Todos os capítulos de Amara's Diary: When Nothing Free Ever Lasts: Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 55

I have no comments on the final performance other than this. It was a disaster, I also have no idea what Kurata-san was thinking. Maybe the sight of the cameras intimidated him, during the performance he even changed his playing, in the third verse of the song, it was as if he was trying to overshadow Tani-san. At the end of the song the air was odd, charged by that awkward display, that made everyone avoid looking at each other. The judges looked just as confused as I felt, as we all tried to process what just happened. Pansy-san, a hot-pink-haired female vocalist and guitarist from the band Tattletail was present. Back in her day of fame she was constantly compared to Lorraine-san as they both loved hot pink hair and were often confused to be the same due to their similar voice. She was the first to break the silence. "What just happened?" When no one could answer her she asked again. "What was that? Hello?... Why is no one saying anything?!" She leaned forward to glare but when

We were all gathered downstairs for breakfast when Claire hesitantly made her way down. I spotted her peeking behind the glass wall, from the barstool of the kitchen counter. "Oh, Claire." I've been here for three days, but this was the first time I've seen her.She hesitated at the sight of us."Good Morning." she tried. "Morning!" Izanagi beamed. As she shuffled past him to the fridge she paused. "Um...I'm-""You're good. We're good." She studied him a bit before becoming more Claire-like. There was some bubble in her step when she retrieved a pitcher of orange juice before making her way to the stove where Amara rolled an egg. For some reason, she thought it was a good idea to stick out her head in front of her over the frying pan. "Good Morning!~" Her rejuvenated mood and bubbly smile all seemed to bounce off Amara who shifted away from Claire entirely as she plated the dish. Claire stood there frozen for a second. Maybe Amara was trying to protect her from the oil, or mayb

There were a lot of things said that I couldn't ignore, as I stood before her bedroom door I mulled it over. I've never thought of what it's like to be a Black American, what's it like to grow up internalizing that history of mistreatment and death, the impact that would have on her psychology: her view of the world and of others. Recalling her not wanting me to help carry her bags, I realized now that it was much deeper than that. Has she steeled herself to being disliked, and not accepting help? Was it because of her Race, or her upbringing due to the absence of a Father? Did she really believe what she said?I lowered my head as I knocked on her door. "Amara?"I heard a muffled sound, and opened the door to see her screaming into a duck shaped pillow.I closed the door behind me. I felt uncomfortable, and hesitant on how to broach the subject. Claire's stunt had clearly spooked her so let's start there. I didn't ask for permission to approach, and simply sat on the bed next to her.