I don't own Ouran.

I Don't Have a Name for It, Yet

Prologue — Numb

And she was dead.

And there was nothing I could do.

And sometimes...

Sometimes I so desperately wished that the truck driver was indeed not watching the road, but only because I know that he was. The whole time, he was looking. And he did it on purpose.

And she was gone.

Just gone.

Just like that.

And it hurt.

It hurt just knowing that dirty old man, that truck driver killed her with no remorse; felt no pain jolting him to very core, like mine; knew no heavy guilt or unbearable weight upon his chest, suffocating...

And it hurt because only I knew the real reason why.

Because that beautiful girl, that one who was dead, was in that romantic park with that wonderfully handsome boyfriend of hers. And that boyfriend's gift to her was there too. That diamond ring she had been wondering about was in a box, in front of her, then slipped onto her slender finger! On that day, he saw her.

The ring! It was real, tangible—unbelievable!— and her eyes sparkled with mirth as her fingers ran over the shiny gem; her delicate pink lips separated slightly in awe, letting the smallest gasp escape.

And that man watched as that girl wrapped her arms around that boy; watched as she planted kisses on his cheeks; watched as she looked upon him, enamored. That man watched as she got in her car and drove away to that gas station.

That gas station where he tried to take her home, with that devious gleam; where she kicked the air, her glossy brown hair flying about wildly; where she screamed, the tiny capillaries in her slender throat bursting, the taste of blood flooding her senses; where she fought that man with tears in her eyes until she could get back in her car and drive away.

And that is why he killed her.

Because she ran away.

And it hurt because no one believed me.

For the longest time, her totaled car would sit in the garage, her yellow jacket hang in her closet, and her woven hat collect dust on a chair, untouched. Her blue sneakers would wait patiently under her bed while her brown sunglasses would sit forgotten on top of the dresser until I finally let them clean out her house.

And that beautiful girl would rest in a dark place, deep in a dirty hole in the ground, marked by just another grey tombstone in just another plain, old cemetery.

That beautiful girl with beautiful eyes was my Haruhi.

And she was dead.

Dead and gone.

Never to be seen again by human eyes. My eyes.

And I would not believe it.

I could not.

I absolutely, positively, beyond a shadow of a doubt, refused.

But then, the shock started to sink in.

And I started to cry.

For hours, I lay in my backyard, staring at the clouds, or the stars, or just looking into the darkness when my eyes were closed, I would start to cry. I would not even think about her. I would not think about anything, in fact. I would just lay there and weep.

I was not thinking about anything. Just watching. Watching the brilliant blue sky turn gray. Watching the storm clouds roll in. Just watching. Until it started to rain. Then I closed my eyes, seeing the darkness and hearing the rain.

But I did not look. I did not listen. I did not think. I did not feel.

I could not feel. I could not feel anything anymore. I was too wet. I was too cold.

Too numb.

I was so completely numb.

In tiny slivers, there were moments, moments where I felt it, moments where I missed her. Missed her voice. Missed her smile. Missed her warmth. Missed her compassion. Missed her face.

Missed her everything.

But, that feeling always slipped away.

And, despite the rain, I felt dry. I guess I used up all my tears. So there was no need to cry. I could do something else.

And I started to think. All I cared about was her. If she was gone, then what would I do? I thought that maybe she was all I had to live for.

And I started to really listen. I heard the rain. Only the rain. Nothing else. No people, no signs of life outside. So no one cared that I was freezing here. Maybe no one knew. But they were not looking for me. Which meant they did not know I was gone, or just did not care.

And I started to look. And I noticed that the darkness I was seeing was more than just a black abyss. It was a nothingness.

Imagine that nothing existed. Imagine a place where there was nothing, as if we were all dead, but in reality, we were never really alive to begin with. it is hard to imagine just nothing. But that is what it was.

Nothing.

It felt as if the world had stopped. When I did not think, did not look, did not feel, did not listen, I was in a state of nothingness. But then, it felt more like a dream. The world had stopped, and I was stuck in a bizarre dream.

It was totally silent in this dazed, dream-like state. As for touch, either I did not have any nerves left, or there was nothing left to feel. Either way, I did not know that it was still raining until I opened my eyes and felt the stinging drops of water falling into them.

I know I got up somehow, because I walked to my back door and opened it up. I was not sure how I was moving, but my feet led me through the sunroom to my kitchen, where I stood, reminiscing. I was afraid that if I went outside, I would be numb again.

My body felt so numb then. I could not figure out what was going on, but eventually I pieced it together. There was a kitchen knife in my hand, and I was still wondering whether I would be able to feel or not.