When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done.

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed.

Don't resent me.

And when you're feeling empty,

Keep me in your memory.

Leave out all the rest.


The day passes uneventfully. I was kept on edge; waiting for the speakers to call me to the infirmary, or even Umeda knocking on my door.

But nothing happened.

Absolutely nothing.

I do homework. Read a bit. Take a bath. (I note Nakatsu has made all the razors disappear.) Wonder where the hell the quack doctor is.

I guess I should be grateful. I don't want to go to the hospital. If I do, they'll weigh down my brain with pills and tell me everything I think is wrong. And my aunt will drive up and yell at my father, and she'll probably ignore my father and pay to have me DNA tested herself this time.

But nobody comes for me.

When night falls and it's time to go to sleep, Nakatsu waits until I have gone to bed before slipping under his own covers, despite the fact he's been yawning all day. Even after I start breathing slowly to make him think I've fallen asleep, his aura still indicates he's wide awake. He drifts in and out, exhaustion battling with his concern for me.

I think about running.

It would be easy. I have a credit card I could use until my father cancels it. (And I knew he wouldn't. He wouldn't want to chance me starving, and if I were careless the authorities could track me down. Not that I would be.) I could go to the bank and empty my account. I didn't need much from here. Throw some clothes in a bag, a few books. That's all I really need.

Where could I go? I couldn't stay in Japan. The police would track me down in no time. I'd need to get out of the country, fast, and without needing to use my passport. Which I doubt I could safely do.

I could just run and live on the mountains. I'd have the ghosts of lost hikers and suicide victims to keep me company. I could cut and starve and scream as much as I wanted and no one would care.

I could. The one person who would stop me will fall asleep soon enough. I really could.

But for some reason, I stay bound to my bed.

It's not my mother's doing. She's sitting on the edge of my bed, looking up at the sky. Resigned. Given up on me. Which makes sense. I'm hopeless, right? There's nothing she can do for me now. There's nothing anyone can do to help me. I'm done. I'm already dead.

I'm lost.

I can't find my way out of the snow. I've been freezing out here so long, I don't think I can remember the warmth of others around me.

Because I won't let them near me. I've constructed ice walls around me to protect myself from my friends and family. I've fallen into the freezing lake, then built high towers around the perimeter and posted armed guards to prevent anyone from trying to pull me out, bring me to the sun.

'Look what happened when you let HIM in.' The voice in my head curls around my brain. 'He pushed you in deeper. Just to watch you drown.'

"Stop..." I mumble to my pillow. I turn my face into in and surpress the urge to scream. "Stop..."

"Kayashima?" I raise my head a fraction of a centimeter at the sound of my name. Nakatsu's groggy voice floats up to my level. "Kayashima? Taiki? Are you alright?" With every syllable, I can hear the sleepiness in his voice evaporate and the telltale sounds of his bedsheets being thrown to side as he swung his legs onto the ground. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"No." I bite my lip to keep from screaming it out. "I'm fine. Just a bad dream." Nakatsu's aura relaxes. I can breathe again. "Sorry for waking you."

"No...it's fine. Wake me up if you...if you feel like hurting yourself, okay?"

I close my eyes and refuse to feel the happiness and acceptance that came with Nakatsu admitting he cared more about me cutting than sleep. Refused to admit that Nakatsu was doing this because he cared.

'Because no one cares.'

"Thanks. I'm fine. You can go back to sleep now."

Nakatsu mumbled something in response, but I don't hear, because my head is back underwater again.


That night, it seemed like the ghosts were especially committed to keeping me submerged in the icy waters than before.

That day, the darkest day of my life, repeated itself a million times in my head. Every new time seemed to last forever, one day dragging into thousands of years. Every little detail jumping out to jab me. Suck the blood from my wounds. Drive me a little closer to the edge.

Killing me.

But it takes no time at all. It just keeps repeating itself. Over and over. And the clock never changes. The sun won't rise and release me from night's deadly grip.

I roll over from my stomach onto my back. My mother notices and bends over to kiss my forehead. Her hand curls around mine, not quite touching it.

I don't know if she wants me to heal. I know I make her sad. I can't tell if that's because I'm the one who killed her or because I've been dead my whole life.

I don't know if it causes her the same pain it causes my father. Knowing that I'm rejecting their gift of life. Knowing I resent them for ever giving it to me.

My father ignored every sign I gave him during my years of junior high. Ignored me when I'd stop eating for days at a time, feeling unworthy of the life it gives. Ignored me when I'd pass out from the hunger. Ignored me when I wore long sleeve shirts in July. Ignored me when I was daring enough to wear a shirt without sleeves to dinner once a few days after I slashed myself to ribbons with a razor, just to see if they'd notice.

The didn't.

At least, they pretended not to.

I wasn't important enough to acknowledge.

I sigh and crack my neck. My father admitted he knew what was going on at the time, the one time he let the tears fall in front of me. I lay in the hospital bed, my arm stuck with needles that were pumping drugs and water and God only knows what else, unable to speak. He clutched me hand and kept his tearful eyes away from my blank ones.

That day was the day he told me I was going to Osaka. He told me I wouldn't ever have to see my old classmates ever again. (Many of them actually emailed me apologies after they heard what I did. Ryoto was not one of them. He was the only one who mattered.) He all but forbade me from leaving the house alone while I was still living with him.

He wrote to the school personally and told them about my 'situation' and asked if they could possibly match me up with a more upbeat roommate. He had my doctor put me on about five million different medications to make my self-of-steam bigger, another to make my craziness small. More to make the flashing blades disappear. And yet more to make me exhausted. So tired I couldn't even think about trying to hurt myself again. I could hardly drag myself out of bed to eat dinner some days, with the bricks the pills tied to my head.

He put in so much effort in keeping me alive, when he could have just let me die. Left him alone.

He loves you.

I look up, but my mother is silent. She's staring sorrowfully up at the moon. Probably wishing she could be there instead of stuck to her failed son. The ghost that's stuck in the world of the living.

What kind of ghost can't even die?

I hear the non-mistakable sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. My hand goes to my face, and I realize that salty, wet tears have slid down my face.

I've been crying. As I realize that, a half-choked sob escapes from my throat, like an admission of guilt.

And I woke Nakatsu up.

"Kayashima? What's wrong?" Nakatsu's voice is slightly panicked, slightly relieved in seeing me here in one piece.

I wipe my eyes. "N-nothing. I'm f-f-fine..."

Nakatsu's strong arms wrap around me. He sits on the bed and uses the hand that's not currently wrapped around my waist to push my face into his chest. His fingers trail through my hair, in an almost pet-like fashion.

"You can cry." He whispers into my hair. "In fact, it's probably better if you did. I'm not going to leave you. Just cry."

I did.


When I wake up in the morning, Nakatsu is on the floor, his comforter thrown on top of him and his pillow jammed under his head. My blankets are arranged neatly on top of me, carefully placed to keep me warm.

Then I remember what day it is. February 22nd. It's my birthday. I'm seventeen.

Huh. Forgot that was coming up.

I slide out of the frozen bed and shake Nakatsu.

"Nakatsu...get up. It's time for school."

He groans and stretches, then seems to realize where he is and bolts upright, almost knocking me in the head.

"Right...yeah. Let's go."

We dress quickly and head over to the cafeteria. The others look surprised to see me, but no one says anything until Nakao decides to make his grand entrance.

"'Shima, didn't you go to the doctor yesterday?" He asks in disbelief a few seconds after he sits down. I take a non-committal sip of coffee. The others lean in, eager for the answer to the questions they've all been wanting to ask.

"Yeah. He's calling my father." It's truth enough.

"That's all?"

"Do you want me gone?" I snap, then immediately regret. His face fell.

"No...that's why I wanted Umeda to do something."

The arrival of Nanba distracted everyone from interpreting the meaning of Nakao's words.

The day passed by yet again without me being summoned by the doctor. I was beginning to wonder if Umeda had simply forgotten about me.

At the end of the day, I decided to go straight to Umeda and ask if he was going to cart me off to the nut house or keep me here. I deserved to know.

When the last bell rings, Nakao gets up and starts walking with me. I would have just bolted for the door as soon as school was over if it hadn't meant worrying my friends. I ignore his chatter as we walk over to the infirmary.

I practically want to go in there and yell at the doctor at this point. I'm furious about being kept in the dark, about being told what will be best for me like a child. But the fury and resentment evaporated as soon as the snow stops crunching underneath my boots and I saw the two people standing in front of the doctor's office, her face turned into his sleeve, him looking down in sorrow. They both raise their heads as they hear me approach. He actually puts on a fake smile and raises his hand in a half-wave when he sees me.

"Dad."


After a brief introduction of Nakao to Miyako and Dr. Kayashima, my parents load me up in their car and take me out for a 'birthday dinner.' Utter bullshit. They wouldn't drive all the way out here just to take me out to dinner. We all know why they're here. We all know this is going to end with me being carted off to the loony bin.

But they haven't said a word since I saw them out in front of Dr. Umeda's office.

So, here I sit. Eating dinner. Sitting on one side of the table while my parents sit on the other; hands clasped beneath the table in support. A united front against Misfit Son. Their guns are loaded and my defenses are down. It will be a short battle.

...So why are we still here?

We've been silent for about eight minutes now. Pretending to be absorbed in the food. I slouch forward and keep my hair hanging in my face so I don't have to look at them. My arms are hidden under my sweatshirt, but I can feel the cuts burn brightly to alert everyone of their presence.

Miyako clears her throat, and I glance up through the dark ends of my hair. Her contribution to the conversation has basically been asking about my grades and talking about her niece and three nephews. But now she gives a pointed look to my father, Dr. Kayashima, and stands.

"I have to return a few phone calls to a couple clients." She says. "I'll be back soon." She smiles at me before walking away. I roll my eyes.

She's lying through her teeth. She wouldn't call her clients back during one of her rare visits with me. She'll probably just call her sister and chat with her until we come back out. She's faking it so she can give my father and me some time alone. Some time to talk.

Whatever.

My father keeps his eyes trained to my downturned face. Watching me. I don't look up. I won't give him the satisfaction. Dr. Kayashima clears his throat.

"Taiki, I-"

"I know why you're here, Dad." I interrupt, throwing my chopsticks onto the plate. "Dr. Umeda called you. I know. I told him." I peek through my eyelashes to gauge his reaction. His face remains impassive.

"Yes...he did tell me you came to him under the influence of your friends."

"It was my own choice." I raise my head, daring him to look into my eyes for the first time in years. Of course, he averts his gaze.

"Your friends went to your doctor before you out of concern, did they not?"

"I didn't have to go myself." I say, curling my fists underneath the table. If I had an ounce of guts, I'd take this stupid steak knife on the table and roll up my sleeve and slash.

But that would majorly screw me.

So I bite my lip.

"I don't care." My father says, hanging his head. "Whether you admit it or not, you're hurting yourself. Again." He closes his eyes and inhales sharply through his nose. He breathes out shakily.

"So you're actually going to say something to me this time?" I bite. "Not just ignore me and go on with your perfect life?"

His eyes flash at mine, cold cobra eyes. Venom snakes in and wraps around my lips. "What am I supposed to do? Wait to find you strung up somewhere again?"

He grips the table, shaky breathing, trying to keep himself from getting up and beating me senseless.

"And my life is nowhere perfect." He looks up, staring at the space above my left ear. "Not when you want to die."

I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood.

Why the hell do you care?

"I'm fine."

"You are not!" My father slams the table so hard the plates shake and I jump. He shakes. Just...shakes.

"You're cutting yourself. You're thinking about killing yourself again. You're sick. You need help."

Why? Why are you all so concerned with fixing me? I'm broken beyond repair. I'm not even worth the effort. Why? Why do you care?

I stare at him. He still avoids meeting my eye. Like he always does.

If you want to see me break...

"Why do you care?"

That must have shocked him enough to look even close to my face.

"What do you mean, why do I care?"

"Why do you care if I cut? Why do you care if I die?" My hand grips the knife. "Why do you care about me at all?"

Dr. Kayashima's hand covers the one currently gripping the knife. He runs his thump across my knuckle.

"You're my son." He says softly. "I love you."

I drop the knife on the table. My hand retreats; away from this man.

"Like hell you do." I spit. "You never even paid attention to me when I was right in front of you. You didn't even say anything when you knew I was cutting myself."

"I was scared for you."

"Whatever." I get up. There is no point in continuing this conversation. It's over.

"Wait! Taiki!" He grabs my arm as I reach the partition to our eating area. "Please listen to me. I'm your father. I love you."

I yank my arm away.

"You don't even know that." I say to the floor. "What about this other guy? Mom's old boyfriend? If you're so sure I'm yours, why don't you let my aunt do a DNA test?"

No words. I knew he had nothing for that.

"I think we're done here."

I turn to go, but he grabs my shoulders and yanks me back to face him.

"You're not going anywhere. We're going to sit down and talk. And after that, Miyako and I are driving you straight to the hospital. You're clearly not stable." He shakes as he makes his way to the table, putting his palms down on the smooth surface to keep himself upright. I feel like I might explode from the anger stemming from being told what to do.

'You never know what a person is capable of until they're pushed to the edge.'

Shut up. Just shut up!

"So you're just going to lock me up again?" I nearly yell. "Just going to lock me away so you don't have to deal with me?"

"I would like nothing more than to bring you home and not have to worry about keeping anything sharp lying around." He says quietly. "I don't want to have to worry about you talking to dead people. I don't want to worry about coming home and finding you dead." He looks up, straight into my soul. For once. "Please, Taiki. Please stop hurting yourself."

My heart explodes.

"Is this what you don't want?"

I pick up the slick steak knife from the table. Dr. Kayashima moves to grab it, but I'm faster. I roll down my sleeve to reveal the old scars, my new wounds on my arm.

"Is this what you're afraid of?"

I don't think. I just make the slashing motion. I wait for the pain. I wait for something.

Nothing. I can't feel a thing.

I raise my arm and let the blood fall into the canyons that separate me and my father and slick the million miles of bumpy road between us.

"Well, guess what? You're not my father! You can't tell me what to do!"

I turn and run.

I ignore Dr. Kayashima's frantic yells as he comes after me. I ignore Miyako as she yells something after me as I tear out of the restaurant.

'It's over.' The demon inside me says. 'It's done. And so are you.'

Just stop! Stop! Stop doing this to me!


My attention lapses in and out. The scenes in front of me change as if they're on a reel. I don't feel cold. I don't feel short of breath. I don't feel any pain from the slash on my arm or the gaping hole in my heart.

I have no sense of what time it is. How long I ran. Where I was going.

The demon fights for control. 'You're done. End it now. Nobody will care. They'll be happier without you.'

I don't fight back.

I find myself standing on the grounds of my school. Blink and I'm inside my dorm. Exhale and I find my feet pumping up and down on the stairs. Brush the snow and blood away from my eyes and I'm opening the door to the room I share with Nakatsu.

No one is here.

Nakatsu is at soccer. My parents are at the restaurant.

Where am I?

I'm lost.

I walk up to my personal level. My hands clench and suddenly I'm ripping books from their shelves. Pages fall out and flutter to the floor. Sweaters and pants and socks follow them. My bed is ripped apart. I can't seem to satisfy the voice in my head

"What are you waiting for? No one is here to stop you. Do it. End yourself now."

I want to scream, but someone has snuck down my throat and wrapped barbed wire around my vocal cords.

"No one cares. You need to die. Tonight."

Leave me alone. Just go away. Leave me in peace.

It won't be satisfied. My feet bring me to the bathroom, and my hands search the medicine cabinet for my neglected pills.

It's empty.

Damn you, Nakatsu.

My grandmother's pearl handled knife slithers out from between Nakatsu's mattress and boxspring and finds its way to the side of the sink.

I know what to do.

I crank the bathtub handle to BOIL. I don't watch it fill up. I turn my back and strip off all my clothes. My fist closes over the handle of the knife. I stare at my reflection in the condensation collecting on the mirror. I'm paler than the dead. The blue water under my skin is frozen. It doesn't move.

I cut.

I put the knife up against the side of my neck and slash down to below my heart. Deep enough to flay me open. Deep enough so I can finally feel something.

The ice cage screams and wraps itself closer around my burning heart.

Euphoria rushes through me. My eyes close in content, my mouth opens but my throat has long since stopped working. I've stopped breathing.

I hack away. The ghosts inhabited my body fight for every inch, but eventually give up and fly away. I tip back my head and laugh. Salty tears fall from my normally empty eyes; sweet sweat sluices down my spine. I am finally, finally warm.

"You're done."

I blink and raise my hands to block the li-


.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.


"I'm sure he didn't come back h-." Someone says, out in my room a million miles away. Footsteps sound as they walk up the staircase, a gasp, and a scurry of feet pounding their way across the floor and throwing the door open-

Noe stands in the threshold of the mortal world and my tomb. He sees the knife discarded on the floor. Sees the red paint on my face, sees the tub of blood. Sees me.

My friend's screams shatters the mirror.


Forgetting

All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well.

Pretending

Someone else can come and save me from myself.

I can't be who you are.


So. I am probably totally spoiling the effect by writing an A/N, but I am anyway.

This chapter was really hard for me to write, not gonna lie. But honestly, I have to remember that this is Kayashima's story. I'm just telling it.

Thank you to the FOUR lovely people who reviewed. ESPECIALLY collineesh, who always leaves wonderful, wonderful reviews that light up my day. You are better than cake.

I actually got this chapter out fast. Probably because I just COULD NOT stop writing. My APUSH is neglected...that's what I will be doing when I'm through spellchecking this.

By the way, my brother says hi. He read this...and now he says he understands why we want him to get help for his depression. He's going inpatient tomorrow. It's kinda scary, but I love him and I'm so glad something I wrote led him to make this kind of decision. I hope that anyone who reads this who struggles with depression and/or self harm can understand how hard it is on your friends and family. (Yeah...I know it's a fanfiction...I just hope that my writing this, I help one or two people.)

Random Fact: There are no wild tigers in Africa. Only in Asia.