BEDRIDDEN AND BORED
A/N: Written for Writers Anonymous' Alternate Format Challenge. Includes a summary of episode 24 to the end of the anime and Betray Me Not.
Thanks to VStarTraveler for providing another set of eyes.
All disclaimers apply.
February 12, 19675
I guess the biggest challenge you face when you're a bedridden amputee is finding a way to kill boredom. Like today, it's no different from yesterday, two days ago, three days ago... Honestly, I think the whole week is just the same. I wake up, do some exercises with my residual limbs, get visited by the doctor, clean myself with Mika's help, read the newspaper, talk and play with Mika, and sleep again.
Life is flat and colorless if you happen to be bedridden.
What I can think of to give my life more colors is writing down what has happened in the past few weeks. Yeah, there are many things worth remembering... I just hope that my memory is truly as strong as an elephant's, like Mika says.
January 26, 19675
I knew I didn't have much time left. My body was dying; even though I couldn't smell a thing, I could sense my impending end through the weather. When the night wind blew, it chilled me to the core. It was like my body had lost the ability to warm itself.
As time went by, everything worsened. Breathing became a challenge. Cracks slowly spread across my parched skin. Hours later, my legs lost their strength and flexibility. Like a sick old man, I dragged my feet and toes as I walked.
As much as it hurt me, I had to break Mika's heart like how I broke her mother's thirteen years ago. I had to tell my child that I was about to die, while I still had a job left unfinished. Of course, a little girl couldn't hide her sorrow like an adult did, especially if she had no parents to begin with. I watched her cry, hugging me tightly while begging me not to leave her.
I wished I could live with her as the father she had never had, but... Her parents might never tell me this, but I knew they wanted revenge — especially her father, whom Harry murdered before Mika was even born. I bet he wanted Harry dead, so that order would return to Millennion. I bet he wanted his daughter to, someday, continue his legacy by leading the organization.
I had no choice but to knock her out and leave silently. My eye grew wet as I did.
The day ended with me passing out on the desolate pavement, after one of Harry's bodyguards shot my left arm off.
January 27, 19675
Death is a release from pain. It seems like Mr. Biscoe, the new boss of Millennion, knows that.
Today, I finally had Harry cornered, but I just saw him as the boy I used to laugh and cry with in the orphanage and the streets. I couldn't bring myself to kill him. No, I couldn't even let him die. When Millennion agents came to execute him by themselves, I attacked them and earned myself the label "traitor." Even if Harry had once been a bloodthirsty tyrant, he was still my best friend. I didn't mind giving up my right leg for him.
Only when we decided to kill each other did I manage to shoot him. Both of us were going home. Both of us would be eternally happy with our deceased friends and family in the afterlife... But then, his gun had no bullets. Perhaps I was destined to die at the hands of the organization I'd just betrayed.
No. It seemed like I was destined to continue living with them. All because of Mika pleading with Mr. Biscoe to spare me.
Why couldn't I just die? I couldn't face Mika! Or perhaps she wanted me to live in guilt and shame.
But then, I realized that she was never angry with me. She saved me out of love and naiveté, not hatred. She just wanted me to have another chance in life, so that I could see how my future was never as dead as I thought.
That day, after getting a big, warm hug from her, I made a promise to myself before falling asleep.
I would never betray her again.
January 28, 19675
Nobody can betray Millennion and get away with it, except maybe me. Taking care of Mika gives me some power in the organization.
I knew Mr. Biscoe wouldn't let me slip away. Sure, he'd let me rest up yesterday and allowed my amputation wounds and stiff muscles to heal a bit, but now he had a task for me. I had to eliminate a group of rebels. To do that, I had to put on an artificial leg.
When I first saw that prosthetic limb in Dr. William's hands, I shuddered. It was made in just one night, without anybody coming to measure my height and the size of my stump beforehand. The prosthesis ended up very short and tight, and worst of all, it lacked a good knee joint. But I could only accept the punishment. I was a traitor to the organization.
It was Mika's existence that kept me encouraged. When everything was over, I could live peacefully with her. That was why...I decided to make up for my crime by showing how terrifying Mr. Biscoe could be when it came to punishing a convict. It was so that his underlings wouldn't betray him. It was so that Millennion could last until Mika grew up.
Honestly, I never expected things to be over that fast. When I returned from the mission with my wound reopened and infected, Mr. Biscoe saw how I suddenly fell down and lay on the ground like an overturned turtle, gasping for breath and helplessly struggling to get up. He told me that I deserved something more humane than this, but I believed Mika's quiet rage and tears moved his heart. Perhaps the doctor's anger played a role in that, too.
When the day ended, he decided to forgive me and let me rest.
January 29, 19675
Dr. William visited the trailer in the morning to take care of my wounds and teach me a few basic exercises for my residual limbs. Then, he asked me a lot about my condition. I mean, a lot. Am I feeling better now? Did I sleep well last night? Do I still have a fever? Is there blood and pus coming out of the wound on my residual leg? Any other complaints? I think there are some more, but I can't remember them all.
The doctor's visit actually allowed Mika to ask him a lot as well. Since yesterday, Mika had always wondered if I actually needed an oxygen mask. It turned out that I often yanked the tube off in my sleep. If Mika found it disconnected to the tank, she'd fix it right away so that I wouldn't suddenly feel out of breath and wake up. But my child was a little girl; she couldn't possibly stay awake all the time. Last night, I happened to pull the tube off and leave it on the floor for hours, but I never woke up.
After the visit, I did nothing other than stay inside my trailer. Mika accompanied me all the time, fetching the newspaper for me, talking and playing with me whenever she saw me awake, covering me back with my blanket whenever I kicked it away in my sleep... If I could starve like a human, she would surely bring me the best food she could find.
Our role reversal is funny, isn't it? It's still happening right now, as I scribble in this little notebook.
January 30, 19675
What happened today? I thought I had to count the days to remember something. Hmm, it was the third day since I got a proper treatment... Yes. Today was when the doctor first changed my bandage, and an excited Mika watched it. Heh, I remembered how she tried to act strong.
She did that because she loved me. I understand that, because everybody used to be a child, including me. That's why I know that only a mommy's and a daddy's love can bring the brightest, happiest face out of a child. If that child is an orphan, the guardian will replace the lost father and mother.
Then I remembered something. A while back, when I was dying, I somehow forgot about a child's love to his or her parents. Luckily, Mika kept reminding me of that. Three days ago, Mika asked Biscoe to save me because she loved me. I deserved another chance in life, according to her. But in truth, she had another reason. Which orphan wouldn't be happy to see her foster parent succeed in escaping death?
Yeah, I remembered that very, very clearly today when she, with Dr. William's guidance, washed me from head to toe. She, too, never took her eyes off the doctor when he cleansed my wounds and changed the dressings.
"I want to learn how to do that," she told me. "If the doctor isn't around, I can change the bandage."
But she couldn't hide her attempt to not wince. I didn't mind; after all, which kid wouldn't grimace at the sight of a bleeding wound, especially when it looked like an oversized centipede on the skin? I bet when the doctor finally removed the surgical drain from my residual limbs, she would cringe away.
When the visit ended, I spent the rest of my day reading the newspaper, talking and playing with Mika, and napping.
January 31, 19675
Let me count the days... Today was the fifth day since that incident. Hmm, the renewal therapy. I got that every five days unless I was critically injured.
Today, I was scheduled for a renewal therapy after Dr. William's visit. One therapy cost over forty million yules, but it could be higher or lower, depending on how good Mr. Biscoe was at negotiating with the black market. Dr. William says it could've been much cheaper if Millennion could receive the blood from the blood bank, but one couldn't possibly request blood for a corpse.
I slept throughout the therapy. When I woke up, I just continued my day with the same activities: reading the newspaper, talking and playing with Mika, and napping. I don't think I remember anything else. Or maybe there's nothing worth remembering other than the renewal therapy.
February 1, 19675
People say one may go insane when the boredom is too overwhelming. I guessed I was an example. Recently, I'd been feeling like my amputated limbs were still around. It sounded silly, but I was sure that my lost hand had just pulled the trigger of a gun. And my lost leg... I thought the invisible toes twitched from time to time.
When Dr. William visited me in the morning, I asked him about that strange thing. He said it was my psyche that conjured up such a strange sensation. To get rid of it, I must stop thinking too much about my lost limbs.
Considering the situation, I didn't think the phantom sensation would go away anytime soon. I was bored. And annoyed. Since the loss of my limbs, I hadn't gotten to see the sunlight. Hell, I hadn't even gotten to see the parking basement of Millennion Tower. Every day, I saw nothing other than the gray metallic wall of my trailer. God, I missed walking.
How did I spend the rest of the day? I'm not writing it out again. I bet you know why.
February 2, 19675
The doctor brought me good news during the visit. He told me that my wounds were healing nicely; hell, he even removed the surgical drain from my residual arm (and I remember Mika's grimace so clearly, because she told me that it was like watching the doctor pull a big tapeworm out of my body). My wounds bled much less today, according to the contents of the drain and the lack of blood on the worn gauze pads. My leg still needed the drain for a few more days, though, since the wound was once infected.
However, he estimated that he could remove all the sutures next week, meaning I could learn to walk again and get back to work soon. You may think I'm a workaholic, but I'm actually not. I'm only that hardworking because of a debt.
Telling you, I'm forever indebted to Mika. She's given up everything for me, including her dignity as a godfather's posthumous daughter. Think about it. A daughter of a rich mob boss will never live in a chilly little trailer with a reanimated corpse, let alone help that monstrosity clean himself or even give him a bed bath because he can't bathe by himself. She'll definitely prefer living in a cozy mansion with a butler at her service.
Although everything was still the same after the visit, my phantom limbs bothered me less than usual. I was sure that the sensation would've subsided completely if I hadn't thought too much about getting back to work quickly.
February 3, 19675
One week was a long wait, especially when there was nothing special in your day. Meaning that I wouldn't have much to write on this page.
Like usual, I woke up, did some exercises with my residual limbs, got visited by the doctor, cleaned myself with Mika's help, read the newspaper, talked and played with Mika, and slept again.
February 4, 19675
I don't know what to write on this page. Maybe there's nothing worth remembering after all. Maybe the phantom sensation worsened? I don't remember.
February 5, 19675
Still nothing special. Just a renewal therapy and then the same thing.
Then I realized that I made a mistake. I should've counted the days before writing the entry for today. Two days had passed since the doctor said something about my leg.
Yeah, today he finally removed the drain from my leg. Again, Mika winced and hugged my good arm at the sight of the bloody tube. She thought this hurt me a lot, but in truth, I only felt a tugging sensation under my skin. I couldn't sense pain as a reanimated corpse.
But I always liked it when she asked me about that, because from that alone, I could conclude that she cared for me. She had long known that I was a dead man and my inability to feel pain was no secret to her, but she could still ask such a question.
February 6, 19675
Is there anything worth remembering today? I don't think so. This time, counting days doesn't help.
Guess I'll just rant instead of reminiscing. But I thought this might be what I was thinking at this date.
I start to wonder how some people can enjoy sleeping that much. Personally, I think it's tiring. That day, my whole body started to ache because I lay too long on my bed. I couldn't even sleep again; even if I could find a comfortable position, I couldn't close my eye.
Sadly, there were still three boring days before the doctor came to remove the sutures.
February 7, 19675
I'm not sure if I remember anything, but I guess I might be reminding myself that there were just two days left. However, because everything was just the same every day, forty-eight hours sure felt like forty-eight days.
Hmm, did I manage to sleep that day? I don't remember, but pretty sure that the answer is negative.
February 8, 19675
I remember this day a lot. Although I didn't get to do the boring routine, this day pained me.
The colorless environment was driving me nuts, along with the same stuff I did to spend my time. But the doctor's response to my question about the sutures pushed me over the edge, although he'd removed those from my residual arm.
"Even after removing the sutures, it doesn't mean that your wound is completely shut. It still has a chance of reopening when given too much pressure, so you'd better wait for a few more days before considering getting a proper prosthesis."
Although I was in no condition to get up and couldn't possibly reach that defective prosthesis, when the doctor was about to leave, I forced myself to my feet in a fit of rage. Yes, feet, because for a moment, I managed to stand up like I still have both legs intact.
I was stupid. I should've known that I would delay my wound healing that way. Falling would reopen my wounds.
And yeah, the day ended with me bawling like a child. I just slept after I'd cried enough. I did nothing, talked to nobody, and played with nobody after the incident.
At times, I think I'm childish.
February 9, 19675
After a long nap yesterday, I felt better. When I woke up, though, I was surprised because of something warm on my chest. Apparently, Mika slept on top of me.
I couldn't help but think of her as a newborn baby. Like a typical mother- I mean, father, I stroked her head and back. I bet this must be what her mother used to do when she was still a baby. I was sure of it, because my mother used to do this when I was a baby.
When she woke up, she told me that she wanted me to be happy, not angry. She also wanted me to know that she could bear with my crankiness. So, when I was sleeping last night, she crawled onto me and slept.
Yeah, she did warm my heart that way.
But again, that was another boring day. I'm not explaining why, because I bet everybody already knows the drill. Also, my insomnia persisted.
February 10, 19675
Again, there wasn't much difference other than the renewal therapy. I can't remember if I managed to sleep or not.
February 11, 19675
Still another same day I guess. There's nothing worth remembering. How boring it is to be a bedridden amputee.
February 12, 19675
I must admit that I've spent an hour or two writing down my memories in my book. It delights me because I've managed to spend my day for something else. But then, when I reread my writing, I just realized that everything isn't 100% similar. Although I've been spending my days doing the same thing in the past few weeks, there are actually quirks that make many days unique.
Maybe when you're stressed out, you can't think clearly anymore.
I guess I learned an important lesson today.
- Brandon Heat