That limp would’ve earned you a lesson.”

She took the envelope silently.

Thick. Bills inside. As always.

She wasn’t sure if it was payment or hush money anymore.

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Upstairs, her mother stood in front of a mirror, brushing her perfect hair. She glanced at Aki’s visible bruise, high on her cheek — from a hard elbow in round two.

“Did you ice that?”

Aki said nothing.

Her mother walked over. Took a compact from her vanity. Opened it. Dipped two fingers into a flesh-colored cream.

“Sit.”

Aki did.

Her mother dabbed the makeup onto her cheek, expertly.

“Next time, use this before coming home,” she said curtly. “People saw you get photographed today.”

“They hit hard in tournaments,” Aki muttered.

Her mother snapped the compact shut.

“We have an image in this society,” she said, straightening Aki’s collar.

“Hide the bruises. Not everyone needs to know how violent things are under success.”

She turned back to her mirror.

“Oh,” she added, pulling another envelope from her drawer. “Prize money. Keep it. But don’t flash it around school. Poor girls get jealous.”

Aki stared at the second envelope in her hand.

So much cash…

And not one hug.

Not one “we’re proud of you.”

Only paint.

And silence.

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Later that night, Aki sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the two envelopes in her lap.

> One from a father who would’ve hit her if she lost.

One from a mother who only touched her when covering the damage.

She opened her notebook.

> Date: October 29, 2007 (Night)

Two envelopes.

One bruise.

Zero love.

They said I made them proud.

But only if I smiled through the pain, hid the limp, and wore powder over the truth.

*I’m a trophy to them.

And even trophies crack, eventually.*

She folded the page.

Turned off the light.

And stared at the ceiling until morning.

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End of Chapter 15

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