Sakura ascended the stairs as she summoned a limited reserve of resilience to open her bedroom door. She sighed, walking to her dresser, where a black wooden frame caught her eye. Encased within was a cherished photograph of Sakura and her boyfriend, Athen Hicks, captured during their inaugural forest rendezvous—where their love story had unfolded.
Perched on a high boulder one afternoon, Sakura closed her bright red eyes to allow the peaceful rhythm of the woods to ease her mind after a long day at school. She found comfort in the birds singing overhead and the sight of chipmunks darting about.
A sudden snap of a branch broke the tranquility. Her heart skipped as she opened her eyes to see a boy walking along the dirt path below. Recognition dawned as she realized it was Athen Hicks, a classmate from history class. An Australian from Sydney who moved to the States when his mother brought her career stateside.
His stunning features distracted her. His pale, flawless skin and pastel-blue eyes made him appear like a work of art—a picture-perfect image. He wore his favorite sleeveless band shirt and ripped jeans torn at the knees. His striking black long hair, stylishly arranged with purple-dyed tips, added a unique touch.
Her curiosity piqued, she leaned in for a closer gaze but lost her footing, tumbling through the shrubs and fractured branches.
Sakura plunged onto her side and landed on the dirt path, directly in Athen's line of sight. She shrieked as a sharp pain snaked up her spine.
Athen extended his hand like a samurai in golden armor. In a light Australian accent, he asked, "You alright? Bloody hell that must've hurt."
At first, Sakura hesitated to speak a single word. The idea of opening up to him filled her with fear. She had spent her lifetime building emotional walls to shield herself. These fears consumed her thoughts, a constant presence that shadowed every corner of her mind. She always assumed the worst in those around her to avoid the pain of being stabbed in the back once more.
However, at that moment, his genuine worry for her well-being struck a chord deep within Sakura's heart. No one had ever shown such care for her, igniting a love that would forever bandage their souls together.
"Grand, yeah," Sakura replied, her eyes wide and uncertain, like a deer caught in headlights. She reached for his hand, feeling the coolness of his large fingers as he pulled her gently to her feet.
Athen studied her, sensing her unease. He said, "You're Sakura, right? Recognized you from class. I never heard you speak before. Are you... Irish?"
She narrowed her eyes defensively. "Yeah, so what if I am?"
A gentle breeze stirred the silence between them, ruffling their hair. Athen watched her turn and began to walk away, sensing the walls she'd put up. He knew their classmates' cruel comments, singling her out just for being different.
With a sigh, Athen stepped beside her, his voice steady and soft. "Didn't mean any offense, mate. I'm not like those other Bogans in class. Come eat with me sometime."
Sakura walked further down the winding dirt path, resisting the urge to open up to Athen, though she felt undeniably drawn to him. "Why me, lad?" she asked finally, her tone guarded.
Athen's cheeks flushed as he searched for the right words. He didn't want to risk scaring her off. Taking a steadying breath, he replied, "I like you. Let me take you out on a date."
She narrowed her eyes. "And how do I know ya' won't drag me somewhere to humiliate me in front of a camera?"
Athen let out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You should know better than to believe I had anything to do with that daggy mess. I'm not one of those ratbags, alright?"
Sakura turned away to hide a smirk, fighting a growing warmth she wasn't quite ready to show. "Fine. Where am I meeting ya' tomorrow?"
Behind her, Athen paused, grinning ear-to-ear as he quietly pumped his fist in victory. "Meet me at the old zoo by Bee Rock," he called after her, his voice barely containing his excitement.
Without looking back, Sakura waved as she walked further down the trail to the park's exit, unaware that this was the beginning of something that might change her life.
Years later, he disappeared without a trace. Each day, she longed for his return, clinging to the hope that he would return to her. For months, she fell into a deep depression, watching the seasons blur by, her world empty without him. With no one else to confide in, her life slowly unraveled—until today.
Sakura carefully gathered the top layer of her shimmering hair and skillfully tied it with a cute, oversized black bow. She began her daily routine with eye shadow, applying her eyeliner precisely. Sakura preferred simple attire, a choice influenced by her discomfort with her body. Today, she opted for loose-fitting, long black pants paired with a plain hoodie.
After slipping into her comfortable black flats, Sakura ventured outside, where the sunlight greeted her. She squinted, using her hand as a visor, adjusting to the bright world beyond the mansion's walls. Robbie had waited for her in his brand-new 2017 Porsche 718 Boxster, sparkling in pristine white.
Settling onto the opulent black leather seats, Sakura watched as Robbie inserted his favorite CD. When he shifted gears, the engine purred to life, and they embarked on a journey through Los Angeles streets.
Robbie's gaze momentarily drifted toward his daughter. He asked, "Sakura, what happened to you last night? What's making you so upset?"
"I don't rightly know what I witnessed, but a lass birthed twins before savage wolves killed her. She named her daughter Sakura. Both the lass and her mam looked the spittin' image of me."
"The human brain can be a powerful organ. Your head was playing tricks on you. The Irish found you covered in soot. They tried to identify you, but nobody claimed you."
"Where in Ireland?"
Robbie sighed, "I don't know. I'm sorry, Pipsqueak."
Sakura smiled and replied, "Haven't heard ya call me that in a long time."
Sakura delicately rested her elbow upon the windshield frame, cradling her head with her palms. She recalled her time at the pediatric psychiatric treatment center she had lived in miles away from Los Angeles. Her days had followed a tedious routine, carefully structured and devoid of personal agendas. The rigid schedules of therapy sessions, group activities, and medication regimens had bound Sakura.
She had entered the indoor recreational room with chairs forming a circle in the center of the spacious room. A few had already sat down with the psychiatrist. Sakura had dragged herself to a chair and reluctantly sat down.
Waiting for the session to start, she gazed at the psychiatrist, wearing round glasses with some beauty marks on her cheeks—a long white medical coat over a sunflower dress. One after the other entered the room wearing different facial expressions. Some had been happier to be there, while others had looked like death.
The psychiatrist cleared her throat to begin the discussion and said, "Good morning, everyone. We have a bigger crowd today, fantastic. Will our new guests introduce themselves?"
The room was silent, and the annoyed girls rubbernecked each other. A few heads around the room fumed with anger. Sitting next to Sakura on the left, a girl with a swollen rope burned around her neck. She had short orange hair and freckles across her nose. Her skin was cold and pale, like a corpse. Her eyes had sunk in as if she had seen what was beyond the other side of life. Sometimes, Sakura heard her groaning.
On her right side, a young brunette girl in her first years of elementary school had been sitting in a fetal position, resting her head on her legs. Further examination showed a scar across half of her left face. Someone burned this little girl. Everyone in the room had only imagined what brought her there.
A teenage girl with bright yellow hair and fair white skin clicked her tongue over the roof of her mouth. Her brown eyes rolled as she sunk into her chair. The psychiatrist was interested in her and said, "Would you like to introduce yourself and tell us why you feel that way?"
"My name is Lemon Underhill. This is stupid. Can I leave now? I want to go back to my room."
"Why do you think this is stupid?"
"I don't want to sit here and waste my time listening to other people's problems."
Sakura waved her left arm to get everyone's attention. "Every story here is a lesson to be learned, lass. The individual trauma that brought us here can help others, ya."
"What the fuck is that accent you have? Are you special needs or something?"
"Don't be makin' fun of me Irish accent just because you be havin' a perfect day, ya bollox."
"Go back to your fucking country, leprechaun."
The psychiatrist had said, "Hey, we don't use that language here."
"I am not Irish; I just lived there for some time. I'm not here by choice."
"Fuck this," said Lemon. She had stood up from her chair and returned to her room.
"Language," the psychiatrist had repeated.
A young brunette had crossed her arms and legs to lean back in her chair. She had asked, "Why is she so angry?"
"Our past created our present behaviors. We're here to fix that. We have twenty minutes left. Let's use our time wisely."
As the brief time continued, Sakura became bored and dozed off to a disassociated stance, and before they knew it, the session was over. The patients had time in a carefully designed outdoor recreational area to break from the clinical environment.
Sakura stepped outside to see vibrant flowers burst forth in various hues. The gravel beneath her feet crunched softly, and benches nestled beneath shady canopies. Sakura assembled in her usual spot on a little white bench near the only door allowing entrance to this park. She relished the warm breeze feeding her smooth skin.
The outdoor space's centerpiece was a tranquil garden. Various recreational amenities dotted the landscape, catering to patients' diverse needs and interests.
The psychologist exited the facility and sat beside her, smiling at the beautiful, warm sky. This woman had not amused Sakura at all. She sat there and frowned, avoiding eye contact, hoping she would take a hint. The psychologist refused to step away; Sakura had resisted peer pressure for as long as she could.
Sakura sighed deeply and asked, "What do ya want?"
"I wanted to see how you've been doing."
"Waitin' to leave."
"You're lucky those friends of yours found you just in time. Taking a handful of OxyContin would have killed you."
Sakura reflected on the night she reached her breaking point. A cycle of initial enthusiasm marked every career path she aspired to pursue, followed by relentless emotional abuse from her instructors for not learning as quickly as the students. In those early weeks, she would give up, feeling defeated and questioning her purpose. What was the point of trying if she couldn't excel in anything? She wondered.
Sakura smirked and said, "That was the whole point."
"We have a program here downstairs in the gymnasium called Addictions Anonymous. I highly recommend you attend. I'll give you some time to think about it."
"I'm not an addict; it was one time."
An abrupt jolt roused Sakura from her trance. The car stopped amid a prosperous sea of luxury vehicles.
Robbie's soothing touch graced her shoulder; his voice sought to ease her disoriented senses. "Wake up, sleepyhead. Time to get up."
Sprawling through the movie studio lot, Sakura trailed alongside Robbie, weaving through the alleyways between towering buildings. The atmosphere was alive with a ceaseless burst of activity as mobs of industrious workers bustled about, ferrying parcels and set pieces to various destinations. Robbie spotted his colleague and warmly embraced him. If Sakura's memory served her correctly, Kevin had worked alongside Robbie for sixteen years.
Kevin Church was an American director at Hollow Knight Studios in his early fifties. He said, "You made it. Is this your daughter I've heard so much about?"
"Yeah, I hope it's okay. She's here," Robbie replied.
"Of course, she's always welcome here," Kevin said, extending his hand to Sakura. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sakura finally. I've heard some great stories."
Sakura offered a warm smile and a nod, feeling self-conscious. Her internal thoughts seemed to reject her social instincts. It was an odd moment of silence, and Sakura scolded herself for not saying anything sooner. She felt too awkward to speak up now.
Sensing the tension, Robbie stepped in to ease the situation. "I was filming my first lead role movie when I became her legal guardian."
Kevin nodded, acknowledging the connection. "Ah, yes, that role moved you into stardom."
Robbie chuckled and patted Sakura's shoulder. "I've got to head to my changing room, but I'll catch up with you inside."
"Yes, I have a meeting to attend, so I'll see you later," Kevin said, waving goodbye as the group parted ways.
Father and daughter walked in silence toward a small, unassuming building. They slipped through a discreet white doorway hidden in a back alley and found themselves in a narrow hallway with closed doors. Each door bore a piece of paper with a celebrity's name neatly printed.
Robbie's eyes scanned the names as he murmured, "Let's see… Lopez on the right, Kim's room is at the end. But where's mine?"
Sakura's gaze wandered further down the hall, where a larger, more distinguished door caught her attention. A gleaming nameplate with her father's name was affixed to it. She pointed ahead and said, "There ya are, da."
Robbie stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping slightly as he stared ahead. He chuckled softly and replied. "Wow, Kevin didn't have to do that for me."
"Sweet," Sakura muttered.
The gleaming white door with its golden plaque seemed to beckon them. Robbie stepped forward, his hand hovering over the bronze doorknob before slowly turning it. The door creaked open, revealing a room that felt alive with possibility. Inside, a makeup artist and a hairstylist stood by a sleek leather bar chair, illuminated by a classic Hollywood mirror framed with glowing light bulbs.
Robbie's face broke into a smile as he stepped in. "Hello, ladies," he greeted warmly.
"Hey, Robbie!" the hairstylist replied with a cheerful grin. "Welcome back to the set."
"It's good to be back," he said, his tone genuine.
Sakura settled onto a nearby folding chair, her eyes following every movement. She watched intently as the woman prepared to transform her father into someone entirely new—a character yet unseen on the big screen. A faint but hopeful smile spread across her face. This could be the role that would make him more famous than a king.
"So, who are ya supposed to be this time?" Sakura asked.
Robbie eased into the chair, the mirror lights catching the edges of his grin. "A forty-eight-year-old man who reluctantly becomes a superhero," he said. "Not your typical caped crusader."
Sakura's lips curled into a faint smile as she leaned back. "What did the fella do to become a superhero?"
Robbie shrugged, exhaling softly. "They gave me a script that's mostly redacted. But from what I gather, he's an office worker who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time."
"I hope ya'r character's loved by the little lads who need ya the most."
Robbie turned his gaze toward her and whispered, "Me too."
The stylists worked tirelessly for hours perfecting Robbie's hair and makeup while he entertained them with stories. He reminisced about the early days of his career, back when he was merely a background actor on television shows, sharing nostalgic and humorous tales. His laughter filled the room, a sound that made his daughter's heart swell with pride.
But as she sat quietly in the corner, Sakura's thoughts began to drift. Pride for her father mingled with the gnawing uncertainty about her future. Her childhood had been a patchwork of temporary dreams. All of which burned brightly for a few months before fading like the change of seasons. No path had ever felt like home.
She glanced at her father, watching him thrive in a world that embraced him effortlessly. What would it feel like, she wondered, to know exactly what you wanted to be and to chase it with everything you had? For now, all she could do was sit on the sidelines, observing as others built their dreams brick by brick while her own remained an unfinished blueprint.