Cye: Hello, nice to meet you or hi again, from "I wanna protect you". I am Cye and my mind is over-filled with FF ideas, so I decided to write and share them to people who might give it a try and appreciate reading my creations. Thanks for coming to read my FF, and I hope this series will entertain you as much as any other great FF writers out there, although there are still lots for me to improve on. Like I've mentioned a few times on other FFs, I really tend to write my chapters on the night (or rather, next morning at 2pm~ish) so I do proof-read but there's going to be a lot of grammatical mistakes in there. If you would kindly ignore them and let it slide please, and I'll fix them up when I have time to come back to them. Thanks ^^;;

Eyes bleed Tears

~Prologue~

…3, 4, 5…

This staircase has 42 steps.

I've counted them more than enough now, but once again, I count them as I climb up, my clenching grip on the rail tightens as if holding for dear life.
Not that death is my worst enemy.

…9, 10, 11…

Death is not unwelcoming, as it comes to knock on everyone's door one day, and it's a natural, unavoidable part of a sequence in life.

But then why am I shaking?

…15, 16, 17…

Almost half way up the stairs, there's a turning point. And I'm nearly there.

…19, 20, 21…

Ah, here it is.

I move my legs in a different direction till my bare feet touches the cold hospital stairs, the other half that leads me to the outside, the rooftop of the 14-storey high hospital.

But before I get to take another step forward, I'm hit by something that collides into me with so much force.

Sharp pain sears through my head as I hit the ground, and my arms shoot up to the bump on my head as I open my mouth wide to let out a mute cry.

I hear a grunt of the other, and then feel the person pulling oneself off me.

"Tch! Watch where you're going," I feel the amplitude of the person growling at me vibrate strongly against my ears. Not loud, but strong with irritation in his voice.

Before I get to apologize, he rushes past and strolls away with another click of his tongue.
I let out a small sigh and pick myself up off the floor and rubbing my backside to ease the pain.

'...was it my fault?' I ask myself.

I shake away the question and allow my legs to lead me once again, up the second half of the stairway.
Surprisingly enough, the pain inflicted upon my head that I had moments ago has totally disappeared, and my hands aren't shaking on the hand rail anymore.

What had made this difference?
What is different to the me now, and the me a few minutes ago?

Without getting an answer, I just force my legs to walk upwards, taking closer and closer to my goal.

…33, 34, 35…

I'm almost there. Just a few more steps further.

…39, 40, 41… and the last step, 42.

I feel a shiver run up my spine, like always.

42*

…A bad luck number*.

…A death sign*.

I shake my head to and fro.

Never mind that. Open the door, and-

The cool, early autumn wind greets the boy's face, touching ever so lightly on his marked cheeks and ruffling his soft blond hair playfully, easing his slightly tensed heart and body.

The boy greets it back in silence, with eyes so bright that it looks like a pair of shards shared from a bit of the clear sky stretched out high and wide across the whole village.

Note:
Japanese superstition.
*42= Can be read as 'yon-jyu-ni'(forty-two) or 'shi' 'nin' (dead people)
There is no such thing as room number 42 anywhere in Japan. And many don't have the 4th floor, since 'shi' means death, which is also another pronunciation of the number four.