My father's soul still lingers around these four walls, his possessions still holding sentimental value to him- even in the dead. The room he died in is a few yards away from here, the knife that was used to stab him washed and put away, probably not to ever be taken out again for any reason at all. The flower patterned tiles that once held my father's crimson salvation are mopped and disinfected, the ting of bleach and lemon cleaner being the surrogate for the stench of stale blood. If anyone were to come in and look around to observe anything of difference, they couldn't bring themselves to find anything.
The broken lamp that was used to stun my father had been swept up days ago. The yellow extension cord used to tie him up had been rolled up and thrown away long ago. The bodily fluids that had been left from the attacker, as well as my father, had been dusted and cleaned some time ago, but the memory of my father screaming out for help still stands, my mind still not being able to shake the traumatizing events that only occurred two weeks ago.
My friends know about his death, their condolences not being enough to fill in the void of having no one in your corner. I lost my mother a few years back, now I lost my father, only relative I have that can legally take me in is my aunt Aikido- the drug/sex addict. She lives in the bad part of Tokyo, Japan and I am expected to live with her until I am eighteen years of age. I don't want to go, but I must, legal issues standing in the way of my decisions for I am nothing but a minor. My friends know nothing about my moving, so there is no need to tell them at this point in time. I leave for her apartment tomorrow. The only reason I am still in this crime scene is because I am packing up what little belongings I own, court officials saying it's best to bring everything, a little keepsake of the happy times I had with my father.
This is the only time I can retrieve such items, school lets out at four and club lasts until six, the bus ride being an hour from school making it seven, seven thirty tops. If I didn't come today, I would have never been able to come back, authorities claiming the evidence in the crime scene needed to be free of any debris they may acquire from my visit. Funny thing is, I am standing here in the very room I was in when it all happened, bound, gagged, and blindfolded as I heard everything happen, smelling and soon seeing everything soon after all had went down. The perpetrator was unknown to me, but clearly known by my father. I don't know what he looked like, or what he wore, all I know is his voice, a malicious voice holding icy texture and sadistic qualities. If I heard it, I'd know.
"Haruhi, you ready? You're aunt is expecting you within an hour."
"I thought I leave tomorrow?"
"She won't be in until late tomorrow, so you'll have to go tonight. That okay?"
"Hai" I faked a smile at the only police officer I trusted, her kind and compassionate demeanor allowing me to seek her for comfort. Similar to a mother figure. "I'm done."
The last thing I take is the only photo I have with both my mother and father. They are smiling as my father has his hand on my mother's stomach, she's pregnant with me. All the other photographs are either lost or gone, my father saying they were in storage, but with him not here, it's not any useful information.
With the click of my suitcase coming to a close, I quickly grab the worn out handle and slowly begin to trudge towards the door, Kimi standing there waiting patiently with that signature smile on her face. The only thing I see as I look back is my father's bed and the shadow of me, the dark shadow trailing behind me as if it can catch up, but both she and I know it can't. It's being left behind along with everything I once loved, my body still here but my soul gone.
A/N: I was inspired to do this one from this certain song and I figured it fits Haruhi perfectly in an odd way. Feedback is highly welcome. If I made a mistake, I would love it if you guys let me know.