Answer Me
When I looked out the window, I noticed that it was dark, and two of the moons had already risen. After finishing dinner, I'd only meant to come in here for a minute or two, but with all the thoughts swirling around in my brain, I'd lost track of time.
Turning my attention back to the unlit room, I tried to focus on something else. The carpet was an ugly color. I should get new put in. The wiring needed fixing, too. The light was off now, but when I did flip the switch, it was several seconds before the lone, bare light bulb responded, if it did at all. The brass head board was tarnished. I wonder if I could shine it... The bed. Oh, it was no use. Try as I might, my eyes time and time again returned to the unresponsive form laying there. My head in my hands, I relinquished myself to thoughts of my brother.
I had brought him here, not knowing what else to do. I couldn't kill him, no matter what he'd done. He was my brother. It would make her sad. But how sad had he made her? How many people were dead because of him? What was the penalty for murder? What would a sheriff have done if they'd caught him? Hah, what would a sheriff have if they'd survived? The penalty was probably jail. But how much of a penalty is that? You can still think. You can still talk to people. You can still see the suns shining, though through a barred window. But the dead can't see anything. Is that what he deserved? To be dead? To not think, talk, or see?
I picked up my head and gazed at the still figure across the room from me. He might already be dead... No... In the moonlight, I can just make out the slight rise and fall of his chest.
Is this enough punishment for him? He's as good as dead. But its not enough for me. This isn't enough revenge. It would be so easy... He's defenseless... One shot. One, and is would be over.
During these recent thoughts, I'd been running my hands through my hair. But now I clenched my fists and tugged. It didn't hurt much, but enough to bring me back to reality.
No, I couldn't do that! No one has the right to take the life of another! No one! But especially family.
A shaft of moonlight was resting on his face, lighting up the familiar features. Features I saw every day in the mirror.
My brother.
What was I going to do with him?
"Rem." I found myself whispering, "Rem, help." I raised my eyes to his face, which looked eerily angelic in the moonlight. "Rem, I don't know what to do. Help me, please. Tell me."
Though she could no longer answer in words, she answered in other ways. She would give me peace of mind, lead my thoughts to the answer, or help me choose my actions. But this time, nothing. She didn't answer. I still could feel the anxiety and frustration building up inside me. My thoughts were still going in circles. I was still torn between love and hate.
Frustrated, I looked out the window. The stars! Gazing at them, I always feel closer to her. Maybe then she would answer.
But all I saw was the fifth moon. It burned itself into my brain, filling my entire vision. The hole in it leered at me. The hole I put there. It seemed to beckon to me, whisper to me what I should do. Instead of claiming me, it felt like m brain was going to explode.
Angrily, I left my chair and went out into the dark hallway, slamming the door after me. Once there, I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling. I tried to make my mind a peaceful blank, white, like the ceiling paint. It didn't work, but at least, away from that room, my thoughts could turn to other things. If the fifth moon had risen, that meant it was after 2:00. I should go to bed.
In making sure I'd locked the front door, I noticed that the kitchen light was still on. I flipped the switch, and it went off. It was so easy. If you didn't need the light, didn't want it, you turned it off. If you realize later that you were wrong, you'd made a mistake, you could flip the switch and turn the light back on. Humans were entitled to mistakes. I was allowed to make them.
"But you're not human." I bitterly said out loud, "And you've already made more mistakes than anyone should be allowed to. Besides, an life isn't like a light. You can get a light back. A life is just plain gone."
I walked down the dark hallway, running my fingertips lightly along the wall. It was a habit I'd had since I'd- since we'd moved in. I also always kept the door to my room open. So I would know what was going on. Hah, so I would know what was going on in a room with its door closed. I smiled at the stupid idea, but left the doors how they were.
I stepped into my room. It was so neat and organized. Keeping the house that way kept me busy, and my thoughts from the next room.
After changing into my pajamas, I folded my clothes and neatly placed them on the chair. But when I put my shoes away, I caught a glimpse of red at the back of the closet. You were the Humanoid Typhoon when you wore that. A murderer without equal, they called you. And you were. No matter how hard you tried, you were. Could you one more time...?
Smacking my forehead to banish these thoughts, I slammed the closet door.
If you keep slamming doors like that, you'll wake him up. Hah. Wake him up. Could he be woken up? It was a thought that haunted me many sleepless nights. Sometimes I would wake up suddenly, expecting to seem him standing in my doorway. But he never was.
I climbed into bed, and before falling asleep, called once more on Rem. Again, she didn't answer. Had she abandoned me? No, she would never do that. Had I abandoned her? Had I turned away when I'd considered killing my brother? Was it, once again, my fault?
I awoke suddenly, sitting bolt upright in bed. What had woke me? I instinctively tensed and glanced at the empty doorway. I must have heard something. As I swung my feet out of bed, I felt a quick jolt, something like electricity, only more pleasant. If that meant what I thought it meant, then I was in deep trouble.
Rushing from my room, I paused at my brother's door, one hand on the doorknob. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. Steeling my nerves, I took a deep breath and opened the door.
At first, I only saw the fifth moon, sitting placidly in the window, throwing its light on the bed. And then, with my heart jumping to my throat, I realized that the bed was empty. No. Not empty. Its occupant had only moved to the foot of the bed, where he say huddled as though cold. I was frozen, one hand still on the doorknob, but something must have alerted him, because he lifted his head. As those ice blue eyes met mine, I felt a flood of pure terror.
If you're gonna kill him, do it now, or it'll be too late!
But instead, I took a step forward and cleared my throat. But my brother spoke first.
"Who... are you?" he whispered hesitantly, almost fearfully.
I faltered. What was he asking? He didn't know who I was?
"I'm... Vash." I said weakly.
This didn't look like it answered his question.
"Vash." He said quietly, as though tasting the word.
"Who... am I?" he asked, looking puzzled.
I took another tentative step forward.
"You're Knives. My... brother."
"I'm... Knives. You're Vash. My brother." He repeated, as though hearing it for the first time.
I found that I had taken yet another step and was right next to the bed. I sat down slowly, the feeling of terror giving way to curiosity.
"Do you remember?" I said in a near whisper.
Knives turned to face me, a look of confusion in his eyes.
"Remember what?" He seemed like a child. The way he talked was so simple, as if he'd half forgotten the words.
"Do you remember... before?" I asked, meeting his puzzled gaze.
Knives looked at the floor.
"Before..." He frowned, and bit his lip. "No."
He didn't remember! How couldn't he?! Is he playing a game? Acting? Or could he truly not remember? He slept, or, whatever, for six years. Could it be memory loss? Some sort of... amnesia?
was jolted out of my thoughts by another electricity-like shock. Knives had put his hand on my knee. His touch felt like fire. I glanced quickly into his eyes. He seemed to have been waiting for this before he spoke.
"I'm hungry." His voice was small, like a pleading child.
"Ok," I said a bit shakily. I stood up, and started toward the door. I realized that Knives wasn't following. Turning around, I saw that he had stood up, but was swaying slightly on his feet. Could he have forgotten how to walk? Or had six years of not moving made him weak? Back tracking, I held out my hand to him. As he took it, I again felt the jolt.
Leading him into the kitchen, I deposited him in a chair and set about finding something for him to eat. I was a bit nervous about turning my back on him. I wasn't convinced he'd forgotten. It could be an act. An act which he'd drop the moment I wasn't looking.
I set a bowl of cereal in front of him and sat down next to him.
He'd killed so many. Caused so much sadness. He had to pay!
I looked into his face, so much like my own.
No. He could start over.
You're ticket to the future is always blank.
Sitting here, watching Knives try to remember how to use a spoon, it came to me.
Rem had answered.
Her answer was my brother.
When I looked out the window, I noticed that it was dark, and two of the moons had already risen. After finishing dinner, I'd only meant to come in here for a minute or two, but with all the thoughts swirling around in my brain, I'd lost track of time.
Turning my attention back to the unlit room, I tried to focus on something else. The carpet was an ugly color. I should get new put in. The wiring needed fixing, too. The light was off now, but when I did flip the switch, it was several seconds before the lone, bare light bulb responded, if it did at all. The brass head board was tarnished. I wonder if I could shine it... The bed. Oh, it was no use. Try as I might, my eyes time and time again returned to the unresponsive form laying there. My head in my hands, I relinquished myself to thoughts of my brother.
I had brought him here, not knowing what else to do. I couldn't kill him, no matter what he'd done. He was my brother. It would make her sad. But how sad had he made her? How many people were dead because of him? What was the penalty for murder? What would a sheriff have done if they'd caught him? Hah, what would a sheriff have if they'd survived? The penalty was probably jail. But how much of a penalty is that? You can still think. You can still talk to people. You can still see the suns shining, though through a barred window. But the dead can't see anything. Is that what he deserved? To be dead? To not think, talk, or see?
I picked up my head and gazed at the still figure across the room from me. He might already be dead... No... In the moonlight, I can just make out the slight rise and fall of his chest.
Is this enough punishment for him? He's as good as dead. But its not enough for me. This isn't enough revenge. It would be so easy... He's defenseless... One shot. One, and is would be over.
During these recent thoughts, I'd been running my hands through my hair. But now I clenched my fists and tugged. It didn't hurt much, but enough to bring me back to reality.
No, I couldn't do that! No one has the right to take the life of another! No one! But especially family.
A shaft of moonlight was resting on his face, lighting up the familiar features. Features I saw every day in the mirror.
My brother.
What was I going to do with him?
"Rem." I found myself whispering, "Rem, help." I raised my eyes to his face, which looked eerily angelic in the moonlight. "Rem, I don't know what to do. Help me, please. Tell me."
Though she could no longer answer in words, she answered in other ways. She would give me peace of mind, lead my thoughts to the answer, or help me choose my actions. But this time, nothing. She didn't answer. I still could feel the anxiety and frustration building up inside me. My thoughts were still going in circles. I was still torn between love and hate.
Frustrated, I looked out the window. The stars! Gazing at them, I always feel closer to her. Maybe then she would answer.
But all I saw was the fifth moon. It burned itself into my brain, filling my entire vision. The hole in it leered at me. The hole I put there. It seemed to beckon to me, whisper to me what I should do. Instead of claiming me, it felt like m brain was going to explode.
Angrily, I left my chair and went out into the dark hallway, slamming the door after me. Once there, I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling. I tried to make my mind a peaceful blank, white, like the ceiling paint. It didn't work, but at least, away from that room, my thoughts could turn to other things. If the fifth moon had risen, that meant it was after 2:00. I should go to bed.
In making sure I'd locked the front door, I noticed that the kitchen light was still on. I flipped the switch, and it went off. It was so easy. If you didn't need the light, didn't want it, you turned it off. If you realize later that you were wrong, you'd made a mistake, you could flip the switch and turn the light back on. Humans were entitled to mistakes. I was allowed to make them.
"But you're not human." I bitterly said out loud, "And you've already made more mistakes than anyone should be allowed to. Besides, an life isn't like a light. You can get a light back. A life is just plain gone."
I walked down the dark hallway, running my fingertips lightly along the wall. It was a habit I'd had since I'd- since we'd moved in. I also always kept the door to my room open. So I would know what was going on. Hah, so I would know what was going on in a room with its door closed. I smiled at the stupid idea, but left the doors how they were.
I stepped into my room. It was so neat and organized. Keeping the house that way kept me busy, and my thoughts from the next room.
After changing into my pajamas, I folded my clothes and neatly placed them on the chair. But when I put my shoes away, I caught a glimpse of red at the back of the closet. You were the Humanoid Typhoon when you wore that. A murderer without equal, they called you. And you were. No matter how hard you tried, you were. Could you one more time...?
Smacking my forehead to banish these thoughts, I slammed the closet door.
If you keep slamming doors like that, you'll wake him up. Hah. Wake him up. Could he be woken up? It was a thought that haunted me many sleepless nights. Sometimes I would wake up suddenly, expecting to seem him standing in my doorway. But he never was.
I climbed into bed, and before falling asleep, called once more on Rem. Again, she didn't answer. Had she abandoned me? No, she would never do that. Had I abandoned her? Had I turned away when I'd considered killing my brother? Was it, once again, my fault?
I awoke suddenly, sitting bolt upright in bed. What had woke me? I instinctively tensed and glanced at the empty doorway. I must have heard something. As I swung my feet out of bed, I felt a quick jolt, something like electricity, only more pleasant. If that meant what I thought it meant, then I was in deep trouble.
Rushing from my room, I paused at my brother's door, one hand on the doorknob. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. Steeling my nerves, I took a deep breath and opened the door.
At first, I only saw the fifth moon, sitting placidly in the window, throwing its light on the bed. And then, with my heart jumping to my throat, I realized that the bed was empty. No. Not empty. Its occupant had only moved to the foot of the bed, where he say huddled as though cold. I was frozen, one hand still on the doorknob, but something must have alerted him, because he lifted his head. As those ice blue eyes met mine, I felt a flood of pure terror.
If you're gonna kill him, do it now, or it'll be too late!
But instead, I took a step forward and cleared my throat. But my brother spoke first.
"Who... are you?" he whispered hesitantly, almost fearfully.
I faltered. What was he asking? He didn't know who I was?
"I'm... Vash." I said weakly.
This didn't look like it answered his question.
"Vash." He said quietly, as though tasting the word.
"Who... am I?" he asked, looking puzzled.
I took another tentative step forward.
"You're Knives. My... brother."
"I'm... Knives. You're Vash. My brother." He repeated, as though hearing it for the first time.
I found that I had taken yet another step and was right next to the bed. I sat down slowly, the feeling of terror giving way to curiosity.
"Do you remember?" I said in a near whisper.
Knives turned to face me, a look of confusion in his eyes.
"Remember what?" He seemed like a child. The way he talked was so simple, as if he'd half forgotten the words.
"Do you remember... before?" I asked, meeting his puzzled gaze.
Knives looked at the floor.
"Before..." He frowned, and bit his lip. "No."
He didn't remember! How couldn't he?! Is he playing a game? Acting? Or could he truly not remember? He slept, or, whatever, for six years. Could it be memory loss? Some sort of... amnesia?
was jolted out of my thoughts by another electricity-like shock. Knives had put his hand on my knee. His touch felt like fire. I glanced quickly into his eyes. He seemed to have been waiting for this before he spoke.
"I'm hungry." His voice was small, like a pleading child.
"Ok," I said a bit shakily. I stood up, and started toward the door. I realized that Knives wasn't following. Turning around, I saw that he had stood up, but was swaying slightly on his feet. Could he have forgotten how to walk? Or had six years of not moving made him weak? Back tracking, I held out my hand to him. As he took it, I again felt the jolt.
Leading him into the kitchen, I deposited him in a chair and set about finding something for him to eat. I was a bit nervous about turning my back on him. I wasn't convinced he'd forgotten. It could be an act. An act which he'd drop the moment I wasn't looking.
I set a bowl of cereal in front of him and sat down next to him.
He'd killed so many. Caused so much sadness. He had to pay!
I looked into his face, so much like my own.
No. He could start over.
You're ticket to the future is always blank.
Sitting here, watching Knives try to remember how to use a spoon, it came to me.
Rem had answered.
Her answer was my brother.