A/N: And I present you with the fastest update I've ever made. So, uh... Enjoy! o-o;
EDIT: THIS HAS BEEN COMPLETELY REWRITTEN AS OF DECEMBER 4, 2008.
Pairings: AkuRoku, Riku/Repliku, SoRiku, Zemyx, CLeon
Disclaimer: Me no own. But I do own the strange personality I gave Kairi. Sorry about that, by the way.
Dedication: To Critic Zoa. Your awesome-tastic reviews ALWAYS make me smile!
-x- KAIRI -x-
Ahh, coffee. The most sacred invention of man. When I get up in the morning, I have to have three to four cups of caffeinated goodness before I am actually motivated to do anything. After I get dressed and make breakfast – usually a bowl of Coco Crispies – I have to have another cup. While I'm drinking that, I prepare yet another cup to take to work with me. I usually end up finishing that cup before I get to work, and drink the crap-tastic stuff in the break room. (Beggars can't be choosers, though.) Then, at lunch, I have my final cup of the day.
Eh... Let's just say that I'm a coffee addict, and leave it at that, okay?
So, just who is this madwoman who's going on and on about how much coffee she drinks a day?
My name's Kairi Osaka. I live alone in one of the most expensive apartment complexes in town. (I'm not kidding about this shit, either. One month's rent is something like fifteen hundred dollars!) I made straight A's in high school, graduated at the top of my class from nursing school, and I currently work at a maximum security insane asylum.
Oops, I meant 'mental institute'. We're really not supposed to call it an 'asylum', despite that being what it is. I don't make the rules, I just abide by them. Sort of.
Anyway. My life sounds abso-fucking-lutely perfect, doesn't it? Bitch, please. You've only heard the boring part; the part that everyone else on the planet knows. Besides, do you really think that I would be able to afford to rent such a prestigious apartment on a measly nurse's paycheck, do you?
It all started with Sora Kayaki.... Sort of. Kind of. Okay, not really. Anyway, this is going to sound random, but trust me, it's totally related: I've been a dealer for the good majority of my life. Started in, say... seventh grade. I got so many kids into drugs that year. Half of them are spending their lives in jail, but hey, that was their decision. I just supplied the crack. Speaking of, that's usually what I dealt. Lighter stuff. Occasionally, though, when times got really hard at home, I would deal the harder stuff – meth, heroin, the works. Point is, I know what I'm doing.
It wasn't until I started working at the asylum (Fuck it, I'm just gonna call it the asylum.) that I learned about the real drug underworld. Heroin and weed were just too common. One could maybe make one, two hundred dollars dealing. If you were lucky, that is.
Ohh, but start dealing prescription drugs, such as Thorazine, Valium, Placidyl, even Lithium, and suddenly, you're making almost a thousand bucks a night! And dear Lord, stealing those drugs shouldn't have been that easy, but it was. I mean sure, on occasion, I've had to 'distract' a doctor or two, (Or five, or seven. Really, who's counting?) but that money was just so tempting... And I cannot resist the sweet siren's call of cold, hard cash.
But back to Sora Kayaki. He was such a sweet boy. Kind, caring, trusting, naïve almost to a fault, and completely smitten with someone he could never be with. Or so he told me. Personally, I didn't see what was so special about the boy with silver hair and turquoise eyes who played way too much Checkers, but to each his or her own. Anyway, I'm getting off track. Again. (I seem to be good at that...)
Sora was only the first to be... 'silenced', so to speak. He caught me stealing the drugs one day. Though, in all honesty, I was practically asking for it. I'm usually more careful, but stuffing drugs into your purse in the middle of a hallway isn't exactly the best way to go about stealing. I did the only thing I could think of and injected him with an overdose of insulin before he could get away. The effects were immediate. I remember him looking up at me with those big, ocean blue eyes and whispering, "I forgive you," before a seizure shook his small frame and he took one last shuddering breath.
Oddly, I wasn't as affected by this as I figured I would be. Before I'd been caught, I wouldn't even imagine killing a patient...
But now... The complete and utter chaos that followed upon the discovery of Sora's body was just so... glorious. Wonderful. Amazing. There are so many adjectives to describe the sweet chaos that ensued. Before, it had just been a simple task, taking and smuggling the drugs out of the asylum. During times of chaos, though, it was like taking candy from a baby, to use one of the most overused clichés of all time. No need to sneak around during break, no need to fuck a doctor... just waltz into the room and take them. It was really that simple.
I had to go through the West Wing to get to my car, so as I was sneaking that day's 'rewards' out of the asylum, I had to go right past Zexion's cell. As I went by, purse clutched closely to my side, I could hear Zexion screaming and banging around inside his cell, as well as Leon and Cloud yelling, trying to get the teenager to calm down.
"Get off of me!" Zexion screamed, and I couldn't help but notice the hoarse quality of his voice, as he'd been screaming for well over an hour. "Go find that stupid bitch! This is her fault, all her fault! Fuck, argh... Get the whore! Let me go, God dammit!" Though, despite the positively offensive things he was saying about me, I couldn't suppress the small smile that crept across my face.
The doctors would never believe Zexion and his accusations. I walked out of the asylum that day, content as could be. And, to top it off, that night I got the best night's sleep I'd gotten in ages. (My coffee consumption was cut down by half the following day, as well. Pretty fucking amazing, huh?)
When I got to work the next day, everything seemed to have calmed down. Most of the patients had either forgotten, or just didn't care enough, about the spunky brunette boy in the West Wing. Well, all but one, that is. I spotted the poor boy with silver hair and turquoise eyes with his head in Axel's (one of Rinoa's patients) lap as I retrieved one of my own patients from the rec room. His turquoise eyes were closed, and I could have sworn I saw tears rolling down his pale face, but that could have been my imagination. It didn't concern me, though, so I just lead my patient from the room, towards her cell in the East Wing.
"I can't believe that Sora's..." she commented as we approached her cell, trailing off mid sentence. I patted her shoulder in a meager attempt to comfort her, and unlocked the door to her cell. She was scared; I could see her shaking in fear that she might be next. I wanted to tell her that she would be okay, that the killer wouldn't come after her.
But everyone thought Sora's death was an accident. That it was just some cruel game Fate played, Sora as the undeserving victim.
And my actions the previous day may make you think I'm some heartless, uncaring, unemotional person. But I'm not, I'm really not. I just have fucked up priorities. Unfortunately, Sora found this out.
I gave the girl a hug, trying to calm her, before ushering her into her cell and closing the door. As I locked it, I couldn't help but remember that Zexion also had me figured out. And I decided then and there that I couldn't – wouldn't – give him a chance to persuade the doctors of his 'theory'.
"Nurse Osaka," my name crackled over the intercom with impeccable timing. "Nurse Osaka, please report to the West Wing." The West Wing. I only had one patient in the West Wing. I pulled on my rubber gloves and prepared a slightly heavier-than-normal dose of sedatives before beginning my journey across the asylum to Zexion's cell.
Zexion wasn't happy to see me. Then again, he never is. I watched, with the kindest smile I could force onto my face, as Cloud and Leon wrestled the thrashing teenager into submission, thrusting his pale arm out towards me. Violet eyes narrowed into slits as I flicked the needle a couple times – an odd habit, I know – and injected the sedatives into him. As he faded into sleep, he managed to snarl out one last expletive.
"Fucking bitch..."
"Good night, Zexion."
It wasn't a lethal dose. Not by a long shot. As I was stripping off my rubber gloves, and the two male nurses were carrying the now unconscious Zexion to his bed, I came to a horribly delightful realization.
Maybe, just maybe, there was something better than cold, hard cash.
Immortality.
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