I usually didn't care about what other people did.
In the middle of an accident, I would probably be the first to avoid it rather than get involved.
Still, that image I had of myself might be a little outdated.
I looked at Connie, who was brushing my hair with a focused expression next to my seat. She was carrying so materials in her bag, things like a portable umbrella, pencils, and many other small items.
Unlike before, her touch no longer carried hesitation or shyness. We had been sleeping in the sa bed for about a week, so maybe that was to be expected.
I deliberately looked at her face, but instead of flinching like she used to, Connie’s actions changed drastically.
"Are you bored? Did you want to draw sothing?" she asked, pulling the pencils from her bag and offering them to as if I were a baby bird waiting to be fed.
I kept staring at her with those complicated feelings, but Connie continued trying to interpret any aning in my actions.
"Maybe... are you worried about sothing?"
And surprisingly, she understood my feelings to so extent.
One of my biggest worries lately hadn’t been being close to Connie, but being read by her.
I didn’t know how she did it, but just by staying close, she sohow gave exactly what I needed, at the right ti and place.
If I were bored, she would hand sothing to draw or ask to draw sothing specific. She knew I wouldn’t be interested if it was too easy, so she gave challenges—things like, “A dinosaur driving a car in an apocalypse,” or “A princess carrying a sword three tis bigger than her body, fighting an alien in space.”
The first suggestion made sense. Connie was a kid, and kids usually had vivid imaginations. But the second one... wasn't it an eerie foreshadowing of her own canonical events? Listening to Connie made realize how ominous even the most trivial conversations could be.
In the original work, there was a character nad Ronaldo. No one took him seriously, but surprisingly, most of what he said turned out to be foreshadowing.
The question was: would the events continue as they originally did, or would they change because of my presence? Were Connie’s words affirmations that the plot would play out as destined, like fate, or just random things said with no deeper aning?
Because Connie was always saying things like that around , I had beco neurotic about every word she spoke. The fact that she was so perceptive only made more attentive to her, almost as if interacting with her beca a kind of compulsion.
So I should pay attention to her while pretending I didn’t care, like an indecisive adolescent experiencing his first love. This ridiculous situation was causing a lot of stress, mostly because it could all be nothing more than paranoia.
But Connie, who couldn’t read my mind, simply said what made sense to her.
"Are you worried about Dad?" she whispered, leaning in close.
I flinched a little at the sudden approach, but at the sa ti, I felt uneasy, because she wasn’t exactly wrong either.
My relationship with Doug was indeed complicated, and Connie, who spent most of her ti by my side, naturally noticed my state.
I was very surprised earlier that all my efforts ant nothing in the mont his hands almost touched my body. If I had lost control then and my disguise had been revealed, I'd have been screwed.
Of course, I didn't think the Maheswarans would imdiately reject my gem state. In the original, they even had dinner with the Gems fused into a form much taller than six ters. Compared to that, my gem base form seed harmless.
But the sa couldn’t be said about the Crystal Gems.
The Gems were beings that had lived in this world for thousands of years. Naturally, they would know if another Gem was living on this planet.
Their job in the original story was to find corrupted Gems and protect Earth. If they saw a new Gem like , uncorrupted, they could only assu I was a Howorld Gem infiltrating among humans.
It wasn’t that rebel Gems didn’t exist in the Gem world, but they were rare. That was because the Diamonds, the ruling authority, held power like dictators. For example, White Diamond could control other Gems at will.
The only "successful" group of rebels in the original was the one led by Steven's mother, the protagonist of this world. And that was only possible because her secret identity was a Diamond, too.
That ant my existence would only be safe if I were part of their group, and if that were the case, it would be impossible for them not to have known about for so long.
That’s why no one should know about my existence. At least not until the end of the canon.
My hands clenched at the thought. I was so tired of lying every day.
It seed like life itself was painful.
I had to think carefully about every movent, exhausting my energy each day to keep Appraisal running and managing an unstable mind that couldn't even touch a man who played stupid tricks with a coin.
But the worst part wasn’t the hardships, it was a single fact that made my gem glow unstable every ti I rembered it.
The fact that I lied to everyone who cared about , from the doctors who treated , to the family who took in, and even to myself.
I felt like the lies were piling up in my gut like a burden I had to carry. I justified them by saying it was all for the greater good, but that didn’t make feel any better.
Amidst all these thoughts, I couldn’t stop thinking about one thing.
Why do I even bother living? Why endure so much guilt and exhaustion?
If I wanted to, with a simple use of my abilities, I could give myself a painless death. Wouldn’t that be better? Why keep looking for ways to fix my gem? Why go to such lengths to live among humans if everyone I knew in my past life wasn't here?
Every one of my actions seed... irrational. But before I could sink further into those thoughts, Connie grabbed my wrists with her hands, not much bigger than mine.
"I don’t think you need to worry so much."
Unaware of my situation and with the naive mind expected of a girl her age, her words touched a sensitive spot in my heart.
[What do you an?]
"Dad doesn’t really care about that," she said, looking at Doug, who was driving with a slight smile. "It’s been a while since I’ve seen Dad do those magic tricks."
[?]
I wrote a simple question mark. What did magic tricks have to do with whether I cared or not? But Connie seed to predict my question and kindly explained.
"Ever since Grandpa died, Dad’s never played with like that again."
Connie’s words were so unexpected that my mind went blank for a mont.
"Dad works every day and never stays in one place. We’re constantly traveling from one beach to another. Mom always seems busy, too, but Dad isn’t as strict as Mom."
Connie’s expression looked desolate, as if the worries always on her mind ca out unfiltered. She clearly revealed her family difficulties.
"When I asked him why he beca a security guard, he told that it was what Grandpa would have done if he were alive. But he never really seed happy about it."
"Every day, the house grew quieter. Mom and Dad rarely spent ti together, and apart from weekends when we got together out of courtesy, everything felt like one big family formality."
[...]
I looked at Connie, who seed as worried as I was, as if she were scared her family might fall apart at any mont.
Until now, I had only seen her as a threat, a character I should avoid. But the person before was just a kid who missed her parents' affection.
I thought having a family like Connie’s was a privilege.
My father was an alcoholic who went from bar to bar and ca ho with strange won.
The house always reeked of heavy perfu, makeup, and alcohol. When I did sothing wrong, he would beat without even listening.
All I could do was stay quiet and accept my situation. I worked to support myself, but also to avoid seeing him at ho.
In the photos around the house, there was an image of a woman I’d never seen before, holding a baby in hospital clothes. My father was smiling in a way I’d never seen in real life.
It was then that I realized why he was the way he was. From the beginning, I was an unwanted child.
My mother died because she couldn’t handle childbirth, and my father was alive, but dead inside.
Unlike Connie, I never wanted to be close to my parents.
Even when my father died, I only felt relief. I could finally live without feeling unwanted, without seeing a man crumble before every day.
But at the sa ti, I felt regret.
I regretted being born and ruining the lives of a couple who could have had a happy ending.
My grandma, who wasn’t even related by blood, decided to adopt . To this day, I still don’t understand what she saw in a broken child like .
But because of her, I understood a little about family. She gave the education I lacked and put food on the table. Her financial situation wasn’t great, and it got worse after taking in, but she seed genuinely happy.
What was going on in that old woman’s head, I wondered.
But one thing I couldn’t deny was that, at least to her, I didn’t seem like a total burden. I worked hard to repay her kindness, but before I could beco a proper adult, I died.
And in a way, just as stupid as the way I was born.
I looked at Connie, who seed to be experiencing the opposite situation from , yet still shared familiar feelings.
What would Grandma do for in this situation?
Almost unconsciously, I reached out my hand to Connie’s head and stroked it. I couldn’t speak, but I could still move my lips to form the words I longed to say.
With conscious effort, I finally managed to say the words that had once saved from taking my own life the day my father died.
With a slight smile, I moved my lips, forming the words I wanted to say to her,
[Good kid. It'll be fine now.]
Connie seed surprised by my gesture and a little embarrassed. I was a little embarrassed, too.
What stupid thoughts I’d been having. Maybe I really was still a little broken inside, but nothing justified taking my own life.
My grandmother had worked so hard to raise . I felt like I owed her a debt I couldn’t repay, even after my death.
In the sa way she had done for , I want to share that sa kindness and warmth with soone else.
Like this girl in front of .
[Good kid. It'll be fine now.]
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