Everything felt like a dream. My legs kept touching the floor. It was a nervous tic I had. Every time the heel of my shoe touched the floor, a faint echo could be heard in the hospital hallway.
My entire body was filled with anxiety. My breathing was uneven, sometimes even labored.
My whole body was trembling, there wasn't a bit of my soul that was calm at that moment, and I could hardly speak.
I waited for the doctors to tell me something, sitting on a bench against a wall in that same hallway.
It was bright, thanks to the lights, which flickered from time to time. Some were dimmer than others, but the one above me dazzled me more than any other. It made me dizzy.
Everything around me was spinning. My eyes denied what they saw. My ears ignored what they heard. I could only hear noise and see light.
I thought it would be the morning light, trying to wake me from a dream.
But it was a light that dazzled me, as if someone were looking down on me, angry. Making me pay for my sin by blinding my sight.
Is it distracting me so he doesn't think about anything else? If so, it couldn't be a more pathetic attempt. There were so many things catching my attention; the most offensive was the clock in front of me.
Hours. Only hours had passed. I can't decide what to think about. About now, or before? Was there even a clock when I sat here?
Everything looks red. Blood. The light reflects off the blood and dazzles me even more. Everything turns red.
I can't make out anything. I don't know which are my hands and which are my feet. Am I really still dressed like that? Is everything really stained red?
It's impossible. I just wanted to live a normal life. This isn't real. I'm not here. I'm at home, sleeping, resting.
No! I don't want that! It's my duty to be here. I have to be here.
Tomorrow I'm going to school, yes. It's Sunday already, so tomorrow I'm going to school.
I refuse to go to school! I'm going to stay here as long as it takes. I'm not leaving here, not until-
"Tick tock tick tock…" The hospital clock was what woke me up.
It sounded louder than usual. Almost as if it wouldn't let me hear anything else.
I don't remember anything from the moment I got home. I only know that an ambulance came, and later, the police.
They called my father, and as soon as he could, he came to the ambulance. Now I'm here, waiting near the emergency room.
He waited by the door to the aforementioned room, in a place where he wouldn't be disturbing.
Every second that passed felt like an eternity. After so much walking, and then waiting, you'd think I was tired, but that wasn't the case.
I had my head resting on my hand, which I held from my forehead, and the arm of that same hand rested on my leg, while the sweat on my face slowly trickled down.
I hadn't bothered to clean myself up at all, not even taking off my cosplay, although my hair was completely messed up.
Hours and hours passed, during which I sat, without going to see my father, or without moving my eyes from the ground.
I couldn't look ahead; it was as if something was holding me back. I didn't know what to think, I didn't know what to do, I didn't know anything. How could I?
Even though I avoided thinking about anything, I did imagine things. I imagined outcomes. Good, bad, tragic, horrible, catastrophic—every blink was 10 stories completely different in every way.
But they all had one thing in common: A shade of gray that I couldn't get rid of.
Every now and then, a strong nausea would invade my body. I felt like throwing up, falling on the floor and fainting, or punching the wall until my knuckles shattered, but I pushed through it all.
I wanted to go home and lie down in my bed, but I also wanted to stay here and wait. At least I felt less and less tired. I wasn't relaxing, but I felt like I was resting.
As I sat down on some chairs fixed in the hallway, my dad approached me. He said he wouldn't let her be alone, but fuck that, I guess.
His face was serious but expressive, with a hint of displeasure and concern.
At first, he stood there, staring at me, trying to say something, a comforting phrase, or something else, but he couldn't.
Even in his halting attempts to speak, his weak tone was evident. And when he saw that I couldn't speak like that, he sat down next to me. There was a long silence, which lasted until I decided to speak.
"She..." I said, my voice agitated, but somewhat serious.
My father said nothing, but, gritting his teeth, showing his frustration, he nodded.
Even though I was the one who asked, when he nodded, it still shocked me. My legs stopped moving, my body stopped shaking, and I raised my head, though my gaze was still directed at the ground.
"The doctors said it was almost impossible for her to survive. The only thing they could do was close the wound and try to revive her. They also said that the serious thing wasn't the wound, but the blood she's lost because of it." The weight of every word my father said was palpable. His voice, even in the face of the situation, sounded firm, though it couldn't help but show a hint of regret in it.
When I heard this, I began to wonder why they hadn't had time to help her. Whether it was the doctors' fault, my fault, or just a twist of fate. But what troubled me most was what she told me afterward.
"They also told me that, judging by the scene, it looked like a slightly fresh cut. If you had arrived a little sooner, she wouldn't have died."
' Recent? ' That question echoed in my head as if I were in a cave, and when I connected that to the meaning I'd invented, I brought my hand to my forehead.
" If you had arrived a little earlier, I wouldn't have died."
No, if I hadn't gone to the convention in the first place,
I wouldn't have done that in the first place, but if only I had gone home earlier, if I hadn't talked to anyone, or if I hadn't wasted my time doing stupid things...
Even before, if I had helped her, if I had forced her to go out with everyone, if I had been by her side, if…
'Don't leave me alone.'
If I had been by her side whenever I could, if I had insisted on sleeping with her every night, if I had just kept her company when she was alone… Why could she never have friends?
Friends…
It's the fault of where she lives, the people around her are all idiots, shitty pigs who can't appreciate what's good and what's not.
" So that's why you abandoned her, too?"
No… I haven't done anything. I've helped her as much as I could, I've tried to make her trust me, to make her not see herself as a burden. I just wanted to spend more time with her…
"Your hands are bleeding."
...?
I opened both palms, which were clearly empty, but when I saw that, I stood up from the spot.
"I can call someone to take you home, and that way you'll rest even more. It's better to turn off your mind if you're only going to think about nonsense. " My father told me that after I got up. Even after saying something like that, I didn't flinch. It even seemed normal to me.
He didn't get up; he just sat there, staring at me, as if he were forcing me to choose.
"B-first, I want to go to…" I replied. I couldn't finish the sentence, but he nodded anyway. I stood up and started walking.
I didn't know exactly where I was, so I had to ask the doctors who had just finished surgery. They all looked at me with a sour look.
Most of the hospital was dark, only the lights in some hallways were on, which seemed to be a guide to where I had to go.
When I arrived at the room, the door was open. There was a doctor standing in the doorway, who asked for my father. I told him where he was, and he went to find him.
They let me into the room. The stench inside made my body squirm with every step I took. There were two doctors in the room, both frustrated. Even though they had their masks on, their eyes spoke volumes. Especially if they stared at me.
When they saw that I was inside the room, they both quickly apologized formally, to which I didn't respond, I just asked one thing.
"Can I see it?"
They asked me if I really wanted to do it, if I was sure, since she was covered by a tarp. I said yes.
" What are you looking for with this?"
I approached the stretcher. I went at a calm pace, since, for some reason, I was calm. I thought I'd feel fear in a situation like this, but that wasn't the case. I had no emotion inside me at that moment.
I raised my hand, held it on the sheet, grabbed an edge, and slowly lifted it until I saw what was underneath.
For a moment, I couldn't see anything; there was no one under the sheet. Only when I blinked did I see her.
She was lying in bed, breathing gently. The doctors told me everything went well.
I wanted to talk to her. To tell her everything I had inside me. I felt like I could shake her shoulder lightly, and she'd wake up. Her face was more alive than ever.
I moved my hand toward her, lightly touching her cheek. Then, I stroked her hair. I know she doesn't want to admit it, but she really likes it.
Well, that's a lie. When I was little, I used to ask my mom to do it all the time, sometimes she even asked me to.
I turned around as soon as I stopped petting her. The atmosphere calmed down a lot, and everything became gentler. The light was pleasing to the eyes, and there was nothing that made me deaf.
" Relief? Safety? Affection?"
As I left the room, my father spoke to me.
"In 69 minutes, you'll be discharged. Let's go home and be happy, son!" my father said, delighted with the outcome.
I don't regret coming here, or seeing her, because I know she's just asleep.
I'll see her again tomorrow when she wakes up. Even if I'm going home, I know everything will be okay.
This Saturday, I'll show her the figure I bought, ask her opinion on how the cosplay looked, and what she thinks about it.
I'll tell her what I've done, and the people I've met. I'll tell her how I was up there on that stage, singing with &$%"!. Then I'll play with her, I'll talk to her, and when she trusts me more, I'll have her tell me what's happening to her, how she feels. I'll comfort her while she cries her eyes out, feeling her tears fall onto my chest.
'You only get hurt more'
Then, in the afternoon, I'll go with her into the city. We'll see a thousand and one interesting places and things, and do a lot of fun things. And, while we're out, we'll have dinner somewhere we see. It could be a ramen stand, a restaurant, a fast-food restaurant, anywhere. Of course, I'd pay, although I'm sure she wouldn't let me, using the excuse that she's the oldest and that she has to do that kind of thing.
On the train ride home, we would both fall asleep halfway through the journey, or at least I would fall asleep with my head on her shoulder, and she would fall asleep with her head on mine.
By the time we got home, we'd be tired and exhausted, so we'd go straight to bed. She'd be reluctant to sleep with me, mostly out of embarrassment, but she'd eventually agree. I'd cuddle her at night, stroke her head, while she'd beat me up for doing so.
" You confuse yourself without knowing it."
On Sundays, I'd have breakfast with her and my dad, the three of us having a conversation about anything: the news, a TV show, even video games, or life in general.
In the morning, I'd let her have some personal space, especially since she'd tell me herself I looked like a moth attracted to light. She'd probably babble things like, "I'm so pretty, and the only person I'm attracted to is the idiot in front of me," and call me disgusting and a freak.
After a while of fooling around, I'd leave her alone and go to my room to do whatever.
We'd eat together, the three of us, and have a leisurely lunch. Afterward, I'd help clear the table, and for once, I'd help my sister get ahead on some household chores, whether it was doing laundry, cleaning the living room, or taking out the trash. And when I got tired of doing that, I'd take a shower.
In the afternoon, I'd go out with all my friends. I'd also ask my sister if she wanted to go out with us.
" Are you even going to see her again?"
At first, I'd decline the offer. I know her well enough to know she's just embarrassed to just agree, so I'd ask her again, and then again, and again, and maybe she'd say yes, she'd go out for a while. I already know she'll be out all afternoon, but, well, let her think what she wants.
" Are you planning on going to his funeral?"
It'll be fun to go out together. We'd do whatever we wanted, walk around like we were lost, or talk about whatever topic came up. About what we've been doing, what we've been thinking, or things we want to do. Just talking is enough for me.
We'd all end up exhausted after talking, laughing, and running around like animals. I'd be happy. Yes, I'd be happy, because I wouldn't have had time to think at all.
Whenever I think, out of nowhere, about something that used to be happy, it's bittersweet. I'm happy, but I never feel what it's like to be happy, or understand what it's like to be happy. How can one truly be happy?
" You can't be happy being here."
When I'm in the moment, I laugh at everything, and I never feel sad. When I think about the moment, I only laugh at the things that make me laugh, and the slightest bit of distraction in my head, everything turns dark. Can you be happy knowing you're happy? Is being happy something unconscious? When I cry, I don't think about anything else but crying. Is being happy the same thing?
" Dreaming is not free."
What was I talking about? Oh, yeah, I was crying.
What about? I don't know. I don't remember.
What happened today? I'm tired.
Did I forget anything? I should go to sleep.
Isn't this your room? I'm sleepy…
Why am I not in my room? Good night…
"Good night, and don't leave me, if you stop being with me, I don't know what I'll do."
Yes, I won't leave you alone. I feel your warmth, your smell, your heartbeat, everything. I want to feel it all. That's why I won't leave you, ever again.
Amaya… AmÇ+a… ^[Ç+a… ^[Ç+?…
Riku managed to fall asleep after a long sleep. He didn't think about anything the whole night. He didn't want to in the first place.
1.
A familiar smell woke me up. It wasn't coming from outside, but from inside, from where I was right now. Where was I?
"Oh, that's right... I ended up sleeping here..."
I was getting out of bed, but after sitting down, I stared at the floor, as if someone had just turned me off.
I don't know how long I was like that, but when I paid attention to the bed, I snapped out of it. It wasn't my bed, nor my room.
When I was lost in thought, my mind wasn't blank; I was thinking about everything. I got out of bed to grab my phone and check the time; it was 1 p.m.
I decided to go to my room. With the mood I was in, I didn't want to be there.
When I got inside, I went to drink water from the canteen on my counter, but it was empty. Frustrated, I went down to the kitchen to refill it.
As I was filling it out, I noticed my father was nowhere to be seen. I haven't been to his room yet,
So he can either keep sleeping, or, if you look at it from the bad side, he'll be busy.
After filling the canteen, I returned to the room I was in. I entered unconsciously; I wasn't going to stay there in the first place. For a moment, I thought the light was on, or that the window was open, but I was greeted by a dark atmosphere.
I wasted a lot of time there. I did nothing but lie on the ground, occasionally wandering around, or thinking about why I didn't want to do anything, thinking I was tired of doing nothing, but then continuing on.
I was feeling bored, but I didn't want to distract myself with anything either. I thought about taking a nap; I was sure my head would hurt when I woke up if I did.
In the end, I decided to just rummage through the room, since I didn't know what else might be lying around. Although... I feel like I'm forgetting something.
Didn't I have to bring something here? No, even more important...
" I have to change my clothes..."
Yes, I was still wearing my cosplay from yesterday. I have no idea how I was able to fall asleep wearing a tracksuit, a zip-up jacket over it, and how uncomfortable it generally is to sleep in normal clothes. Pajamas exist for a reason.
With that in mind, I started taking off my clothes, although I realized I should fix my hair first. I had to smear it with hair gel to get it the way I wanted it, and I think I went a little overboard.
As lazy as I was, I ended up taking a shower, without any music. I didn't feel like listening to anything. Showering was enough of a hassle.
As I stepped outside, while drying my hair, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was already looking at myself, but now I wasn't looking at my hair. I was looking at myself, as if I'd never seen myself before.
I was in a terrible state. I had dark circles under my eyes and slightly red eyes, I'd blow-dried my hair incorrectly, and overall, I was paler than usual.
But I felt like this body wasn't mine, at least for a moment. I felt like someone was behind me, my conscience, as if they were watching me from behind, trying to control me, but only able to see what my body ends up doing.
When the hairdryer started burning my head, I came back from my daydreams and pulled it off my head as fast as I could.
"Don't I look worse than usual?" I said, looking down at my body.
I didn't give it much thought, maybe I had just gotten up on the wrong side of the bed.
I also took the opportunity to change my clothes. I grabbed some underwear from my room and brought it to the other one, looking for something to wear. All the clothes there were my size, so I could wear whatever I wanted.
I ended up opting for a pair of sky-blue pajamas. It wasn't anything special, though I did notice it came with a separate hat. I've never understood why these things exist; the only day of the year I see these kinds of hats is Christmas, but I've never understood it for sleeping. Animals are cute when they're wearing them, but if you're wearing one, you look silly.
Even though I already had something on, I kept searching through the closets, as there were not only clothes but also seemingly random junk.
Toys, games, boxes—there was everything. Most of it was just junk, and it only had value for one reason. Every now and then, I'd remember a certain moment with a toy or a craft from there, but little else.
I ended up emptying the closet, and that's when I realized something.
At some point, I'll have to save all this. Why would I even think of putting it out in the first place?
I decided to leave it for later. I didn't want to do it.
I stared at the room after that, especially at the two bookshelves it had, which were neatly and somewhat prettily decorated.
It was clear that whoever made it organized it with love and care. There were mostly books and manga, with the occasional figurine. Everything was organized in the first one, but I wish I could say the same about the other shelf. That one was truly chaotic; it had everything you could imagine, like Doraemon's pocket.
I got bored of looking as soon as I saw that mess, so I sat down on the chair in the room, and raised my head, staring at the ceiling.
There was nothing there, just a row of wooden boards stacked together, with almost no gaps between them. They could have painted them, to make it look better.
As I stared at the planks, my mind went blank for a moment, blank, yes, blank…
" It's not worth it to play dumb like this, you know that, right?"
Huh? Dad?
I looked at the bedroom door, and it was still closed, and definitely no one had entered the room.
Ahhh, am I going crazy from boredom or what?
I jumped up from my chair abruptly, and looked around the room for something to do.
Although, it took me so long to do it, the thing to do found me first.
*Beep*
"Mh?"
I reached for my phone, thinking it was a text from &$%"! or my dad. Contrary to what I thought, it was a number I hadn't registered.
"Spam? By LINE?"
After entering LINE, I read what it said:
["Hello! How was your night?"]
["I'm Izumi, from the convention. You remember, right? I hope you do…"]
Well, I couldn't have been more wrong... And why are you writing to me now? In any case, you would have written to me yesterday if you wanted to talk to me.
I lay down on the bed, but because it was facing in an awkward direction, with the sun shining in my face, I ended up lying on my side.
[Hello, complete stranger. I don't know who you are. If you're spam, I'll block you.]
["I know you're lying!"] She wrote, followed by an angry emoji.
[It's not like you have cameras in my house]
["Well, yes, many, I have many!"]
[Yes? So what am I doing now?]
["Taking out my finger"]
[...Hey, you're not serious, are you?]
["Are you serious? Did I get it right?"]
[Yes. I'm going to call the police if you don't turn off the camera.]
For a moment, I thought it was strange that I was so lucky to guess that, well, I just hope there really aren't any cameras around here...
["Leaving that aside, how are you? I've asked you and you haven't answered."]
[I'm fine]
["You were quick to respond…"]
[And you? Are you okay? Or are you embarrassed to answer?]
[And it didn't take long for you to laugh at me, too!!!]
[That doesn't answer my question!!] "Ah, I wish I could express sarcasm in writing, now it seems I'm angry, or surprised... And yet I prefer to talk via chat, what a kid I am…"
["It was fine!"]
[And why not now?! I'm too good for you that you get depressed knowing you'll never be like me?]
["Hahaha! You wish!!"]
Hey, am I really talking to that girl from the convention? Isn't that Ayame?
[Are you really Izumi?]
["But what is this personal attack due to now?!"]
[It was a serious question]
["Well yes, I'm Izumi, disappointed?"]
[Oh no, it just seemed weird to me]
["I'm going to tell on my sister…"]
[What?] After that, Izumi sent me a voice recording. Obviously, it was Ayame.
{"You're cyberbullying my sister, aren't you? Well, I know where you live now, so get ready, because-"}
{"-I'm going to make you a dinner so bad you're going to die!"}
{"What?!"}
Mid-sentence, Izumi, who was holding back her laughter, interrupted Ayame, who was uttering such outrageous things in a sarcastic tone, and who was also laughing a little. Oh, that's right, I told them where I lived. At least, the city.
[Well, you don't know the address, so good luck finding me!] It took Izumi a while to reply.
["Well, I've escaped from my sister!"]
[Congratulations]
["You're lucky my sister hasn't cooked anything for you yet."]
[Are you bad at it?]
["Saying that your thing is cooking badly would offend people who cook badly"]
[So I should be offended?]
["Yours is probably worse."]
[Now tell it to my face]
["I bet I do it!"]
[Mh! You have no balls!] Afterwards, she sent me a video, in which she appeared with the phone camera in selfie mode, pointing at her face, and Izumi staring at her.
{"S-surely what you do in the kitchen is a crime!"}
It was the most pathetic threat I've ever received. Not because of the message, but because of the voice... You can tell he's dying inside, hehe...
[Now without being embarrassed]
["Be quiet!"]
The rest of the conversation wasn't relevant. We threw questions back and forth, mostly about each other's personalities and all that, and occasionally we laughed at each other or said things like druggies, at least I did.
I say this as if I'd been spending hours like this, but it's not like we talked that much, since it didn't even take half an hour for the conversation to end.
[Hehe, Banana Girl]
["If you continue with that joke, I'm going to block you…"]
[Okay, okay, I'll stop. Banana girl]
You have been blocked by --------, you cannot send messages to-
"Bah, she'll unblock me… I hope so…"
I left my phone on the counter and lay back down on the bed.
I had lost the desire to speak, and had returned to how I was before, staring at the ceiling, not knowing what to do.
It was as if whatever I had planned to do at this moment had slipped out from under the mattress…
"Talking about mattresses, this pillow's gonna break my fucking neck..."
I started bumping my head lightly against the pillow, and something stopped me sooner than I expected.
It was more or less hard, or at least that's how it felt to some extent, as if something was sticking out of the mattress, or in this case, the pillow.
I unzipped the pillow and there was nothing inside. I touched it and, yes, that wasn't the problem.
I checked to see if it was just where I was, and no, it was all over the top of the mattress.
It was slightly raised, as if a lump had appeared out of nowhere.
I notice it a lot now, but I didn't even notice before. Did I really sleep in this bed?
I looked under the sheets, and, just like with the pillow, there was nothing unusual. I was too lazy to open or lift the mattress at that point.
" It's not like I have any other choice."
I lifted the mattress slightly. Looking underneath, I could clearly see what was causing the bulge to protrude from the bed. It was the same color as the wood and took up a considerable amount of space.
It was a rope.
2.
" ...?"
It was just one end of it; I couldn't see the other side yet, since the mattress was on top of it. Instead of lifting it any higher, I decided to pull the rope.
It came out relatively easily, though that wasn't what surprised me. At the other end of the rope, there was a knot tied. It wasn't uniform, more like a clump of string. However, at the end, the shape of a teardrop was formed.
I instantly let go of the rope and took a few steps back. I was surprised at first, but my face quickly showed signs of both desperation and anguish.
" I know if something good happens to him, he'll come and rub it in my face without a second thought."
"What if something bad happens to him?"
"...She'll tell me. If I ask her, she'll tell me. It's not like she's weak anyway. If something bad happens to her, she'll probably just brush it off and move on."
The words I'd said back then came flooding back to me, like a joke. Why did I think about that? Why had I never thought differently? Was I so afraid of judging myself? Am I a fucking hypocrite or something?
Did she never trust me enough to...
Riku, what do you think of me?
No, no, no, that's not true. Even if she looked worried, you could tell she wasn't depressed. She just wanted to hear my opinion about her. Isn't that normal? Just because she did it once doesn't mean that-
" That happened 4 days ago."
It was so recent?… But then, when did you start feeling like this?
"You'll never know"
"Because?"
"Because she never wanted to say it"
"And she had to stay quiet, without saying anything!?"
"Yes, since he never had anyone to talk to about it."
"...?"
"You never offered her help, so she didn't want to trust you."
"…"
I slowly brought my hand closer to the rope, gripped it like glass, and fixed my blurred gaze on the knot within. It was pathetic.
I wanted to laugh at how horribly it was tied up. It wasn't even a knot, it was a mess that even the person who made it couldn't fix. Even if I was staring and commenting on something completely irrelevant, my body knew it was the real deal. I was shaking.
" Why was he wearing a scarf?" the question returned, after having found the answer.
Those images played in my head like a movie, over and over again. I couldn't remember anything, anything except that moment I opened a door.
The first time I did it, there I was, lying in bed, with a scarf, after the ceiling vent handle fell off.
...He hid this so quickly?... My mind was filled with anguish.
I fell to my knees, my head completely drooping, defeated. The blue of his eyes, and the red of that moment, mingled in my vision like yin and yang, never quite meeting. Or so it should have been.
Me. I broke the balance. Red began to invade the space of blue, and blue the space of red. In the midst of all this chaos of colors, something completely new emerged. Black.
Everything went black. And the longer I stared into that void, the whiter the world I was in became.
It happened without me even realizing it. From one day to the next, it went from having the same colors as always to becoming this abyss. I didn't even bother to witness the change; I just waited for the final result.
I don't know how many times she's told me this, but every time I defend myself, I know I'm right. I didn't do anything; I was just trying to help her. I…
" I let her die on this floor. Twice..."
As I brought my hand closer to the ground, I could feel my soul slowly concentrating in my fingertips, my whole body growing colder and colder, until I could make contact with the wood.
I was cold. All the summer heat dissipated in an instant; the ground was cold. Just feeling it made my stomach churn. I couldn't bear that sensation affecting my entire body, which, as if on purpose, lost some of its warmth. It was as if the ground had stolen it from me, as if, little by little, I was freezing to death…
My fingers lost the warmth they'd had, then my palms followed, and finally, my arm. I felt a horrible cold, not deadly, but one that made every fiber in my body beg for the warmth I'd wasted. I could have believed my arm had been completely frozen.
My hands were still touching the floor, my entire palm making contact with the planks. Despite the cold, the sweat flowed perfectly from my body to the floor. Thanks to that, I knew the only thing frozen in this room was my mind.
Little by little, I began to understand what I was touching better. I felt as if I knew the location of every atom in every piece of wood covering my hand. Rather than a pleasant and comforting sensation, it was disgusting and repulsive. I didn't want to feel so much. It was too much for my head to handle.
In the midst of this trance, a reddish substance began to seep between the gaps in the boards, rising through the spaces left by my fingerprints. It was a dark hue and advanced slowly and evenly, covering more and more of my flesh. More than a liquid, it seemed like a gelatinous, fleshy mass, binding me to the floor like a shackle.
I was excited when I saw this, and I tried to take my hands off the ground, but I couldn't; they were stuck to the floor. Something was preventing me from taking them off. A force was holding me still so I couldn't escape.
Little by little, my fingers sank into that meat, whose smell, with a peculiar metallic tone, pierced my nose without any mercy.
What had once been a thin layer had become an increasingly dense mass. Eventually, the mass covered my entire hand. From that moment on, I was able to move.
I didn't hesitate for a second to take my hands off the floor, focusing now on removing all that disgusting material. It didn't stick to me again when I tried to pull it off, and I was able to get a considerable amount off, but I couldn't completely eliminate the crimson hue wrapped around them.
I could feel the flesh growing more and more solid, refusing to leave my hands, but I didn't want to give up, so I started scratching and scratching, to no avail. I had no other choice; I didn't want to be like this. This wasn't my fault, it wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't.
I have done nothing, this is not a result of my crimes, it is proof of my desperate but well-intentioned attempts.
Yes… I've done what I could, and if I still haven't prevented it, then it was inevitable, I… I couldn't do anything. This is just proof that I tried.
Even if I had been by her side, everything would have ended the same. No matter how much I appreciate her, or how much time I spend with her; how much I help her or how much I push her, everything would have ended the same. People never heal easily.
That's why I'm innocent, I haven't done anything wrong, I...
Everything was enveloped in that abyss projected onto the ground, a red so dull it looked more like the black of night.
" You could have done the impossible."
No, no, that doesn't make sense. The impossible can't be done because it's not possible, so I couldn't do anything.
" Whether it's possible or not, and whether you can do something or not, are different questions. If the thing you want to do is something that exists, something that can be real, it's perfectly possible to do it. It's only impossible to do something if it's something that doesn't exist, or something that can't be real under any circumstances."
So why couldn't I do anything?
" You know better than anyone. You thought you wouldn't be able to help, which is why you left her room that day, instead of trying to comfort her a little more. And she didn't complain. You weren't able to help her because—"
She didn't accept my help?...
" No, it's because you never offered it to her, and she never asked you for it."
But I asked her if she was okay, and she asked me what I thought of her. How can you say I've never supported her, or been by her side, if there wasn't a day I didn't talk to her?
"Don't get me wrong, you were talking to her, and she was talking to you. The problem is that the "she" you were talking to was the "she" designed to face the world, and the "you" she was talking to was the "you" everyone thinks you are."
That's just nonsense! There's no other person who's "me," or "her"! We saw each other every day, and we spoke face to face!
And if what you say is true, if I have never spoken to her, then who should I have spoken to?
" With me"
" And with me"
A second voice joined the conversation. I couldn't see anyone, of course; there never was anyone in the first place, but it was distinct from the repulsive voice I'd been hearing until now. It was much softer, gentler, and more serene.
"You can only interact with others when you know what you are made of, when you know your worth, what you are like, and what you are.
" But don't think you'll get anywhere if you only know yourself, but never face what's out there."
"Because if you don't let that 'you' see and resist the world it lives in, you'll never be able to live."
"You'll only live in the world your "I" can see. A world worse than a lie."
" An illusion."
"A false hope."
"A dream."
The drop of sweat that fell from my eye woke me up from that trance.
3.
He was kneeling on the floor, with his palms
of my hands touching it. They gave off a certain warmth, which they shared with the cold wood they touched. At least, that's what it was like.
My body wasn't shaking, though I was still agitated and nervous. The only thing that stood out about my figure and condition were my hands, which had raised marks with a faint red hue on them, as if someone had scratched them.
Of all of them, there was one that was much more vivid, a mark that was no longer faint, but bright red; it was more than a mark, it was a wound.
A drop of blood began to ooze from the wound on my right hand. This wound was slightly deep, as if a layer or two of skin had been torn away.
"… ", I remained silent, with no idea how I had done it.
I began to feel more heat in my hand, along with a slight stinging sensation. Along with this, I stopped touching the ground, adopting a kneeling position with my back straight.
Turning my attention to my injured hand, I watched as the drop of blood that had already flowed from it fell. Luckily, it fell on the floor, instead of on my pajamas, although seeing that same stain on the floor filled me with unease and concern.
I wanted to at least put on a Band-Aid or something like that, not so much to make it heal better or prevent infection, but to keep it from bleeding more and staining even more things. Of the thousand and one things in the bedroom closets, there were two packages of Band-Aids, one with a few left over and it was open, and the other was brand new.
They were normal bandages, although the one I used didn't stick very well to the wound. I don't know if it was because of the size of the wound or if the adhesive on the bandage was bad. I was lucky to find a pack of bandages that easily, especially since I was in this room.
I also grabbed a wipe from the package on the counter in my bedroom to clean up the drop of blood on the floor. I wasn't going to use the mop either; it would be a waste of bleach, but that's not the reason I'm cleaning it like this. I'm too lazy to go get the mop.
Well, that's it... Oh no, I'm missing this...
I realized I had to get rid of the elephant in the room: the rope. Just looking at it made me sick, but to avoid getting worse, I cleared my mind.
I can't give myself the chance to think. With that sentence, I ceased all thought or comment.
I undid the horrible knot it had. As lighthearted as I say it, it took me more than half an hour to untie. I don't want to do something like that again in my life; it's left my fingers in tatters.
I decided to leave it in the shed in the "yard" of our house.
My house is one of those houses where the living room has an entire wall, which is more like two huge sliding windows, which give way to a small patch of land, which has nothing on it except grass, apart from the small shed where we stored things when it suited us.
I just hope my dad doesn't think it's weird that there's suddenly a rope in here, although, well, it's not like he knows exactly everything that's in here...
Now, I'd finally solved the problem I'd caused. Just one of them, because I still have to pick up the stuff I've thrown away, and at the same time, sort out which ones are trash and which aren't.
Along with this, as I was looking through the other closet, I wondered if my father had saddled me with some clothes when I was little that no longer fit ^[Ç+?. I don't feel like these are hers, except maybe for the color or style.
Okay, it's pajamas I'm wearing now, but I'm talking about clothes in my closet.
These are things I don't dislike, which are based on sweatshirts, jackets, and T-shirts, and long or short pants. Since we're in September, there are days when it's too hot to wear long pants, but too cold to wear shorts. Can't nature decide what temperature to set?
It's a silly thing to think about, but if for some reason I have my sister's old clothes, everyone wins, I'm happy with them, and my father saves money.
I hope they did that.
"The more things that remind you of her, the worse it will be for you."
Huh? Well, at least I've had something interesting to do so far, talking to Izumi and untying that rope.
The problem is what to do now...
I wandered around the room, observing the carefully maintained areas, which were only the bookshelf and countertop. On the countertop was none other than a computer, which was obviously good, or at least its appearance gave that impression.
As far as I know, it was bought from ^[Ç+? when my parents were still together, so it wasn't a huge blow to my dad's wallet either, since that bitch started working a while after my grandmother died, and she entrusted ^[Ç+? and me with the housework, although it was always my sister who did them.
I've always been lazy...
I also have one, though it's not as good, but it's enough for me. Just being able to play whatever I want is enough for me, and that's it, although I've been enjoying reading more and more lately. I hope I don't give up on that habit too soon.
Back to the computer, I think I know its password, although if not, I suppose there's a piece of paper hidden somewhere with the password, the worst part will be having to look for it.
I don't think it's hidden in places like drawers or on the bookshelf, so I'd have to search the room even more.
I'm sure I'll come across a porn game cartridge, a porn manga, or even more porn magazines.
I have no proof that I could find something like this, it's something I made up to annoy people, although it's losing its charm more and more, and who am I going to tell anyway, apart from ^[Ç+? ?
If I had to go looking for that paper, I could take advantage and clean the room. It wasn't very dirty, but I could remove the dust that had accumulated.
Well, let's get to work.
I sat down in the chair, plugged the power strip connected to the computer into the power outlet, and turned it on.
It was your typical tower PC, with its zillion RGB lights, although it was set up so that all the lights were a combination of different shades of blue. How envious, but what good taste at the same time. Long live the color blue.
And so, I brought my hands to the keyboard, and began to guess.
I don't know what she'll think when I tell her I tried to break into her computer... I'm sure she'll hit me.
4.
Time passed, and I couldn't find the password. Who knows how many times I tried, but there was no way, so I just stopped trying.
Well, it all comes down to me having to search…
The desire I had to do it went away much faster than the desire to make one… yeah, that's it.
I'm not going to start cleaning now, even though I said I would just a little while ago. I wasn't going to complain if I found some secret stuff hidden away, but still...
Where would I put that kind of stuff?
I thought about the bookshelf full of books, which was the most viable option. It was a place that stood out, but not enough to make you think something was hidden there. Too bad I know those tricks.
I got up from my chair and headed to the bookshelf. Before doing anything, I took a picture of how everything was arranged, just to ruin the order.
I started removing books, leaving them on the bed, and in the process, looking to see if there was anything inside one, although that would be strange, really.
Soon, I left the bookshelf empty, with no trace of any notes or disturbing secrets lurking there. You could tell he was disappointed he hadn't accomplished anything.
I decided to reorganize everything back to how it was before after I got on the computer, so I started looking at random places to see if there was anything there.
Even if I still had hopes of finding something, they faded after a while, as I ran out of places to look. I sat back in the chair, defeated.
"Seriously, what was the damn password?"
How come there are people who can enjoy things like this? Can't you just write the password on the back of the monitor, or leave the piece of paper under the tower?
…Well, I haven't looked there yet...
It turns out the paper was under the tower, which hadn't occurred to me until now. Great, now I had to clean up my mess again. Thanks, me.
Whatever, I was able to find what I wanted anyway. Although I still had that feeling of disappointment inside me—I hadn't found a single magazine, not one! I'm not angry, just slightly annoyed.
I didn't hesitate to type the password into the computer, which, once accepted, turned on in almost no time.
I just wanted to transfer all the important files to mine, since I don't know what to do with it. I don't want to keep it; that would be incredibly disrespectful, but I also don't want to throw it away.
Normally, my sister would have her computer with half the screen filled with shortcuts to games and the like, with an animated wallpaper, but that seemed like madness when I looked at the computer now.
Almost all the icons on the desktop had been mercilessly erased, and the wallpaper that had previously adorned this monitor had been replaced with a pure black background, nothing striking. The only thing that stood out was a single icon in the middle of the screen: a folder. It had one word for a name: OPEN ME.
Contrary to its name, I didn't want to open it. I refused to do so. I denied the existence of this folder in general.
It's not true, it's not true, it's not true, I repeated unconsciously in my head.
I was afraid.
"You know perfectly well what this is, don't you?"
I was scared, but I felt I had to open it, whether I liked it or not.
Without further ado, I clicked on the folder. It revealed several text documents, each following a clear pattern:
For Riku; For Dad; For Mom; For &$%"! ;…
There were about 10 documents in total, each with a person's name. They were addressed to someone, either a relative, me, or even &$%"!
They were all addressed to someone, except the last one, which was called "Excuse me. "
My whole being was on fire with nerves, and not in a good way. I had to read it, I was going to be the first to do it, I already had a defined task after this, but still, I didn't want to do it.
I took my hands off the mouse and keyboard, and placed them both in my lap as I stared at the screen, not making a single noise, as my nerves took control of my leg again.
I just felt a cruel sensation, the sensation of feeling nothing. I wasn't thinking about anything, I wasn't focusing on anything. It was as if my head was trying to process information it was avoiding receiving.
But, I couldn't stay like that for long.
I grabbed the mouse with one hand and clicked on the last document in the folder. The document app opened, and in the short time it took to load, I clenched my free hand into a fist, as if to give myself strength to—
The text loaded, interrupting any thoughts I had at that moment.
I hesitated, questioned what I was doing, and wondered what this document was, but I decided to read the text in front of me. I had to do it.
As his brother, I had to do it.