THIS STORY HAS BEEN ADOPTED AND MOVED. After a short time to allow for transition, I will be deleting this page. This story will be rewritten and continued under a new author named "Kyndred". Thank you for your support, everyone! I hope that you will read her version and continuation of this story and will support her as you have supported me :)
Thank you!
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I cooperated to the best of my ability. No matter how frightening my hallucinations were during therapy, I did not scream. No matter how painful my existence was in my bare room with padded walls, I did not complain. In fact, after nearly six months of "good behavior" - as the doctors put it - I was given a reprieve. I passed the tests the physicians threw at me with flying colors. My mother came to pick me up, tears in her eyes, relief in her smile. I almost pitied her - almost. The drive home had been as uneventful as the elven months that followed my release. I was not allowed to attend school or wander outside without an escort. A live-in nurse was assigned to keep a sharp eye on me. Not sharp enough as it turned out. I learned over that time that I was quite the cunning actress. Pretending to be sane was not as difficult for me as I had imagined. The horrid woman began to trust me to bathe alone - to even shave alone. As soon as I was certain that she could give me at least one hour to myself, I carried out the wicked plan I had been brewing up since my last attempt to end my life. Cutting myself the second time was much easier than the first. That time, I had been unsure of myself. Not so now. Where I had once stabbed through my skin horizontally, I now cut in a deep vertical pattern. Because I needed to die fast, I cut hard and long. Afterwards, I was fascinated to watch the red blur in the water expand until it stained the entire tub a crimson ruby.
Now all that was left was to wait.
Dying seemed like an eternity. I wondered if I should be focussing on something - a memory or image of some sort that I wanted to see as I drew my last breath. At first, nothing really came to mind. Not my parents who I hadn't seen for nearly a year while I was locked away. Not my little brother who had been sent to boarding school when he tried to defend me. Not Yukari, who had disowned me as a friend. Even my deceased grandmother who had fought for my freedom did not come to mind. The world had hated me and beaten me down. Why should I be thinking of it as I was saying goodbye to everything? Then - out of the hidden caverns of my hated recollections - his face appeared before me. The image was as clear as daylight and as unexplained as man's sixth sense. Those rose-red eyes made me drunk with the wine they so resembled. My breath left my lungs with a deep whoosh. That face was no longer as boyish as I remembered. Lines of hardship and responsibility had made the boy into a man. His name escaped my lips as the barest of whispers -
"Van..."
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