I don't own Higurashi.

She remembers their first meeting.

He almost seemed like a guardian angel to her back then, having saved her from those thugs. And it didn't matter that his arms were thin, his hair rough and dull and his skin marred with scars.

She remembers when she met him at school the next day. How she'd blush at her sister's implications and how he would kindly smile. She remembers when she started spending her free time helping him with shopping and chatting about insignificant things. How it gave her a sense of purpose.

But she doesn't remember when she started thinking about him while doing her hair or wondering about what clothes to put on. Would he notice that she looked different from her sister? Would he think that she's pretty? And was he concerned about such things, too?

She remembers when she started running to his home early in the morning, so she could be the first person to see him. And it didn't matter that she was sleepy for days; his smile made it all worth it.

She doesn't remember when he started to look so tired and be so silent. And when she started to stay awake at night, worried about him, because each time he'd ask him what was wrong, he would just pat her head.

But she remembers when he quit patting her head at all. When the brat, Satoko, started annoying her. The girl clung to him; she cried over every little thing, not caring about her brother; and he would always come to her rescue. He was too exhausted to even talk to her. And when she decided to teach the brat a lesson, he took Satoko's side; he showed her into a locket, shouted at her and made her cry, even though she had done it for him, so he would be happy, so that the brat would quit burdening him.

She remembers the way her heart was wrenching when she found him alone, crying. And he wouldn't talk to her, he didn't even notice her. What happened to their friendship?

Finally, she realized that the brat was taking him away from her; that it was all that wretched creature's fault; deliberately wailing and cringing in a corner to get his attention. Giving nothing in return. His smile, his small gestures towards her. She'd feel that sly grin and malicious stare on her back whenever she wasn't looking. It chewed on her heart and poisoned her mind. The brat started following her around, the sound of her footsteps and stifled laughter behind her; but when she'd turn around, she wasn't there. Hiding. Mocking her.

It didn't matter. She'd put up with it for Satoshi. For her Satoshi.

But there wasn't much left of him. The light in his eyes no longer shone for her; for anybody that matter, besides the brat. He didn't smile for her anymore.

Eventually he quit meeting with her at all, because he got a part-time job so he could buy an expensive bear for Satoko. But the pest didn't lighten up at all and it hurt her, hurt her so very much, because she'd be dead-happy if she got just a hug from him. Hell, just a word from him would've been enough. And the pest didn't even care when he started shattering.

She remembers how he confessed that he wished that Satoko could stay in the hospital forever. He didn't say it out loud, but she knew: she knew that he wanted her gone, so that he could live his life once again.

She remembers the rage, as the ungrateful little witch cried that she couldn't take this anymore. But her cry was laced with suppressed laughter.

And she remembers the sweet, sweet feeling that crept into her battered heart, as she wrapped her hands around the monster's neck. She wanted to die? Fine! Satoshi, no, the world would be better off without an useless brat like her.

She remembers Satoshi rushing into the room. The satisfaction as the brat's neck snapped in front of him, freeing him. And her. It even dulled the pain, as he shoved her against the floor.

She was ecstatic. She had done it! A laughter gurgled in her throat.

But why was Satoshi screaming for Satoko to wake up? The shrill sound tore and clawed at her ears, howled at her. Why was he whispering in desperation, cradling the body in his arms like a doll, its head falling to the sides and twisting in impossible directions?

She remembers her mind cracking open, a loud screech escaping her, continuous apologies echoing in her ears. Tears leaked from her eyes. What had she done? Why had she done it?

And her wrists. So itchy. Itchy itchy itchy.

The brat was horrible. Terrible and utterly helpless. She had deserved to die.

But her Satoshi-kun didn't deserve this, this pain after suffering for so long. And the brat hadn't deserved to die so easily.

She doesn't remember pulling out her taser or the shocking sensation running through her body.

But she remembers his strangled gasp.

And then she doesn't remember anything at all.