Young Writers Society

The next morning, when Lucy woke up, she felt a heavy responsibility to go apologize to Paul. It’s the only right thing for me to do now, she thought.

But this situation was Paul’s fault. Why should you apologize? asked a sly, quiet voice in her head.

Yet this voice was overcome by Lucy’s new self. She felt as though she had changed completely since last night. No, she couldn’t blame it all on Paul. If she went and apologized to him, maybe things could begin to heal.

Climbing down from the top bunk, she took her phone off the dresser and sent a text message to Paul: “I want to talk. Meet me in the park in half an hour.”

~

~

~

When Paul got the text from Lucy, a violent emotion struck him which was half fear, half hope. Why does she want to talk? he wondered, I thought she had decided not to talk to me anymore. Could it be that she changed her mind?

Grabbing his backpack, he sprinted to the park as fast as his legs would carry him. When he got there, he sat down on a bench and waited, sick with anticipation.

About 20 minutes later, he saw Lucy coming down the sidewalk, and he stood up abruptly, leaving his backpack on the bench. He wanted to run to her to find out what she was going to say, but fear rooted him to the spot. His heart was pounding with hope, and he kept telling himself that she wouldn’t want to talk to him unless she had changed her mind. He began to regret getting the doll from Jigoku Shoujo.

As Lucy reached him, he breathlessly blurted out, “So did you change your mind? Are you going to have the baby?”

Lucy looked mortified at this question. She trembled and bit back tears. “No, Paul,” she replied in a quiet voice, “I came to say…I’m sorry.”

Paul was immediately angry. “Well, you can’t say you’re sorry if you’re still planning to go through with it!” he exploded.

“That’s not what I mean,” Lucy said, shuddering, “I’ve already had the abortion, and I’m sorry, Paul, I’m so sorry. I was wrong.”

Horror and grief hit Paul violently, leaving him breathless. His baby was already gone. It was too late. The hatred he had been building up for the past week suddenly converged and came down on Lucy all at once. “It’s too late for that!” he roared, striking her in the face and clenching his fists, “How dare you! How dare you have the abortion and then come crawling back to me to apologize! You should have listened to me in the first place! I offered you everything! I was ready to give you whatever support you needed to take care of the baby, and you threw it back in my face! And now, now you want to apologize?! You think I can forgive you now? Damn you! This is unforgivable!” Spinning around, he unzipped his backpack and stuck his hand in, searching for the dark blue straw doll. He was going to do it. He was going to pull the string. He hated her with all his heart, and all he wanted now was to send her to Hell.

Feeling the straw doll in his hand, Paul grasped it and yanked it out of the bag. He froze, staring at it in astonishment. Instead of a dark blue straw doll with a red string around his neck, he was holding a regular, pale straw doll with no string. What happened? he wondered, his breath stuck in his throat, Is it possible for this to expire?

Just then, he heard Lucy shriek behind him. He spun around, and his eyes met the staring, red eyes of Enma Ai. “Do you understand what happened?” she asked softly.

“I’m sorry I took so long to pull the string, now give me another doll, please, I need it!” Paul babbled.

“That’s not it,” Enma Ai interrupted him.

“Well, then, what did happen?” Paul shouted, “Why can’t I use this anymore?” He held up the doll in his clenched fist.

“The person you requested the doll for cannot be sent to Hell,” Enma Ai replied.

“What?! Why not?”

“That person confessed her sins, and they were forgiven her,” Enma Ai said, “I cannot ferry anyone forgiven by God, to Hell.”

“Who the hell are you?!” Paul demanded, “I hadn’t expected the Hell Girl to be a Christian!” He sneered the last few words.

Enma Ai shook her head. “I am not a Christian. I am unable to follow Christ,” she responded, “But the person you requested cannot be sent to Hell.”

Rage burned more and more intensely in Paul’s chest. He suddenly struck Enma Ai with his fist. She staggered a few steps to the side, but did not otherwise react. “Forget it! I’m done with you!” Paul spat. He threw the doll on the ground at her feet. “You know what…” he growled, clenching his teeth and shaking with anger, “If you won’t send Lucy to Hell for me, then I’ll just do it myself!” Shoving Enma Ai out of his way, he pulled a Swiss army knife out of his pocket and advanced toward Lucy.

Lucy screamed and stumbled a few steps backward, but Paul caught her before she could run. Enma Ai watched, silently, expressionlessly, unable to intervene. Seizing Lucy by the back of her neck, Paul plunged the blade into her throat. She died before she could even scream again. Paul dropped her body and the knife heavily on the ground. Blood covered his hands.

From around the corner of a classroom building, Matthew had witnessed the murder. His hands were shaking as he clutched the black straw doll and pinched the end of the red string. “You stole her from me…” he shuddered, “You stole her from me, and now…and now…no, this can’t be forgiven! It can never be forgiven!” And he pulled the string. The doll was torn from his hand by a gust of wind, vanishing in midair, and a deep voice filled his ears: “I hear and grant this revenge.”

When Paul turned around, Enma Ai had vanished. “Damn her, what do I care?” he muttered to himself. He didn’t want to look at Lucy’s body. He felt like he should be satisfied now that she was dead, but instead his soul was in even more turmoil.

Just then, he heard a moan behind him.

Spinning back around, he gasped, his eyes widening in horror. Lucy, her face gray and lifeless, was half-crawling toward him, one hand outstretched, gargling and moaning, with blood spilling down off the hilt of the knife which was embedded in her throat. Her hand wrapped around his ankle.

Screaming, Paul shook her off and fled blindly, as fast as he could go. He didn’t look back or close his eyes for fear of seeing her again. When he came to a classroom building, he wrenched open the door and ran inside, letting the door fall closed behind him and continuing to run. What the hell was that? he wondered, No, she…she must’ve not been dead yet. But what am I going to do now? I wasn’t thinking about hiding the evidence. I should go back and at least get my knife. He stopped in the middle of the hall, but didn’t turn around or take a step. He didn’t want to go back. His heart was racing with terror.

There were footsteps in the hall behind him. Turning, he saw an old man in a suit walking toward him down the hall. A teacher! he thought with a gasp, and he quickly hid his hands behind his back. They were still covered in blood. He was afraid that he might have left blood on the door when he opened it. Maybe he left drops of blood on the floor too. Moving a few steps to one side, he turned and stared at the motivational poster on the opposite wall, hoping the teacher would just walk by him.

Wanyuudo stopped in front of Paul, stretching his mouth in a smile. “Oh, Paul,” he said, “I was looking for you.”

I don’t even know this teacher! Paul thought angrily, Why would he be looking for me?

“I wanted to talk about your grades,” Wanyuudo went on, “It seems that you’ve failed a class.”

“You must be talking to the wrong person,” Paul returned rudely, “I don’t even know you, and I’ve been doing great in my classes.”

“Hmm…” Wanyuudo rumbled pensively, “No, I don’t think I’m talking to the wrong person. You failed Forgiveness this semester.”

Confused, Paul opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He had no idea what the teacher was talking about, but terror gripped him at the thought that maybe the teacher was trying to imply that he had seen the murder.

“It’s true, sir!” shouted a voice, and a young man with black hair came out of a nearby classroom. “He’s a murderer! I saw him murder a girl who was asking his forgiveness.”

Paul’s gut tightened with fear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he shouted, “I did nothing of the sort!”

“Oh, didn’t you?” a woman’s voice purred in his ear. He felt long hands clutching his wrists, forcing his hands out from behind his back. He tried to resist, but whoever was behind him was stronger, and his bloody hands were revealed. He stared down at them in shock, seeing that the bloodstained knife was back in his hand. Didn’t I leave that knife behind? he asked himself.

Wanyuudo nodded slowly. “Yes, it appears you are a murderer,” he said.

“Murderer!” Ichimoku Ren exclaimed.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” Hone-Onna asked softly.

Paul tore himself away from her and faced all three of him, the knife still clutched tightly in his hand. A wild light had come into his eyes. “Why should I be ashamed?” he returned feverishly, his gaze moving rapidly from one of them to the other, “I did nothing wrong! It’s all Lucy’s fault; she’s the murderer! She killed our own child! I brought balance to the situation! I brought justice!”

“That’s what he says, Young Miss,” said Ichimoku Ren.

Paul thought he felt something on his chest. Looking down, he felt a chill of horror. Blood was running down from his throat, soaking his shirt. He felt a presence beside him and turned to see Enma Ai standing there, wearing a black kimono with flowers on it, her red eyes seeming to stare into his soul.

“You!” he choked, and coughed up blood.

“O pitiful shadow, bound in darkness,” Enma Ai said, “Looking down on others and causing them pain…a soul drowned in sin and evil…” She paused, and the silence was heavy around them. Her eyes widened slightly. “How would you like to taste death this time?”

She lifted her right arm, the sleeve of her kimono hanging down from it, and darkness and flowers filled Paul’s vision.

When Paul opened his eyes, he was lying face-up in a small, wooden boat, staring up into dark clouds. Four perpendicular slits of pale purple light tore through the clouds and shone down on the dark lake that the boat was gliding though. The silent lake stretched as far as Paul could see, vanishing in fog, and there were glowing, square, paper lanterns floating in it. All the lanterns were moving in the same direction as the boat. Paul scrambled up into a sitting position and saw Enma Ai standing there, steering the boat.

“Where is this? What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I am ferrying you to Hell,” Enma Ai replied.

“Why?” Paul exclaimed, trembling with fear.

“Another person requested to send you to Hell.”

Paul clenched his teeth and stared down at the bottom of the boat. “Well, at least I’m going to see Lucy there,” he muttered.

“You aren’t,” Enma Ai said simply.

Paul looked up sharply. “What do you mean?” he snapped.

“Lucy didn’t go to Hell,” Enma Ai said. She turned her face up toward the dark clouds, and a scene appeared behind them, shining through them.

Paul gasped. It was Lucy, and she was playing with a little baby. A brilliant glory was shining onto them, and though it was only reflected off them—though it was darkened as it filtered through the clouds—Paul shrunk back from it. He was forced to look away. The scene vanished from behind the clouds.

As soon as he managed to collect himself again, Paul glared up at Enma Ai furiously. “That was my baby, wasn’t it?” he exclaimed, “Why should she get to be with him and not me? She was the one who killed him! It’s not fair!”

“It is fair,” Enma Ai said.

“How? What principle dictates that she should go to Heaven while I get sent to Hell?”

“I already told you,” Enma Ai replied, “She confessed her sin, and God forgave her. You did not admit to your sin.”

“That’s because I didn’t sin!” Paul insisted, “If this is how God acts, then I hate Him as much as I hate Lucy! I would rather be in Hell than with a God like Him!”

“And you will be,” Enma Ai said, “For all eternity.”

She sailed the boat under the arch, and he was gone.