I Hear Them Cry by Shiho Kishimoto Read Free Book Online Page A

have no intention of returning with me, I guess this is good-bye.”
    That word—
good-bye
—tore through my heart like a sharp razor knife, mutilating it. I didn’t dare look at his face. I couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing about my sadness and fear, so I just said, “I see.”
    “What? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” His words burned with fury, his pride in tatters. What else could I have said? How could I admit lashing a seven-year-old girl with a belt?
    I watched his back disappear beyond the door, harboring a silent rage, just before he closed the door with a loud bang. The sound stung my entire body like a lashing. If I’d had it in me at the time, I would have clung to his feet to stop him. I wanted to. I really wanted to. But instead, leaning my back against the door, the strength in my knees just gave way and I collapsed. My tears streamed endlessly. I felt helpless as the humidity in the room, caused by my own sobs, began to suffocate me. It made me wonder whether I would one day be covered in mildew, body and soul, before I came to my senses. The fear that I might be sent away to prison and the pain of losing Shigeki weighed on me so heavily that my body felt like a mangled and twisted mess.
    After he left, I found myself visiting the church more often. I thought that if I prayed, my loneliness and fear would subside. But the hole that Shigeki’s loss had left behind couldn’t be easily buried. Even when I was painting the church, its large wooden door would morph without my noticing and I would find it wide open like the yawning mouth of a tunnel. Tormented by loneliness and despair, I gradually became thinner.
    Still, one thing gave me faith. When night fell, I would hear that person whispering into my ear,
    Mayu, Mayu, Mayu.
    The whispering sounded painful and somehow melancholy, as if someone were trying to reach out and grasp something, all the while coinciding and echoing with Anna’s voiceless cry. If my instincts were right, he would come for me, without fail.

ALAN: ONE
    Five months later the court reached a verdict. To me, the wait had seemed far too long. Simone lost custody of Anna, was declared emotionally unstable, and was sent away to the hospital. Pierre was sent to rehab, where he was to remain until he turned twenty. By the time Simone was released, Anna would be almost eighteen, an adult.
    Anna, that fierce young Joan of Arc who had won her security and stability fighting in the world of adults, was made a ward of a child-welfare institution. Before long she would be reunited with Pierre. I, on the other hand, ended up being saved by Anna’s dauntless bravery. Not a soul came to know about what I had done. I had been spared.
    I went to the church, where I genuflected and questioned my recent behavior.
    Firstly, about having dismissed the idea of reproaching Pierre for stabbing his mother.
    Secondly, about having hit Anna.
    Thirdly, about making Simone pay for her sins.
    Will God ever forgive my insolence? I gave myself the third degree, endlessly turning over the questions in my mind. But it was useless. I couldn’t find any answers, and confessing to Jean was out of the question. I took it upon myself to deny the urge to relieve myself of this burden when Simone, Pierre, and Anna continued to suffer, each in a hell of their own. In doing so, I was trying to atone for my own sins.
    “Ah, there she is, Mayu the pious,” Jean said, sneaking up on me. An hour had passed already. I had no idea I had been praying for that long. I remembered one of Jean’s favorite quips: “
The church favors the sinner who repents
.”
    “Say, Mayu,” Jean said, looking suspicious, “Pierre told me that he’s indebted to you for life. What’s he talking about?”
    “I’m not sure. I think he’s exaggerating. I mean, all I did was take care of Anna for one night.” I couldn’t help thinking that Pierre knew that I was behind the recent turn of events.
    (God may have