Twenty
So. I've been avoiding updating about "it." I didn't wanna think about it, I guess. Or talk about it. Or anything about it. But not thinking about it doesn't mean it didn't happen. It happened. And I swear on my mother's grave that I will fucking find those people, and they will suffer so fucking much, they'll wish they never even thought about touching a single hair on his head. They will live the rest of their lives with this huge cloud of regret hanging over their fucking heads. Strangers will look at them, and see the shame carved into their faces. I swear it. I'll do it for him.
I'll do it for you, Ryoma.
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