Chapter 3: Darkness
My body was still aching from all of that walking today, but I was curious about the sirens. It sounded as if they were coming closer and closer.
Was there an accident?...
Sketch grabbed my raincoat for me as I gradually rolled out of bed. He was probably exhausted as well, but we both share this common, stubborn urge: We won't let an opportunity pass by without a care, without imposing any resistance against the flow of events around us. Even so, it was difficult to force myself off of the mattress; it was far more comfortable than what I paid for. I could've probably just lain there for the rest of my life.
I left my bag with all of my writing equipment inside the room, and then I locked the door. For the second time, I noticed the quaint craftsmanship of the doorknob. There wasn't a window in the room, but I could hear pattering from the ceiling, which was probably close to the roof. I didn't want my belongings to get soaked again, but this jacket was waterproof. We carefully rushed down the stairs, keeping a firm grip on the fine, vintage wood railings. This wasn't a standard hotel; it was an inexpensive inn run by an elderly widow. It used to be a house that belonged to her and her husband, but she moved around the furniture and ordered some renovations done after his death. She rents out rooms to travelers passing by; I guess she enjoys the company.
We walked down into the lobby, where Lady Patterson was behind the desk. Her white hair was bundled up nicely, and she was sitting in her armchair reading an old, worn book. She looked up at me as I came down, her face weathered by time, the fire in her eyes dimmed but still present. She carried a unique, almost unnatural air of liveliness.
"Why, hello, Ms. Badar," she said with her aged but compassionate voice, "It's good to see you again." I think that she noticed my clothes. "You're not planning on going out there, are you?" I couldn't hear the siren anymore, so the emergency vehicle must have stopped.
"Yes, I am," I replied, "I want to see what's going on outside."
Her face turned grave; she was startled with concern. "Are you sure? It's not very pleasant weather, you know."
"I'm a journalist," I explained, "It would be good for me to check things out, right?"
She stared at me for a while; I didn't fully realise what she was thinking about then until much, much later. She released a long sigh, and then stared back down at her book.
"Fine, fine... Just be sure to close the door on your way out. I don't want too much rain getting in here, and we don't want all of the heat to escape."
Sketch waved goodbye to her as we walked towards the main door. It looked far more modern compared to the rest of the building; everything in the main room was upgraded for added protection. It was the same with the windows. The curtains were shut now, but I noticed them earlier. We pulled the door open and walked outside.
As soon as we did, the wind nearly swept us away. The rain felt like needles against my body, even with the coat on. Sketch grabbed onto my leg for support; I could feel that his fur was already soaked. I looked around, and my vision was quickly blurred; the rain was collecting on my glasses. It was dark outside, and the sky was definitely cloud-covered. Trees were swaying in the wind; if the gusts were any stronger, a few of them might have fallen.
I noticed some flashing lights down the seaside walkway, so Sketch and I advanced down in the general direction. We walked slowly along the sodden pathway; it was like walking in a pool of shallow water. The lights were growing even brighter, flashing blue and red, colours dancing across the curtains of water.
In the veil of downpour, I saw them.
There was an ambulance and a police car parked by the pier, both of which roared from the pound of raindrops. We walked briskly through the heavy downpour. There were only a few people out there. It looked as if a boy in his mid-teens was injured and was receiving medical attention. I also saw what appeared to be a fisherman, along with a few men in uniform.
There was also something being loaded into the back of the ambulance; it was covered and rested on a stretcher.
I knew what that mound was.
I ran over, yelling, "Hey!" My voice was carried by the air, probably in the wrong direction, as soon as it left my mouth.
I saw one police officer turn his head and move towards me. I wondered if it was just a coincidence; I couldn't believe that someone actually heard me in these conditions. The storm was so crippling that the entire environment was conquered by the roars of wind and rain.
"What's going on? Did something happen?" I tried to ask.
It was difficult to really see, but I do remember one thing: Although the man was young, his eyes were dead. Not emotionally dead, just... dead, as if some intelligent weight was sucked right out of his being. His voice carried quite well through the storm, but it sounded strained and monotonous. "Nothing happened here. You should be indoors right now. It's not safe to be out in a storm like this."
My fingers were numb, and I could barely feel my face. My lips felt alien to me as I asked, "Is that person going to be okay?"
The officer grabbed me, a hand on each of my arms. He was wearing black gloves, but they were drenched as well, most likely even more than Sketch's fur. Water was running down his face. "Please, Miss. Go home. Nothing happened here."
I didn't want to give in, to give up. "I'm a journalist," I stammered in, "Please let me find out what happened."
I saw a few scarce emotions blitz across his face: irritation, contempt, despair, and a definite presence of pain. "Go. Home," he ordered, his voice piercing right through me. "If you don't comply, then we will be forced to take you into the station for questioning."
My face would've paled if it wasn't already frozen. I spun around and left without saying another word. I noticed Sketch stare at the man before taking my lead.
When we were a fair distance away, I looked back into the realm of darkness. The ambulance was already gone, and the police car was driving away into the obfuscating shadows.
I reached my hand up and touched my cheek. Cold and cold, wet and wet. My eyes were blurry, and my face was soaked. My legs were wobbling and I was trembling all over; I'm glad that Sketch was there with me.
Why?...
I was screaming when they were inspecting me; I was still screaming in the ambulance on the immortal ride to the hospital. The paramedics were vainly trying to bring her back.
"Are you okay, sir? Are you hurt?" they asked. Well, what do they fucking think? I just saw my best friend, my only friend, die before my very eyes, and what could I do?
I couldn't do fucking shit.
What was fucking wrong with them? Caitlin was there, dead, and they were still trying to bring her back somehow. They kept asking me if I was okay, like the cuts on my feet from the wooden dock even remotely compared to a permanent, eternal slumber.
Fuck.
I wailed like a baby all the way there.
Is that what she would have wanted? Would she have wanted to come back? Would she have wanted to see me like this, to watch this chaos? What would she have wanted me to have done?
I don't fucking know. There's something wrong with me.
My eyes stung; they were probably red and swollen. I could barely see; my world was just vague silhouettes of light.
More like darkness…
It felt as if the ambulance was no longer moving, but I was so detached that it barely made a difference to me. The paramedics were removing the stretcher to take into the building. I got out as well, limping, swaying, like some sort of zombie. There was something round and warm in my hands; it was gradually becoming too heavy for me to carry.
I heard a rush of footsteps. I felt someone grab me, and I heard voices… Perhaps it was my mother, or my father. It didn't really matter, as I couldn't understand a single fucking word they said.
I was considering my options up to the point when I passed out; I wanted this horrific nightmare to end and leave me in boundless solitude.
I was half-awake when I emptily scanned the rooms with my sore eyes. I vaguely heard murmurs, but I couldn't make out anything that was being said. There was something wrapped around both of my feet. Are these bandages?...
Somebody else was sobbing. I stared across this prison, and saw a relatively young woman with long, light brown hair. Her face was covered in her hands, but I recognised her instantly as Caitlin's mother. She was a single mother; Caitlin didn't like talking about it.
That meant that the two figures talking to the man in what appeared to be a white coat were probably my parents.
She was dead; there was no way that she could've survived what I just saw.
I silently began to sob to myself. Why was I saying things like this? There's always a chance, there's always a hope. There's always something to go by; Caitlin always said that, teaching me in her own peculiar, irrational way.
Where's that fucking hope now?
I tried to lift up an arm, and then I realised that I could barely move. I guess that I was exhausted.
More like defeated.
Even though my ears were definitely ringing, I was just able to hear something from my side. I strained my head just a bit to the right, and I witnessed a living, everyday miracle.
There was a Pokemon egg in a basket; it was the life that Caitlin gave hers to. It was shaking even more frantically than earlier; the noise must be the sound of the to-be-born Pokmon beating against the shell.
I then knew what I was going to do. In fact, I finally realised what she meant all this time.
She was gone, but her dream wasn't. Her wish: travel to Johto, enter the Pokemon League, compete in the Regional Championships, and win it all.
It was then that I decided to give up my life for Caitlin, whose own life was seized by chance but invested in an infinitely hopeful future.
It was all that I could do. After all, at least in my own opinion, it was a better option than hanging myself.
Where am I?...
Who am I?...
I can't feel anything…
I can't see anything…
But then I could.
I was in a world of darkness… Not just darkness, but it was as if nothing was there at all. It was like some kind of space of nothingness… and I felt like I was part of it as well. I temporarily lost all sense of identity. However, I saw an incoming light in the distance. It grew in size; I don't know if it was actually growing or if it was coming closer. The light gradually took shape into a small creature of sorts. It was pink. It had blue eyes and a long tail. I didn't know what it was. It just kept staring at me…
…
Like Richard.
I felt something inside me sink, and it only fell deeper inside of me with each returning second of the past. I realised who I was, but I still didn't know where I was.
I now knew what a Mew was.
"Hiya," it said... At least I think it said that. I didn't see its mouth move, but I heard its voice somehow.
"Where am I?" was what I wanted to say, but I couldn't. In fact, I still couldn't move at all.
"Where do you think you are?" Mew replied, with a grin on its face, "Nowhere, or now here?"
I would've been furious with the runty pink deity, but I had trouble feeling anything at the time.
I just did nothing.
Mew floated up and down before flying around me. I soon became unsure if I was standing up or lying down… It seemed as if nothingness didn't have any sense of orientation and direction.
"I don't know where we are either," Mew responded, smirking even more than before.
I really wanted to pummel the fucking little furball.
"You humans call it a lot of things… Hmm… How should I explain this…" It started to twirl around like a child's toy top.
"Umm…. How do I… Ah! Right, that's it. Your life is over. You died."
I remembered diving into the water for that egg. I couldn't let something so vulnerable like that just die before having the chance to live out its opportunities. When I saw the opening to throw it to safety, I took it. I thought that having both arms free would help me escape the water quicker as well, but I didn't expect to get thrown back into the water immediately… I didn't expect to be thrown into whatever I hit… I think that it was some kind of stupid ship.
"Mew?" I tried to say.
"Yeppers," it replied.
"Is the egg okay?"
"Yesh, it ish… Oh, and umm… Sorry, we don't have much time left. I kind of wasted it all having fun and stuff… Alright."
Mew flew right in front of my face and planted its big honking eyes in front of mine.
"Do you want to live again?"
I tried to process that, but something inside me wasn't working.
Its small triangular ears twitched. "Umm, we don't have much time left, so we need to decide quickly. Would you like to return to your world and live again? Would you like to be reborn?"
WAIT! Reborn! I would be able to li-
"What's the catch?"
It blinked once. "You'll be a Pokemon."
My hope disappeared just like that.
"A Pokemon?... You've gotta be fucking shitting me. Why can't I become human again?"
"Nopes," replied Mew, "become a living Pokemon, or stay an unliving whatever you call yourself now."
I was confused. Was my life some toy for the gods to screw around with? "Why are you even giving me a choice?"
"Because you had a good future ahead of you… but there's still a chance to compensate for what was lost, to make up for what could have been with what is yet to be."
I didn't know how to reply to that. Aren't they the ones responsible for controlling my destiny? Why would I have a choice?
"Look," interrupted Mew, "you honestly don't have much time left. I was going to go over the conditions with you, but then it would be too late to choose anyways. You need to make a decision right now. Yes, or no? Yes, or no? Yes, or no?"
Fuck, I wanted to punch the stupid thing in the face. "Okay, okay, I'll take it. But you better tell me those condi-"
Suddenly, I could feel again.
It felt like I was being torn apart from the inside. It was as if my body was crumbling in on itself, as if I was being sucked into a vacuum. I would've screamed in pain, but I still couldn't make a real sound. Or perhaps I was simply deaf…
"Sorry," Mew yelled, its voice fading into the void, "there's no more time! You need to go!"
Darkness.