Chapter One
The heels of my shoes click in rhythm as I run. A jog; that's the proper term. An icy breath from the wind nips at my nose, and all I can think of is how cold the weather is.
Having stupidly forgotten my jacket at school, I've been hurrying for about ten minutes wearing a thin, flimsy shirt. I might as well be naked. The cloudy, moonlit sky has me shivering to the bone. Drips of early-afternoon rainwater plop down from gutters into little puddles below. I try forcing myself to picture images of warmth, such as a crackling fire or toasty sand squishing between my toes. It all sounds wonderful, but who am I kidding? It's mid-October.
Riku consistently reminds me to be home on time. Though, I'm not exactly sure what "on time" is, since I have not once remembered it. I'm as forgetful as they come.
8:00, or 8:30? Or perhaps it's 8:15.
I realize he's probably told me on thousands of occasions, but it appears the only thing that ever sticks in my mind is, "street lights."
Does that mean I should be home when they turn on? I'll assume so.
Let's just hope I'm not late already.
"Ah!" I screech as my foot catches on something below, and almost instantly, I meet the concrete. The dull, filthy, unforgiving ground embraces me. "Well, great," I croak. Little grains of dirt stick to my hands as I support myself up and look back to see what I had tripped on.
Really? A rabbit plush toy? I'm becoming increasingly clumsier by the minute. Although, it did rain earlier, so I suppose I'm correct in blaming the slippery sidewalk. I pick up the toy, glaring at its grossly foolish smile covered in smudges of grease. God, why are these things so popular? Throwing it into a nearby alley, I hear a squeak of retaliation as it hits the asphalt.
This is when I notice my blouse's ripped left sleeve. I'm in for it tonight. I'll have to ask Jonan to fix it for me; he's the only one I trust with sewing. Upon realizing the tear in my shirt, I identify a slight stinging pain, and… red.
Red…
It has become so quiet, you'd be able to hear each scratchy step of a rat scurrying along the pavement. Now, there isn't a single hint of a breeze in the air. This is the kind of silence that makes you afraid; the kind of silence that makes you want to stay still.
They'll be able to tell right away; they can smell it already.
Instead of running, like a terrified kitten escaping from bulldogs, I walk. Just like I usually do. Though, truthfully, it feels like my heart is about to pound out of my chest, right here. I almost expect it to. I see our house at the end of the street. It's the only one with the porch light on; that means Riku is waiting for me. He always stays up until I come home, and always leaves the light on.
The chilling atmosphere is almost freezing. Snow could drift down onto my hair and I wouldn't be surprised in the least bit. I sense heaviness all around me. A sudden cooled gasp slithers down my neck, raising my hairs and forming goosebumps. My arm stings as I walk; the cold air seeps into the wound and begins to drain my energy. I know the other beings are around. Beings? You mean humans. No…
They're following me, but I can't hear them. They seem to not even touch the ground, I have noticed. Quick and nearly invisible. But I know they see me, watching me like a hawk targets an injured mouse.
I'm getting closer and closer to the house, and my pace quickens as I break into a light sprint. If I could just reach that door knob…
My veins pulse, and I hear the beat throbbing in my ears. Hurry!
Just a few more steps.
While crossing the street, I don't look to see if cars are coming. I'm incredibly glad the road has barely any traffic after dark.
There! It's the door. Its mahogany shimmer glows underneath the porch light. Just a few more steps. Hurry, hurry! The tempo in my chest echoes into my nerve endings, out through the tips of my fingers. Just a few more steps! Get up the stairs!
There it is. My hand has never been so happy to wrap its fingers around a door knob. When I try to push it inwards, the wood knocks into my shoulder. Click, click. Locked? I search through my pockets and school bag, but fail to find my key. Oh, not now, I can't be locked out now!
In panic, I viciously rattle the little, round ball. I stop, wondering about the things that are following me. Immediately turning around, I see…
No one. The street is as dry as my cold, chapped lips. The beating in my chest subsides, and I welcome a lingering sense of loneliness with open arms.
I begin to breathe normally again when someone grabs me by the wrist. I'm pulled inside, and the door shuts. Warm air rushes to surround my cold body like a huge blanket.
"Ugh! Hey!" I complain after being thrusted indoors like a sack of potatoes.
Riku's face looks like it always does: grumpy, with an extra helping of grumpy. "What are you doing?" he asks, embellishing a sigh. "You're late."
Through the window I see the street is now illuminated. "Hey, the lights haven't been on that long," I whine.
"Long enough for you to be late. I'm guessing you didn't get anything to eat?" I can imagine him saying that with arrogantly pasted hands on his hips, maybe wearing an apron and holding an old feather duster.
"You did see me at lunch earlier, remember? And, well…no. I haven't eaten yet. Psychology always goes late. You know that."
He looks at me for a moment, obviously exhausted. Then he sluggishly rubs his forehead, saying, "I'll heat up some dinner." Riku doesn't like to argue. At least, not for very long.
I smile, victoriously. Though he may come off harsh at times, he's just about as threatening as a week-old puppy.
Before even taking two steps, Riku stops. This is so that he could kink his head around to glare at my upper limb.
I almost forgot about the cut in my blouse, yet he detects it right away.
"How'd that happen?" he asks.
"I tripped on… something," I respond, saving myself embarrassment by lack of mentioning the plush toy. "The road is all wet; it's pretty easy to fall."
He remains silent, which suggests no concern; though I know he's bothered.
"It's fine, it barely hurts. I'll go get a Band-Aid."
As I head to the bathroom, he accompanies me without a word and begins tending to my arm.
"You need to be more careful," he tells me, bandaging my wound. "Those things are brutal. If they get a hold of you, you're gone."
"I know," I snap, slightly annoyed. "You've told me like a billion times."
"If that happens again, just call me and I'll come get you."
"It's okay… I was perfectly fine."
Quickly changing the subject, he says, "You ripped your shirt." Very smooth.
"Think Jonan can fix it this weekend?"
Riku looks at the blood stains. "I'm sure. He'll need to bleach it first, so you're lucky it's already white."
"Fabulous. Hand me that sweater?" I point through the door to the pink piece of clothing draped over our washing machine. While his back was turned, I quickly unbutton the torn blouse. Noticing I am undressing, Riku looks away as he hands me the sweater.
After I pull on the warm, fuzzy top, I turn around and say, "You can look now."
His head to the side, he scrunches his face, as if disgusted. "Who says I want to?"
With a scowling gesture, I waltz myself into the kitchen in search of food. I hear Riku's light chuckle as I pass by him, though I ignore it.
"I'm joking, little girl. You have a pretty face," he utters to me in a childish voice, still grinning, as my hands ruffle through our refrigerator's contents. "Your dinner's by the microwave, genius."
Recalling the memory of being locked outside, I look up at him suspiciously and ask, "Why did you lock the door?"
He hushes himself for a few seconds. Then, slowly but surely, his pointer finger moves up to his nose, pushing it upwards. "Because I was afraid you'd come in."
Hmph. This time, Riku bursts into laughter, while I wander off with heavy footsteps. "I'm sorry, I – I'm sorry. I just couldn't help it."
I listen to him cackle like a jubilant five year-old, and I am puzzled at how he can so quickly change his moods. The more I watch him acting truly and absolutely silly, the more I begin to join in. Even though I know Riku better than anyone else, he still manages to surprise me from time to time.
Chapter Two
Hot water trickles down my body like waterfall near a spring. My long, cascading hair smoothly decorates itself over my collar bone. The splashing sounds echoing off of the shower walls have me nodding off occasionally, and I can't help but wish that I was already in bed.
Bathing in mornings is relatively typical for most people, but to me, it doesn't make much sense. I prefer to fall asleep feeling clean, rather than lying uncomfortably with oily skin. Riku is one of those people. It's fairly convenient; each of us have our own time slot, and there's no fighting over "who gets it when" or any of that rubbish.
His black bottle of Green River 2-in-1 sits on the shower's shelf next to a bar of soap. It's always been the exact same brand, the same cologne-based aroma, everything. On the other hand, my shampoo and conditioner lay on the floor, and are constantly changing.
A personal hot tub would be incredible; that is, of course, if money and space were of no issue. No strange people getting in and out, water jets massaging my tightened muscles, and access is unlimited. However, those thousands of dollars can be used for more important investments, and our puny backyard is only large enough for two or three, maybe four, lawn chairs to sit in.
I finished washing my hair a couple minutes ago, but the warm liquid still pours over my body. The steam that is billowing out of the shower fogs up the mirror, and my mind is flooded with school work.
Do I have an algebra test coming up? I can't remember. Next Wednesday? No, that's when my English paper is due.
Exhaling, I watch water droplets spool over the bandage enveloping my arm, and wonder why the wound needs more dressing than a simple Band-Aid. Leave it to Riku to be an over-exaggerator. Though, because of his innate ability to protect, the cut will probably heal sooner than usual.
At the thought of this, my mind recollects the news story from last spring about a young boy who became the victim of a flesh eating disease. I remember the disturbing image shown on the screen of his mutilated face. The split from his lip cracked open, all the way to his eyelid. He eventually died from it after seven months of treatment, at 12 years old. It all started with a small cut…
My eyes widen, staring at my upper arm. I begin to imagine it as a festered mess, spreading its claws up to my shoulder, and then the neck-…
I shake off the anxiety swallowing me. Riku has never left one bit of dirt on any cut or scrape I've had in my entire life. Plus, that's a rare disease.
A yawn demands that I remove myself from the shower. Hey, idiot, you're wasting water. I moan and complain, yet finally I surrender to my own conscience.
After drying the wetness off, and dressing in my pajamas, I waddle up the stairs in my bright blue slippers. The slippers were given to me by an elderly neighbor a few months back, and I have a feeling the woman misunderstood my age – by 10 years. The worst things about them are the absolutely ridiculous eyeballs staring up at me, supplemented by a drunken grin below. It's something you might find in Pee Wee's Playhouse. Though hideous, they're comfortable – of course, I'd be mortified if anyone spotted me wearing them outside the house.
My zombie-like eyes notice a streak of light peeking out from under Riku's door. Why is he still awake? I thought he went to bed ages ago. I glance at the clock through my open bedroom, reading: 10:23. Listening for any noise within the room, I stand perfectly still for a few moments. Yet, the longer I stood, the quieter it became. Maybe he just fell asleep with the light on. It wouldn't be the first time.
The boniness of my knuckles resounds through the wooden door as I knock, and I gently open it and step into the room. Riku is lying on his bed, hands beneath his neck. After hearing my entrance, he stands up and looks at me - half puzzled, half cranky.
"What are you doing up? Do you know what time it is?" The emerald green in his eyes appear duller than usual, and the dark bags that accompany prove exhaustion. He works way too hard.
"I could ask you the same thing, you're not asleep yet either," I rebut.
"Well, I'm older than you. I need less sleep."
"Not if you have to go to work at 7 AM-…" Gazing around the room, I see that one of his windows is wide open. "Aren't you cold?"
"I was just feeling a little warm earlier."
"Do you have a fever?" I ask as I shut out the freezing air. Without an answer from Riku, I reach up under his shiny, maroon locks to feel his forehead. "Hm, you feel alright. Maybe it's just stress from the day."
He just looks at me, withering hidden by toughness.
My face squeezes into a sour expression as I hook onto an unpleasant scent. "It smells weird in here. Are you doing drugs or something?" The odor didn't hit me right away, but the longer I stand in the room, the stronger it becomes. A bitter, metallic flavor wafts through my nostrils. This is quite odd for Riku; he's a neat-freak, especially in regards to his own home.
"That's probably just the oil on my work shirt." He points to a nearby chair on which a dirty polo hangs. The light blue fabric is stitched with red, cursive lettering, reading: Miyagi's Modern Weaponry. Underneath, our family name is written: Ichiyou.
"The factory doesn't exactly smell like fresh flowers." I can only trust it doesn't; I've never been inside any industrial building before. Riku has only ever told me how dangerous they are.
"Yeah." I pause, gazing at him with a tint of suspicion. He's staring at the floor, cheeks flustered. Very odd. Riku never blushes. It seems absurd of me to think he's lying, and I try to rid the feeling. "Oh, I forgot to ask, how was work today?"
He shrugs. "Just the same ol' stuff."
"Would you like me to get up early tomorrow and make you lunch?"
His frustrated face relaxes, and the slightest smile appears across his lips. "No, thanks."
"Are you sure?" I pester.
"Go to bed, Tama," he responds, rolling his eyes as he grins brighter. Fatigued and probably annoyed, Riku directs me to the hallway.
"Hey!..."
"Goodnight," he says as he shuts the door.
Almost instantly, the line of light disappears at my feet. A few shuffling noises resonate, followed by silence. I am left standing in the middle of practically complete darkness, with dripping wet hair, and in these dreadful bright blue slippers.
Chapter Three
3 days later
The choking sounds of a car awaken me from my sleep. It's either that, or intense sunlight shining through the hole in my blinds. What a wonderful way to wake up on a Monday morning. I like the sun, but not when I'm trying to rest. Once I take a step outside, it'll instantaneously hide behind a gray curtain of clouds. Thank you, Mother Nature.
Terrified of what my clock reads, I decide to roll myself out from under the covers and gather the energy to stand. Ah, too fast, I think while splotches of circles spin me around.
Eventually, I make my way to the bathroom, only to stare at the tangled, dirt-colored mop glued to my head. One side of my yellow tank top droops down, while the other is tucked into my little black pair of shorts. Gripping my hairbrush, I carefully flatten out the knots, occasionally whimpering, "Ow, ow, ow…" Finally, the strands of hair naturally fall wavy around my shoulders. I gape at myself for a moment, a partially revolted look crossing my face. But, I lazily shrug it off. Could be worse. I could be a blonde. My brother has told me since I was young that I'm lucky to have such soft, silky hair. And, of course, I have always disagreed.
Still dizzy, I lumber my heavy legs downstairs, straight into the kitchen, as my stomach moans for nourishment. Riku left recently; I know this from the faint gasping of the coffee maker, and a plate of hot bacon with eggs lay on the counter. Oh boy, how many calories are in this? He's just trying to fatten me up; he'll make a feast of me, I ponder questionably. But, I would feel bad if I leave it fully untouched. Anyways, gym class is tomorrow. I'll work it off then.
I halt my thoughts. How silly of me. I'm actually worrying about my weight? Pft, 131 lbs at 5'6" is almost perfect. If Riku can have a little chub then so can I. Smirking evilly, I take a crispy bite of a piece of bacon and prance over to the refrigerator.
I swirl the white of my favorite creamer into the dark liquid in my cup, and soon it becomes a tan-brown. Putting back the bottle of pure goodness into the fridge, I notice that this is one of 4 containers of Crème Light… that have not yet been used up. Eek, how long have those been there? To my surprise, they're actually just a few weeks old. It's a good thing they last quite a while; I tend to just buy another bottle if I forget there's one that already exists in the fridge. I'm the only one who uses coffee creamer here, since Riku only drinks it black. I wonder if Harumi or Chiyo would take some…
As soon as I sit down to eat breakfast, the front door swings open and shakes the entire house. The vibration nearly knocks over my plate and almost causes my body to go into psychogenic shock. Stunned, I turn around to find Jonan scrambling towards me, shouting.
"Tama! Tama!"
"I'm right here! Goodness sakes." He has a white piece of clothing in his hands. My blouse!
After fumbling around like a chicken with its head cut off, he exclaims, "Oh, good! I was afraid you had left already." Jonan pauses to catch his breath, then waves the shirt in my face and continues, "Here, I finished it this morning." He does realize this isn't my only shirt, right?
"Thank you. It looks great," I say, taking it.
"Hey, anytime!" A goofy smile crosses his face while long, orange-tinted curls shield his eyes.
Still trying to process all the action that had just happened, I ask, "Would you like something to eat-…?"
Jonan was now half way to the door by the time he answered me. "Sorry, gotta go!" And just as quickly as his entrance, he sprints out of the house and down the street, leaving the door completely open. Not having a single idea of why he's so rushed, I sit silently for a minute.
Shockingly enough, nothing in the kitchen is broken; it's as if he had never even been here. I stare at my blouse, at the spot where it had ripped. It's so perfect. The blood drops have totally disappeared, and the stitching is impeccable. Who would have thought that a silly character like Jonan could be the same person who sews flawlessly?
I jump up from the stool on which I had sat, coffee cup in hand, and walk over to the exposed space. There he is, hurrying down the road, the sunlight bouncing off of his carrot-top hair. A bicyclist swerves around Jonan's flailing limbs as he dashes by, and ultimately crashes into a nearby beauty bush. Without stopping, Jonan quickly apologizes and keeps running.
What a doofus. Taking a steaming sip of coffee, I smile and roll my eyes. I doubt I, or anyone for that matter, will ever understand what goes on in that boy's head. And to think, he's Riku's best friend. Talk about opposites.
Jonan has been around for about 3 years now. No one knows exactly where he came from, who is family is or anything. He just showed up one day, sleeping in the back of his little sewing shop. Apparently Riku used to hate him. Whenever I ask why, he always says, "I mistook his kind gestures as offensive challenges, but then I realized that he's just really weird." That makes sense. He does and says things that most people find very strange or even aggressive, when, in reality, his actions are completely sincere. I like to think of him as a grown man with a child's heart… and possibly mind.
Last year, I had gotten absolutely frantic about a gigantic spider on the floor in the living room. I flew across the house and hid behind the furnace. The next Christmas, Jonan got me a tarantula. He had believed that I was excited, but truthfully, I was terrified. In horror, I dropped the container holding the large arachnid and, of course, it spilled out onto my foot. I don't recall leaving my room for a few hours after that. He came by the house probably 2-3 times every day for a month and apologized from the bottom of his heart. Even now he will still mention it from time to time.
If it had been anyone else who had given me the tarantula, I would've beaten them to a pulp in an instant. But, knowing Jonan, I recognize that he genuinely meant no harm.
A giggle bubbles up inside me as I am reminded of that memory.
I hate spiders.
"… meanwhile, the conquest of Indochina started in the 1850's by France, and was in completion by 1893…"
Hastily carving light wisps of white into the chalkboard, Mr. Goya rarely looks at his students while he rambles. His robotic, monotone voice only makes this subject that much more uninteresting. It's like the man never takes a breath between sentences; as though he's repeated the exact same lecture four billion times, and is even tired of it himself. I wonder - if he was to be naked, would one find metal parts and electric wires underneath his clothing?
This is so boring, is the only thing I can think of. Staring out the window next to me, I notice how beautifully warm the weather is today… and how I'm not outside enjoying it. Two small children skip by on the pavement with their mother, wearing slim capris and t-shirts. I disgustingly look down at the red stockings covering my calves, and those awful, brown, clunking shoes. Brilliant.
My stomach roars at me, scolding me for not eating a larger lunch. I decided to skip out on going home today, and settled for vending machine popcorn chips. As I rest my cheekbone into the palm of my hand, I slowly begin to doze off to a place far away from history class. Mr. Goya's words feebly convert to blah's and soon disappear altogether.
I feel saliva drool from my bottom lip as the heads of my peers transform to decadent sweets, and the light bulbs melt into butter cream. I could really go for a snack right about now. Or, more specifically, a gourmet dessert straight from Co-Cho's Kitchen 2 blocks east. I can imagine it: A perfectly crafted Swiss white chocolate truffle. As I bite into its creamy, savory outer shell, my taste buds are ecstatic to meet the smooth, coconut filling. The cooling sensation is unimaginable as I allow it to liquefy in my mouth. That's only the beginning; only the first bite! I devour the rest of it quickly, as I'm desperate for the flavor to dissolve on my tongue. The chocolatier behind the counter rapidly creates two more chocolates, and then ten more, and then even more! I watch as boxes of goodies pile up by the hundreds beside me. All of them are different in color and taste, and each has a new name. I almost feel devious for being so privileged. Cashew Turtle, Hazelnut Gianduja, Key Lime Ganache, Milk Chocolate Caramel…- they're all mine!
A sudden smack on the rear of my head returns me to reality. The reality that I am trapped in a classroom corroded with a bland ether…and more importantly, without anything to eat. Turning around in my chair, I see that Harumi is the one who delivered the blow to my cranium. I rub the spot where I had been hit and whisper, "That hurt."
Sympathetic, she replies, "Sorry."
"Do I hear someone talking?" Mr. Goya is still facing the chalkboard, yet pauses his scribbling to restore the quiet that has been interrupted. Indubitably, every person in the room glares at me. What? It's not like you're interested in history anyways. After no answer is given, he continues his exceedingly slow and tedious lecture.
I let out a dense sigh, wishing I were back in my dream-filled world. Sensing a tap on my shoulder, I only half-twist my neck to the side this time. A note is distributed in front of my eyes by Harumi's hand; I can tell it's her by those bright green, sparkling nails. I take the piece of paper, and read: "Looks like someone has a little fanatic."
Ehh?! Confused, I quickly scan the room for anything unusual. All of my peers' heads seem to be turned forward, and Mr. Goya is carrying out his speech. I don't see what… OH, NO.
To my right, one row down, behind the frizzed afro of our class president, I perceive four fingers twinkling towards me, coupled with a pair of batting, blue-gray eyes. Katashi Moriyama. This blonde-haired, arrogant, overindulged boy has gone after virtually every young woman in our class (and even some in upper classes). Since his father, Aoi Moriyama, owns one of the biggest clothing companies in the area, Katashi's bribes consist of money, money, and more money. Most of the girls turn him down, but once and a while a few shy, naïve ones will fall for his false charm. Though, they always end up kicking him to the curb because of his self-serving character. Usually, he will pick himself up and move on. But, for some reason, he's chosen to pester me for two weeks now. Perhaps, the massive amount of rejection is getting to him? I also may be last, or almost last on the list. Swallowing hard, I feel heat build up from within me and spread up to the flesh in my cheeks. I hate this feeling. It's exactly as though the entire world is pointing and laughing at me in unison.
On the other side of the classroom, Chiyo's snickering catches my attention. Returning her laughs with a dirty look, I poke my tongue out, and then sink into my seat. My stomach growls once again, but more viciously than the previous. That's right, sic 'em boy! I wish that it were a beast; then I could unleash it unto my problems, and it'd consume them, gnawing on the flesh of my enemies…
Isn't that the kind of thinking that puts people in mental clinics?
Chapter Four
"That's when I found out that cats don't like belly rubs as much as dogs do," Harumi states as she shows off the tiny scratches on her hands.
While I gulp down the remnants of my roast beef sandwich, she finishes the story of her new kitten, Goro (what a weird name). Before Harumi has even taken one bite of her salad, my entire meal has vanished; whereas Chiyo quietly nibbles at the bread and chips on her plate.
"Don't tell me you brush his teeth like you do with Kimi…" Chiyo says, amused. Her dyed, pink and blue bangs diagonally shade one of her eyes, while the rest of her hair is covered by a knit beanie. I always joke to her about that, to the point where her nickname has become "Cyclops".
"Nah, his teeth are too little. There's no way he'd let me, anyways." What a relief. Her family is on the wealthy side, and they've been known to treat their pets like children; mostly because they can. For as long as I've known Harumi, she's had twelve cats, nine dogs, four parrots, and two geckos. Yes, I am somewhat ashamed at myself for knowing that…
I look out of the café's window and observe reds and oranges of the sun squeezing in between two buildings across the street. A telephone wire cuts the yellow sphere in half as it descends below the horizon, and slowly, the light is sheltered from vision. On the outside windowsill, a ladybug squirms desperately on its back; its small, hair-like legs kicking rapidly, spinning itself around in circles. What a poor little creature. I wonder what it's like to be an insect.
It feels like the day has died out too quickly; like it was only an hour ago that I strolled along the sidewalk to school, past all the bustling shopkeepers and their clients. I wish I could have soaked in more of the gorgeous weather, instead of sulking in crowded classrooms.
"Guess you were pretty hungry, huh?" Chiyo notices I have finished eating.
"I was too full at lunch to eat much, so I starved through History and English," I answer.
"That's why you should sneak food into class!"
"Yeah, I always forget though..."
The girls smile without hesitation. I'm not sure why, but I am forgetful at times. It's mainly the reason for why I run into problems all the time. I can never remember important things, such as, when to come home, or bringing my key or jacket with me. But, stupidly enough, I recall useless facts; like how many animals Harumi has owned…
"Hey, Tama," Chiyo says as dimples crease above her smirk, "Is Katashi taking you to the dance?"
What?! The water I had been sipping drooled out of my mouth while I coughed. "No!" I exclaimed, nearly regurgitating my roast beef sandwich, just from the thought of Little Pompous Boy getting anywhere near me.
"Aww, why not? He's so sweet. You'll make adorable babies!" Harumi chimes in, and they both cackle in hilarity as I clean up the mess I made.
A sickened glare manifests onto my face. "Hardy har har. I'm not even planning on going."
Finally calming down, Chiyo demands, "You're coming with us, though. You have to. Don't you wanna make fun of the girls who cry when they don't get the award for 'Best Dressed'?" She accentuated her words with hyperbolic enthusiasm.
"No promises." There is not much of an interest in my mind about dressing up and spending an evening in a room with people I don't like… since, really, I kind of already do that every day.
I sigh. That girl. Chiyo is still giving me her signature look, those crimson eyes sinking into the back of my mind. She's a sneaky little bugger; always enjoying my misery.
A waitress confidently strides over to our table to deliver the bill. All of us recognize her short, purple hair and beaming brown eyes. It's Nao: A girl we had befriended last year, before she graduated. Well, I suppose she's more of an acquaintance. I remember her picture in the newspaper, next to the story about her swimming record. She was the fastest female swimmer in our school…in the district! This year we've gained five new members on our swimming team. Coincidence?
She greets us, and Harumi asks, "Where are you going to school?"
Nao exhales, as though a huge relief has been taken off of her shoulders. "The thought of school is too stressful for me right now. So, I'm just working off my future college debt now!"
After we finish our conversation, Nao hands us the charge. "Here you are, ladies. Hope you enjoyed your meal-…" She suddenly pauses, and stares at me with a concerned expression; though, not in my eyes; farther down. The exuberant smile painted above her chin fades, softly.
Caught off guard by such a sudden change in mood, I blush and ask, "What is it?"
"Who did that to you?" She responds, carefully, and the light brown caressing her eyes sparkle with worry.
The scrape on my arm has now mostly healed, leaving a dainty scar behind. "Uh… wha-…huh?" I'm too confused for words, at first. Then, gathering my thoughts, I point to it and say, "What, you mean this?"
She is silent, and nods slightly.
Why does she assume someone hurt me? Puzzled beyond belief, I take a moment to try to apprehend, as I gaze at her.
Then, it hits me. The muscles contracting in my perplexed appearance ease as I realize she is thinking about my brother; my grouchy-natured, intimidating brother. Only having seen him once or twice, perhaps she simply thinks of him as an abusive person; not unlike everyone else who does not know him.
I have been given pitiful looks from strangers when out with Riku. At one point, I was handed a domestic violence pamphlet from a woman on the street – right in front of him. He listened as she explained to me that I don't have to put up with mistreatment any longer. I've never seen him so disheartened. Though I don't express anger towards these people, I truly desire for them to not accept such things as truth. If only they got to know him, really, they might understand…
Riku has never laid a cruel hand on me.
"No one did this to me," I clarify calmly. "I tripped on the sidewalk while walking home Friday. It was my own fault."
The shine that had trembled in the deep roots of Nao's pupils now dwindles. A kind, relaxed glow forms through her lips as she grins.
After we each present her our share of the bill, she thanks us, returns to the counter, and tends to another customer.
I can tell my friends are watching me with empathy. They're waiting for me to crack wide open, waiting to see a tear tumble down my cheek, waiting to catch all of the pieces I fall to. But, I don't cry in front of people. At least, I don't like to. It's a waste of time.
Instead of glancing at them, my attention is drawn to the ladybug I viewed before, outside. It now lay lifeless. Those miniscule legs that had once writhed so frantically now are immobile. All the same, positioned on its back, the body is frozen in the midst of its struggle; it has not accomplished its goal.
My body is chilled. I am lying underneath a blanket, but still, I am cold. It is so soft and comfortable, why do I not feel warm? The hair on my head seems wet, but when I touch it, it is dry.
I look, and I see that I am in a room. Though it is small, it's also big. A chair is located next to me. Will it keep me warm? Maybe. I get up from under the blanket, and sit on it, my knees tucked up against my chest.
This feels much worse; now my feet are like frost, though I am wearing socks. Whose socks are these? I don't remember them…
Wait, I don't remember anything. What are socks?
"Hey, you'll freeze if you stay out of bed," a voice \says. At the door of the room stands a thing; it kind of looks like me. Oh, it's a person. A boy.
How do I know that? What is a boy?
He walks over to me, because I am just staring at him. Even though he looks young, he gets bigger as he comes closer, and it's scary. I jump down from the chair and hide behind it, in a corner, and shiver from the coldness. What will he do? He is so much larger than me.
The boy stops when he sees that I am afraid, and kneels down. "It's alright, I won't hurt you." He looks at me, and I can see his face. His eyes are so nice… why are they nice? The color is different from black and white. What is color?
"My name is Riku," he tells me. A name? He uses his mouth to make those noises, and I can understand them. Maybe I can do that too.
Moving my lips and tongue, I say out loud, "Ri-…ku?" Is that my voice? That's what I sound like? How do I know how to talk? I say it again, "Riku?"
He nods and confirms it with a smile. "Yes. And you are Tama. That's your name." My name? How does he know it?
I am confused, and the room is cold. I'm in a place, but I don't know where. I'm in a body, but I don't know whose it is. "W-where am I? Why am I here?"
The boy's face looks so kind; he seems less scary the more I watch him. I stick my head up above the chair so I can see him better. "I'm going to take care of you now. Would that be okay?" He reaches his hand out to me.
Waiting for a moment, thinking, I copy him. My fingers graze his lightly, for a moment. It feels strange, so I pull away from him. But he stays the same, he has not moved at all. He is not afraid of me, why should I be afraid of him?
I crawl out from behind the chair and sit facing him. He does not touch me; he just looks at me with gentle eyes. All of a sudden, I feel sad. I don't know who I am, and I'm scared; yet the person in front of me is so caring. My eye feels like it is full, and a bit of wetness comes out of it. What is this? I'm leaking?
The boy named Riku stretches his hand towards me and wipes away the water on my face. His skin is so smooth; it's like the blanket I was laying under before. "Don't cry, please. You're going to be fine."
He feels so warm, compared to me. I'm shocked at how different we are. I'm desperate for that feeling. Before he returns his hand from my face, I hold onto it, and he seems surprised. But then, he smiles and brushes his thumb against my cheek.
My face soon becomes hot from his touch; it's so much better than cold! Will he keep me warm? Maybe. So I hop into his arms, and my legs scrunch up on his lap.
He isn't sure, at first, but quickly holds me tight as he notices how chilly I am. My arms hug his neck while our bodies cuddle close together. He is like fire, he feels that warm. What is fire? I'm like ice, and he's melting me. He's melting my fear away. There is no space in between us; we are so tight, it's like we're one person.
"You can call me Brother, if you want," he says quietly to me. Brother? I like it.
This feeling I have is amazing. What is it? I can't explain it; it's difficult. But I know I belong next to this boy, I have to. I'll be fine as long as I'm with him. I am no longer as cold as I was. I was searching for something, and now, I think I have found much more than warmth.
Chapter Five
Slowly bounding in the sky, fluffs of white, powdery clouds diminish into the air. Stars begin to glimmer in the east as the sun's last breath of yellow shine disappears beyond the western tree tops. Few people are still walking the streets, as most of them are at home enjoying dinner and their family's company. The beautiful day is now asleep. It is the time of night when the dark side of this town comes alive.
A once 68 degree temperature now drops rapidly while the wind chooses to pick up, tossing old newspapers and flower petals across the road. I am shaking, and I'm almost certain it's not from the weather. My fingernails clutch the bottoms of my pockets as I replay the café scene over in my head.
"Who did that to you?" Her quavering words still ring as clear as before.
What did she want me to say? Oh, yes, my extremely aggressive brother got angry at me for not making dinner on time, so he slashed me with a knife to teach me a lesson. Are you happy? Does that fulfill your assumptions? Would you like another story, just in case you are wondering about my stubbed toe, or the splinter in my pinky?
Stop it. No. Just, don't think about it.
I break my pace to shut my eyes and exhale deeply. My steps had been quite hasty, proving the anger and frustration built up inside of me. Why am I angry, anyways? She was just concerned for me, perhaps; she wasn't actually thinking of Riku. Maybe she was really assuming one of those beasts had gotten to me. My emotions are too sensitive, and they often come to the wrong conclusions… right?
On the other hand, maybe Nao is just like the others who believe that any man whom is less than joyful is an abuser. No, she was only worried. Stop being so cross. I wish I could, I just cannot shake this irritating mood. It's the same feeling that boils inside me every time a person does something that hurts. Why can't they understand how genuinely kind he is? Chiyo and Harumi see it, they always have. They have known all along how deeply he cares for me; all of those risks he would willingly take just to be sure I'm taken care of. That's Riku; he's not that difficult to comprehend.
Forget it. It's the past now. Relax.
I take even deeper breaths, attempting to realize that it's not the end of the world. After being distracted for some time, I open my eyes, and perceive a much darker sky than before. The rising wind is motivating me to get home as soon as possible. Okay, don't be late again.
Unexpectedly, my foot is caught in mid-step, frozen. A blood-curdling shriek reverberates on my eardrums, propelling an electric chill up my spine as it sounds across the brick walls. My muscles are stunned, they refuse to move. Goosebumps form on each part of my limbs and force the hairs to perk up. My body jumps as I gasp, and I can only crook the head on my shoulders towards the nightmarish wail. I see a black hole of an alley to my left as my toes curl with terror. What… the hell? That was probably the most terrifying scream I have ever heard, and I really wish I hadn't heard it.
Light ceases at its entrance; it declines the invitation from the open space. What lies beyond such an obscurity? What kind of horror would cause a person to cry like that?
I have an awful gut feeling; I just hope I'm wrong.
Should I… go?
The same shrill voice echoes again. I can make out the tones of a young woman. This time, I do not hesitate, and immediately rush into the thick night, without any understanding of what I'll see. As the bottom of my heel phases out of the light, I leave behind comfort and safety of the lit up street.
In front of me, there is nothing. I can barely see the old dumpsters that I almost collide with. The cracks in between the bricks of buildings are slightly illuminated; these little lines are all I can clearly see. Still running, the cold wind eats away at the bare skin on my knees and cheekbones, and soon, I slow myself to listen for direction.
It's quiet for a moment while I silence my footsteps. Then, another screech, much louder than the others. I'm closer. It is followed by a series of grunting and shambling sounds. A sickening knot forms in my abdomen, tightening the more I move. This just doesn't feel right at all.
I'm promptly scanning every corner that I pass by, and each has been a disappointment. Heightened adrenaline bolts into my veins as I see another, and… no, it's an empty alleyway. Where are they? Glancing back for a second, I notice the portal of light has completely vanished. I feel so far from home. What would a young woman be doing in the outlying parts of town, anyways? The shouting increases, escorted by a thundering bang that rattles my bones.
Someone is hurting her. No… dear God, please don't let me be right. The tick-click cadence that my shoes are creating matches the puffing breath I see flowing out in front of me. I hurry with extreme distress after checking the last vacant passageway. My hair is violently thrashing from side to side, and occasionally whips me in the face. I'll probably freeze to death before I even find them. The sensation in my feet is slowly glazing away.
I catch a foul scent as I keep going. It smells like a mixture of copper and oil. Could it be from a factory? But, it seems almost as if it's…
Please be wrong, please be wrong.
I gulp hard as I approach one more corner. Though my energy is depleting, I manage to push my body a little farther. My legs cease, and I take in quick breaths of the icy air, pressing the palms of my hands onto my bent knees.
"AHHHH!"
I instantly turn my attention left, and my pupils widen with dread. My worst fears have come to life.
Sweet…Jesus…
What I see before me, maybe 50 feet away, is a tall person… no, a tall creature. With his hunched up back turned to me, he wears a long coat over a business suit. He almost looks like a giant.
The girl I had heard screaming before now dangles in front of him, her limbs twitching. He's holding her up like a child would with a doll.Red lines trickle down her fingers and drip off onto the ground.
This isn't happening, this can't be happening. I must be hallucinating, or asleep. Oh please, let this be a dream.
I cover my mouth right away to muffle any noise I make. As I continue to stare at the blood pooling on the pavement, my peripheral vision catches the tall figure straighten up. Quickly, I hide myself behind a corner of the building next to me.
He saw me… I know he saw me.
The more my stomach knots up, the faster my heart pounds, and the quicker my breaths become. My mouth is still shielded as I try to calm down. I listen for any sounds coming from the alley, but I only hear the echoing whooshes of cars in the distance. Perhaps, he ran away?
To find out, my trembling neck stretches around the building, searching for the giant person. Instead, the flickering of a street light revealed no one, except for the young girl lying on the ground. Her blood runs through the bumpy concrete like tiny rivers. No part of her moves.
My first instinct is to hurry to her side. But I soon remembered that I may not be alone here. He could be hiding, waiting for me to step into the light. A trap? Possibly. Alternatively, I should call for help. Still facing the alley, I feel around in my schoolbag for my cellphone.
"Hi, baby," a deep, raspy voice says.
Every nerve in my body lights up like ten thousand bolts of electricity has shocked me. My heart leaps to my throat as I turn around to come face to face with a terrifying sight.
A pair of deathly, silver eyes looks down on me as I let out a shriek. In a panicked state, I drop my cellphone and clumsily whip out the dagger in my bag's pocket, slashing upwards.
But, he's gone.
"Over here," he chuckles.
The creature is now by the girl again, hovering like a shadow above everything else. A tiny bit of light exposes bright red blood that covers his smirking mouth, contrasting with the black and white scene.
His stance implies a challenge; he's just standing there, waiting for me.
Without thinking twice, I charge towards him, gripping my weapon. An angry hatred froths over the rest of my emotions, erasing any fear or concern for myself.
In the blink of an eye, he disappears. I cease moving. I should have expected that.
Abruptly, I am hit on the side of my forehead by what feels like a large paw. The claws dig slightly into my scalp, leaving four scratches. Surprised, I stagger down to the filthy concrete, but find my feet again.
As I gaze upon at the thing that attacked me, I notice he is standing with the same conviction as before, still smiling.
"Your blood smells wonderful," he croaks.
Glancing at the unconscious girl lying next to me, I reply, disgusted, "Haven't you had enough?"
My head starts to ache, swirling into a state of lightheadedness.
"She's too weak, doesn't eat enough." He takes a few steps closer to me. "You're very healthy though, and I like that."
Once again, I sprint directly to him, my fingers sinking into the handle of my dagger. And once again, the creature withdraws from sight. Immediately, I slice my arm to the right in a half circle. The blade wedges through something, and I hear a small groan. Got'cha.
I had cut his arm, badly. The tall figure holds his wound as gory stains cover his entire sleeve. No longer grinning, he glares at me, breathing out heavy air.
"You little bitch," he growls. I stand confidently before him, presenting my red knife.
His whole body begins to shudder, and petrifying fangs protrude out from his lips, creating a snarling sound. Those intense, bloodshot eyes stare deep into me. He looks like an animal, rather than a person.
They are animals.
I'm pretending to not be afraid. My heart is pounding, my ankles are trembling, and I am absolutely, undeniably terrified of this beast. Even so, I have to show him I will not allow him to do any more harm.
I expect him to attack me. This time, intending to cause serious damage. I won't hold back, and neither will he.
His left leg bounces as though he's waiting to dash into a race.
Anytime. He'll come at me anytime now. The pressure on my shoulders is heavy, and my throbbing head is driving me crazy.
Dim police sirens interrupt our gawking contest. We both hold our breath for a moment and our facial expressions change, but for different reasons.
Someone else must have heard all of the commotion.
The creature turns his head left and right, alarmed, and then quickly bolts out of the area, leaving a trail of blood behind.
I drop my weapon, and run over to the girl, whom is still lying on the dirty ground. A large, red pool surrounds her body as I sit her up. I gulp as I look upon her frighteningly white skin. Eyes closed, she coughs sickly, and bloody bubbles form in the corners of her mouth.
Desperate to see she's alive, I shake her gently, squeezing and jiggling her cheeks.
"Hey, come on," I whisper, "Come on, wake up."
A little moan vibrates off of her lips, and her paper thin eyelids flutter. Eventually, I can see her darkened, rose-colored irises peek out. The light is slowly diminishing from her petite body as she gazes deep into me with wide eyes.
I smile, showing her I'm friendly. "It's alright, he's gone now. You're going to get help."
Her neck, wounded horrendously, still oozes from the six holes in her skin. Four of them are on the right side, and two on the left. I cringe from the amount of blood. He devoured her like a piece of meat.
Then I realized, maybe I can keep her alive longer by applying pressure, and worriedly, I cover her throat with my hands.
She tenses up in a moment, and then relaxes, her eyes becoming softer. Delicately and slowly, she grins and reaches up, taking away my grasp. Her fingers are so light and feeble; I'm afraid they'll break apart like crumbling potato chips.
A mutual recognition passes through both of us.
I am holding her head in my hands, like one would with a newborn baby. Her failing organs color a light bruising on her face. She purses her lips, but she hasn't the energy to talk.
"It's okay," I say, "Don't try to speak. I understand."
At that moment, her eyelids slowly shut, and one, final, heavy breath passes through her chest. Just like that. Her muscles become dense as I keep her up with my arms. The frail, gentle expression that was so difficult for her to form now remains frozen in time on her ghostly pale skin.
What…? No… She's just unconscious. She'll wake up soon.
I feel around her neck still, keeping the blood from gushing out. There's a heartbeat somewhere here… Come on…
Nothing; no beat, no movement, no nothing. Her blood has begun to stop flowing out of the bite marks in her throat.
"Oh, God…" A flurry of overwhelming emotion washes over me as I come to grips with the undeniable truth lying right in front of my eyes. She's dead. I scream and burst out into quivering tears, while uncontrollably thrashing. "God damnit!"
She's actually dead. He wasted her life. He wasted her! The same thoughts repeat over and over in my head, making me angrier as I sob. Snot is sliding out from my nostrils and collects above my lip. I viciously wipe it away, still kneeling in a mixture of red dirt.
Footsteps tapping on the asphalt startles me, as I assume the beast has come back for more. I relax when I notice it's a man in a police uniform. He doesn't seem to be hurrying towards me, and there is no gun in his hands. Still, I'm cautious.
The officer stops a few feet away, looks down at the dead girl, then at me. He sighs lightly, then says, "It's okay, come with me."
Forcing the tears away, I respond, "How do you know I'm not-…"
"We just found the perp a couple blocks from here." He pauses. "And I noticed there's no blood on your mouth."
Chapter Six
A thick, wool blanket covers my shoulders; its warmth makes my cheeks overheat, though my body is thankful. Aching with dizziness, the throbbing in my head takes away any possibility of accurate thought.
While blankly staring into a puddle inches from me, I feel my soul melting into the earth. I reluctantly fold into a tiny seed, planted in the ground; curled up and far away from the world. The rippling reflections blur from my icy glower. An incomplete sensation clouds my focus and consciousness. Failure. That's the word. I'm a failure.
The red and blue lights dancing around in the alley unfortunately keep me in tact with the world. A handful of police officers and paramedics arrived a while ago; the ambulance has already taken the girl away. Crime Scene Investigators are examining the area, snapping photographs as they go. I'm not even sure how long I've been waiting here, or even where I am. Why am I waiting anyways?
Oh, that's right. The officer, Tokoma, had told me to stay here until Riku picks me up, after he took the time to interview me, that is. They also had me exchange my clothing for others, since it is evidence. To be honest, I really don't want them back. I would have gotten rid of the clothes anyways, burned them, buried them, something…
The police didn't talk to me much, especially since they already arrested the man… the beast.
"I understand you saw mostly everything that happened," he had said.
"Yeah, I guess I did," I replied, shaking and befuddled, like one is with too much caffeine.
"Are you okay to have me asking you questions?"
"Yes." That wasn't a lie. Maybe a bit of an exaggeration on my part, but not a lie.
"Tell me what you were doing just before all of this."
I took a deep breath before speaking. "I was walking home from spending time with my friends at Romi Café, after school."
Tokoma scribbled words onto a small pad of paper, using dark green, ball-point pen with Greywick Police printed on it in white letters. "What school do you attend? And who are your friends?"
"Belton High. Their names are Chiyo Morioka and Harumi Sato."
"Describe the suspect in as much detail as you can."
It was difficult for me to think of anything about him other than those grotesque, sharp, bloody teeth, convoyed by his monstrous height and devilish eyes.
The rather young policeman looked up from his writing, observing I had gone silent. "I'm sorry ma'am. If this is hard for you, we can stop." His pair of large, dark brown eyes gazed upon me with a sympathetic sense.
"He was really tall." Tomoka's eyebrows twitched, as if to be surprised, then he continued jotting his notes. "He wore a long trench-coat and a black suit. His hair was kind of golden-brown, and he's probably in his mid 30's."
Tomoka nodded as he finished lettering out my words. "Alright."
I had been really longing to ask a question of my own, though I was sure I already knew the answer; I still had a needy requirement for confirmation. "Why do they do this?"
He was a bit staggered at this, it was unexpected of me. Am I the first witness he's encountered to ask such a thing?
The short man gulped in the slightest bit and said, "Well, the stray vampires have always had a hard time controlling themselves. If their blood supply is low, they'll get desperate and take anything they can find. They basically become like a very hungry animal. All morals and rationality go out the window."
I was right; all of that information had previously been in my mind. "I see."
"One more question," Tomoka states. "The knife we found at the scene, is it yours?"
"Yeah, I always have it with me in case this kind of thing happens."
"There's blood on it, did you use it?"
Hesitating a little, I respond, "He attacked me, and I defended myself."
He puts his hand in the air. "It's just a question. I have to ask." I now realize I probably sounded snobby.
Now, I wear a pair of loose, sweatpant type of trousers and an itchy t-shirt three sizes too big. I am the only bystander to a murder, and I'm also a survivor of a vampire attack.
I just want to go home. I just want my brother here to hold my hand. I want to be home so I can run into my bedroom, stuff my face into a pillow, and cry. Cry like a pathetic, privileged little girl, whining about her first day of school.
Glancing up, I catch a glimpse of something. I don't believe I had seen that there before. Scanning the area, I'm dumbfounded. Behind all of the police officers and CSIs, through the thick darkness of the night, I see him for the first time.
I can't quite comprehend it; I feel too slow. Electric blue eyes are watching me from afar, and midnight black hair blends into the background. Who is that? Is he real?
I rub my eyes, waking out of my daze. Focusing closer, it becomes clear that I'm not hallucinating; there really is a young man looking at me. He stands on the other side of the alley, wearing a dark grey, pinstriped dress shirt, hands in his jean's pockets. My mouth forms a slight gape, while I continue to stare back.
He smiles so tenderly. All other noises go quiet, and a high pitched sound hazes my hearing. My peripheral vision smears into slow motion. I can't pull away. Why not? I feel like a fish being reeled out of a river; however, I have not been touched. Those eyes. Boldly glowing, they have my full and undivided attention. There's something about them…
Though scared and confused, I'm incredibly relaxed. The comfortable sensation of spacing out, gawking at a specific spot for some time is relatable. I could be asleep; perhaps I am, perhaps this is a dream. Do I know him? No, I think I'd remember someone like this. I'd remember such piercing, blue eyes.
Suddenly, the concentration is broken as he shifts his view aside. In a split second, a voice calls out, "Tama!"
I gasp and turn to the right to see Riku running towards me. He's stopped by a police officer, exclaims, "That's my sister!" and continues. Letting out a huge sigh of relief, I slowly step closer.
His expression is stained with worry and a sense of guilt washes over me. Poor Riku. He comes home from working all day, just to be scared out of his wits.
That would have been awful. I can't imagine the pain Riku would have suffered arriving to the scene, knowing I was deceased. There'd be two body-bags being hauled away, instead of one. He wouldn't have been able to say a final "goodbye" to me, or anything of the sort. He'd be left living all alone, forever punishing himself for not being there to protect me, and only getting the occasional company from Jonan.
By launching myself into such a dangerous position, and being killed, I'd be ripping away a vital source of comfort, companionship, and love from Riku. How selfish that would be of me.
I'm amazingly fortunate to be left with a few simple cuts and bruises; I'm also incredibly stupid.
Riku's pace doesn't slow as he approaches. He not only firmly embraces me, but lifts me into the air. Stunned and feeling as though I may collapse, I cling to his leather jacket, and the wool blanket slips off of my back. The soft musk of his cologne comforts me as my feet dangle around his knees.
He doesn't say a word, but holds me tighter and longer than he ever would grip his hot coffee cup during a snowy winter morning. Stressfully holding back a burst of tears, my eyes simply leak out little dabs onto his shoulder. I know he can feel me trembling, and it's shameful to me, embarrassing and disgraceful that I'm drooling out such emotions.
Riku finally loosens his hold on me and sets me down. I stare at his chest blankly, somewhat afraid to look at him. Gently, he pushes away my bangs, revealing the bandage hiding my wound.
"I'll re-do it when we get home," he says.
I look up at him, about to collapse. His hands are still grasping me at the waist, stabilizing my wobbly legs. "They're professionals. I'm sure it's just fine." My voice cracks, just as I'm trying to convince him, and myself, that I'm stronger than I seem.
Almost naturally, I turn my gaze back to the street in search of the mysterious boy.
Empty. Could I have imagined it? The frightening thing is, I'm legitimately not sure what reality is at the moment.
A nauseating sensation surges in my abdomen as the world starts to spin around me. I close my mouth tight and try to not to breath, mortified beyond belief.
Riku notices immediately. "Are you okay?"
Geez, why does this have to happen now? Taking a few staggers backwards, a quick streak of pain darts up my lower back. "I, I think I'm going to throw up."
He fully grabs hold of me before I begin to stumble to the ground, though I feel like I belong there, on the wet, stony road. "Come on, let's get you home," he says while pulling me along, and just like Riku always does, he removes his $80 jacket and puts it around my shoulders, even forcing my arms through the sleeves.
This is my older brother; I will never know how I got so lucky.