Baku

Karis was never alone. Baku had been there for as long as she could remember. The patchwork teddy bear followed her everywhere, content to sit by her chair at school, or tumble about the playground together, sometimes as big as a house, others times small enough to sit on her lap. And she could always depend on Baku to protect her when the monsters came out at night. 

Her parents loved that their daughter had an imaginary friend. For a time. Once Karis grew older and her parents became skeptical Baku was the true culprit for mischief around the house, she stopped speaking of the invisible bear.

Around this time, she noticed the Door. It constantly lurked at the edge of her vision until she looked at it. Baku, one day, stood by the freestanding portal, the wooden structure whitewashed and set with a brass knob. Her friend swung the Door open and beckoned with a tiny paw. Through the frame, she saw a violet ombré scene interjected with puffs of blue. It was mesmerizing. But she shook her head. Karis knew once she entered, there would be no return.

Then that boy ruined everything. He was in her homeroom during sophomore year, a selfish boy who was deaf to the word “No.” Baku snapped the poor boy’s arms with his terrible paws. It would have been worse if Karis hadn’t stopped her enraged friend. The traumatized boy said the only thing that made sense to him, “The girl did it.” She tried to explain Baku was only protecting her, but she only received concerned stares.

She would not have minded the asylum (Baku was with her after all), but the medication was terrible. Baku watched helplessly as she spent her days listless and rendered inert. Finally, on a more lucid day, Baku beckoned her to the Door once again. She gratefully took her soulmate’s gentle paw and stepped in. And they fell through the heliotrope sky filled with periwinkle clouds.