Day One.

    The hotel room had nothing that could be used as a weapon. There was a beige bed, a minute, oaken nightstand, and the bathroom had only the simplest toiletries sitting on a small shelf in the shower. The television was elevated on the wall from a sturdy stand. Harumi considered shattering the tv, but it wasn't like the glass would do her much good. She'd tried to break the window, but it wasn't even made of glass. It had been made of some sort of translucent rubber--impossible to shatter.

     Harumi spent the day trying to ram the nightstand through the front door—maybe she could attract another hotel guest's attention—but no one came. She tied all the towels and bedsheets together (for the unlikely event that she could break the window), but it was neither long enough nor sturdy enough to help her survive a twenty-story drop. Finally, she yelled and pounded on the walls out of desperation. There was no response. Her throat was sore, her back ached, and her stomach was killing her.

     There'd been three sealed meals sitting by her door when Harumi woke up that morning. She didn't know where they'd come from or who was providing them, but she raucously ate them when her stomach demanded it. She was still so thin, so underfed from a year in the dregs of Ninjago.

     Harumi decided to camp by the door, so she could ambush whoever came in to give her food. She was not staying in a hotel room for the next seven days. She'd spent too much of her life trapped to relive it days before her death.

     Day Two.

     There was no food. And now Ru's head ached from a lack of sleep. Wordlessly she wandered around the tiny space, bored out of her mind. She spent most of her time staring out the window or mindlessly watching the tv.

     It was the television that told her Ro was safe.

     Reporters were in a tizzy over the break in at Kryptarium Prison. They explained that only one prisoner had escaped: Morro Wiggins, or Princess Harumi's alleged kidnapper. He'd pleaded innocence when interrogated and had resisted when he was told he was going to die by the firing squad.

     Authorities were out trying to find him now, but so far, their efforts were coming up fruitless. Harumi knew Ro would stay ahead of the police if he had his wits about him. If there was one thing Ro could do, it was stay alive and out of sight.

     There it was again, that longing in her chest. Harumi did truly wish she'd gotten to know him better. She felt as if they could have been good friends in another life. Maybe even lovers. Now she'd never get the chance, and Ro would spend the rest of his life thinking she betrayed him. At least he was alive. That was what mattered most of all.

     Day Three.

     The reporters were shocked to find a large part of downtown Ninjago City had been totaled. So far experts had found over seventy bodies in the wreckage, and the count was rising with each minute they spent digging. Harumi broke a nail when she caught sight of a sliver of white hair hiding in the dust and debris. Then she saw a news reporter step over a glinting biker helmet and a discarded pike.

     She now knew why the Sons of Garmadons weren't threats to the Ninja.

     Day Four.

     Harumi awoke with a strong urge to wash her hands. She stood in the bathroom, letting steamy water run over her palms for over half an hour. Her critical gaze focused on the steady flow of liquid; her heart throbbed in her fingertips as the droplets cascaded down her hands.

     She could still see his blood there.

     Hutchins' blood.

     Yes, there were many things that had gone wrong with her life. Harumi could admit that now, as she tried not to shudder from the invasive feeling of liquid. But even after the abusive hands of her parents, after the prying eyes of the press, after the stern coldness of the Katsukis, Harumi shouldn't have killed Hutchins. She should have known better. She should have just injured him enough to escape, and then left him behind forever. He was kind to her. He was the one person that didn't deserve to die.

     Ru gently switched the water off, staring down at her empty, wet hands.

     For the first time since the murder she grieved.

     When she finally wiped her hands off, clearing the water, she looked down at them.

     There was no more blood.

     Day Five.

     She'd been blinded by ignorance. There had been good things about her biological family, but there wasn't enough. The little semblances of love here and there—a pat on the head, a kind word of encouragement, a story read at bedtime—kept her childhood self starving for more. Harumi knew that her parents were capable of love. She just had to be the perfect little child, and then they'd give it to her.

     But her biological family wasn't kind.

     They beat her, starved her, yelled at her. They sent her outside to stand in the freezing cold while they argued inside, because they didn't want her to hear their screams. They slapped her face when she spoke out of turn, or when she asked questions. And they told her they'd beat her again if she told anyone at school it was them who make the marks.

     Her mother was an addict and her father couldn't keep a job to save his life.

     They were wicked, awful people who had a chance to build a better life. Yet they squandered it. And they made themselves miserable in the process.

     Harumi had put them on a pedestal because they were her parents. They were the only family she'd ever known, and she'd certainly take a constant fear of beatings over the methods of a gluttonous press. In a sense, her biological family was the better of the two lives she'd lived. She was still living in the fantasy that if she returned to it, she'd get those few morsels of love her family offered every now and then.

     Harumi had been wrong to treasure those moments.

     Her biological parents had warped her sense of family.

     And this time, Harumi found she couldn't forgive it.

     If she could start all over again, Harumi knew she could be better than her parents.

     She just needed a chance to try.

     Day Six.

     A defense mechanism. That was what Nya said. Harumi ruined every relationship she built to keep herself safe from attachment. It made sense when Harumi thought about it. The only loving relationship she'd formed in her innocence was with a pair of people that abused her unconditional love. It made sense that she'd self-consciously try to avoid that again.

     She murdered Hutchins.

     She kept Ro at arm's length, refusing to get to know him.

     She told herself she hated Lloyd.

     And she turned Kai in to be beaten and tortured.

     But... what if she'd held on?

     Harumi focused her mind on that day with Kai, where they ate pancakes and watched Lloyd goof off. She imagined his warm hands clasping hers, Lloyd's laughter echoing in the background. She could practically feel the golden rays of the sun against her face; she could taste the bitter salt in the air.

     What if Ro was there too, laughing as he chased Lloyd across the square?

     What if they'd all stuffed themselves with pancakes, chattering about sports and fishing and other tepid topics that filled the time with joy? What if Kai hadn't let go of her hand? What if he never did, because she and he were a family? Just like Lloyd said.

     A single tear dripped from Harumi's cheek, sliding down the curves of her face and hitting the bedspread below her.

      She had loved Ro. He'd been her brother, her protector, her savior in her lowest moment of darkness.

      She had loved Lloyd. She loved his stories, his mood swings, and his enthusiasm towards encountering the world.

     She had loved Kai. Her heart truly had fluttered when he came near or when he showed affection, and she liked it when he worried about her safety, when he walked her home "just because."

     She wished that in another life, she hadn't let them go.

     But in this life it was too late.

     Day Seven.

     She sat on the bed all day, not touching the meals. Whoever was bringing them to her had figured out she wasn't going to try and ambush them, so the meals came regularly. The tv host talked about the weather and how it was going to rain in a few days. Harumi was as still as stone, awaiting the weapon that would strike her down.

     The day passed in blips of sounds and color, and it wasn't until twilight that she heard anything stir. Even then, it was the tiniest of movements, as if her murderer wanted to come upon her silently.

     Harumi closed her eyes, swallowing down her fears. She'd made her peace with this life. It hadn't been perfect, and she certainly hadn't handled it well. But perhaps someone out there would hear her story—however convoluted it may be—and know that they could do better. That thought alone gave Harumi enough courage to face the blade.

     It was time to end this chapter of her life.

     And hopefully next time she opened her eyes, she'd be welcomed into Hutchins' kind arms.