Price of Forgiveness
--
Part I: The Heart Won't Lie
To live up to its reputation,The glass rose lives its lie.Hiding its imperfections from the world,It goes on as if nothing were the matter.Perfection comes at a great cost, however.For fooling those fickle few into forgetting its flawsIt, itself cannot forget…Which is, in a way, the greatest flaw of all.
She passed her hands over her face tiredly, finally resting them on her temples and massaging them rigorously. Even though Hatanaka and Shuuichi had been gone the entirety of the day, and much to her thanks still were, it had been an exhausting day.
Well, perhaps not physically exhausting, but mentally. Since the previous afternoon her thoughts had been dwelling nonstop on Shuichi. She was thankful that her family had not been around to see her reaction to his antics, and eternally grateful that they were not here now, to see the repercussions of her reaction.
"But, what was I supposed to do…?" she mumbled tiredly, allowing herself to fall back into the plush and welcoming cushions of the reclining chair inhabiting her dank, under-furnished living room. "Whatever it was, that he was doing… it wasn't human… That, that thing—" She stopped suddenly. Thing? Did she suddenly regard him as no more than a… thing?
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she assured herself flatly. "He, whoever he was — was not my son." Yet, the words did nothing to assure her of the fact. She had spoken them unsurely, almost reluctantly, as though a part of her knew better, knew otherwise.
Sighing she took up the remote. "I just… need to relax…" She turned it on and watched as the screen flickered after a moment of static. "Maybe watching the evening news will… calm me…"
As the man on the news continued to ramble on in the soothing monotone typical of all news anchors, she began to doze. Somewhere along the time that he brought up the current day's updates she was already watching half-lidded and sleepy, content with the steady thrum of the man's voice drifting through her ears.
"This just in!" the man suddenly erupted, causing her to jump again to full awareness and watch as he continued on. "We've just received word that a young man, appearing high school age, has been admitted into the Nakayama Prefectural General Hospital. Word is that a fellow student found him lying unconscious on the school's roof. According to the witnessing student, the student attends prestigious Meiou High School in eastern Nakayama Prefecture. What a stain to add to their school's name: Student found unconscious and bleeding to death on school roof."
The scene flew from the newscaster's face to the scene of the incident. The area was largely roped off by a yellow string of police line, black spider webs of print fanning across the screen with "police line, do not cross" painted across them. The center of the tiled roof was muddled a dirty crimson and puddles of red ran steadily in the creases of the tiles, draining into the drainage line trailing along the edge of the roof and into the sewers some floors below.
The scene cut back to the newscaster. "There is no word yet if the boy will survive, as we still await the hospital's account. The boy who found and rode with the victim to the hospital identified himself as one Urameshi, Yuusuke, of Sarayashiki Prefectural Junior High School, and has confirmed the identity of the other boy, Minamino, Shuichi of Meiou High. More information as it comes to us in the studio concerning this incident—"
As he continued on with the other stories she stood quickly, almost knocking the recliner backwards in her haste. The newscaster's words were muted in her ears, her thoughts registering naught but his latest report:
Bleeding to death — Meiou High — Minamino, Shuichi.
As the words registered, they danced a morbid little jig across her thoughts, tap-dancing along her skull. Making a hurried dash to the door she slipped on her shoes cumbersomely and sprinted through the door in a dazed flash.
"Oh, dear God. My boy — MY BOY," fell from her lips as the door slammed behind her.
--
His head rested tiredly in his hands as he rocked unceremoniously back and forth on two of the four legs propping up the rigid, cold hospital chair he had occupied since his arrival there — they would not allow him to see his friend and had promptly ushered him into the hallway where he now sat waiting.
"Damn him. I can't believe this. Can't believe him…" The self-same mantra had been falling miserably off of his lips repeatedly since his arrival there as well. It suited him, and suited the situation; besides, it passed the minutes however dreary. "Damn it."
Another of his companions paced anxiously along the hall; his head hung low, eyes trained on the thin, marginal gray-black carpet lining the otherwise linoleum floor. He had gotten the call from Yuusuke minutes after he had been pulled into this damned hospital, and he himself had rushed here as well. Needless to say, he had been just as successful as Yuusuke when it came to getting to his friend. His failed attempts resigned him to his current pacing. He muttered angrily under his breath, the words best left un-deciphered.
A lock clicked resoundingly; its hollow sound over-exaggerated in the thick silence, hanging like fog over the hall. Instinctively, the two teens look up, acknowledging the source of the sound with eyes of ebony and chestnut, both containing equal parts discomfort, impatience, and anger close to over-boiling.
A middle-aged gentleman in a white overcoat stepped from within the threshold, clipboard tucked securely under his arm; pen safely in his coat pocket. He glanced briefly to the impatient teens eyeing him with an almost vindictive air.
"Well?" Yuusuke demanded, jumping up from the chair and rapping his knuckles impatiently against the wooden sill of the receptionist's box behind him.
The chair fell backwards with the motion and clattered back noisily against the linoleum. The sound made him wince. Kuwabara spared a glance to the man as well, his countenance stony, a deep line set between his eyes.
"Boys," the doctor began mildly, pushing his oval spectacles farther up his nose, "I'm afraid I'm not qualified to divulge that information to you."
"And what does that mean?" Yuusuke shot back, his eyes glazing in anger.
"You are not, I can assume, Mr. Minamino's parent or legal guardian, are you?"
"What's that gotta do with any of this?" Kuwabara asked, coming to Yuusuke's side. His voice was calm, but it held that calm-before-the-storm kind of tone that suggested his patience was wearing thin.
"It has everything to do with it, boys," the doctor sneered, as though amused by their ignorance.
"Well, spit it out then!" Yuusuke demanded, forcibly calm. The vein in his temple throbbed, and his eyebrow twitched as it so often did when he was angry.
"Holding no legal responsibility over the patient, you have no right to know his current state. I'm terribly sorry." Though as he said the words, it was obvious that he wasn't in the least bit sorry.
"Can we at least see him, then?" Yuusuke snarled under his breath.
"I'm afraid not."
"What? Why the hell not!?" he shouted. And suddenly, he was on his feet, his hands balled into fists within the folds of the doctor's meticulously starched and pressed coat. He shook the man furiously, screaming in the man's face. "Why the hell not you sonofa—"
The doctor put his hands around Yuusuke's and pried the coat from his enraged hold, amazingly calm for one on the verge of physical assault. "Dear boy, you are not allowed to see him until the case has been seen to by a parent or legal guardian. You'll have to wait."
"Wait!? What do you think I've been doing, jackass!? I brought him here, isn't that right enough!?" he screamed, his eyes shining in malice, and his hands balled into fists at his side so tightly that they were turning white and twitching with the same itching desire to wrap themselves around the good doctor's throat. God, it was so tempting, he thought.
"Urameshi, calm down. You don't need to make a scene," Kuwabara muttered half-heartedly, placing a steady hand on the shaking raven-haired youth's shoulder.
He too, was fighting an impulse to shove his foot so far up the doctor's dear old — eh, he wouldn't go there — but Yuusuke wasn't about to use any of his self control, and he knew that one of them had to. By process of forced elimination, that made it him, he guessed.
"Quite right," the doctor replied, a sheepish kind of smirk gracing his features. "Control yourself, or I shall have you escorted from the premises."
Yuusuke glared at him, loathing clearly radiating from his features, then turned and stomped back to his chair. He righted it with a stiff, jerky, my-anger-is-contained-but barely sort of movement, and collapsed back into it with a worn expression on his face. "Damn bastard anyways…," he mumbled.
The doctor fixed his ruffled coat collar with an indignant sort of 'humph' and strode to the receptionist who was watching the entire scene mildly amused.
"Miss Hasako, have you managed to contact Mr. Minamino's residence?"
"I've tried Dr. Masaha, but there came no response when I called," replied the young woman.
"Very well, we shall just have to wait, then." He nodded thoughtfully to himself.
"Did you ever consider that waiting could worsen this ordeal, Fool?" came a cold voice from behind him in venomous tones.
At the voice, he spun around in shock, turning to come face-to-face with an annoyed little black-haired man. Seeing the said man's size, he let out an involuntary chuckle. The tension all-but fell away from him, rippling from his muscles as smoothly as water from a stream.
"Think it's funny, do you?" snarled Hiei, misinterpreting the doctor's reason for laughing. "Well, we'll just see then, won't we?" There was a thin, mutinous smile on his face as he reached for the handle of his concealed katana.
"Oi. Hiei, don't," Yuusuke and Kuwabara yelled, running up to their short companion and grabbing him beneath the arms, dragging him back to the chairs where they sat. "Not now, we don't need it," they muttered.
Hiei 'hn'd.'
Loud echoing footsteps caught their attention and all of them turned expectantly, only to see a pale, frightened-looking, and out of breath Shiori dashing down the hallway towards them all.
"Doctor. Where's… My son…" she huffed, coming to a halt in front of them, not sparing so much as a glance towards the three other people present. They regarded her with curious eyes. Baffled.
"Ah," he smiled. "So you are Mr. Minamino's mother, I take it?"
She nodded, but there was something strained about the movement. Halting. Reluctant.
"Very good, very good." He clapped, then. "I'm afraid that before you can see him, there is some paperwork you must see to regarding his release and other such matters."
Her expression faltered. "But, I had hoped to see him…"
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
She nodded in understanding. "Of course…"
"Hey, Lady," came Yuusuke's voice, ever tactful. "How 'bout you tell this geezer over here—" he pointed sharply at Doctor Masaha, "—that we can see your son? We've been waiting forever over here."
For the first time since her arrival, she glanced towards him. The expression on her face was a mix of indignation, puzzlement, and weariness. "You… You're the boy who saved him…?"
Taken aback by the question it took a moment for him to answer. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Oh, dear God…" Her voice broke into stifled sobs, then. "Of course… Yes until… I can… You may… Go on…"
At her permission, Yuusuke beamed, shooting the doctor a victorious look, gaining a scowl of disapproval in return. Not letting himself be told twice, he retreated straight into his friend's room, followed closely by Kuwabara and Hiei. The door shut behind the three of them and none spared so much as a second glance back at the angry doctor, or the broken women in the hall behind them.
--
Mildly curious as to how I had ended up in this place, I resign myself to waiting until some better-informed person comes to call. Until then, I have to appease myself by finding amusement in my room. I do not have time, however, for within seconds my door opens and in step three of my friends. My attention turns to them. One part angry, one unawares, and one seemingly indifferent. How terribly predictable.
Hiei stands behind the others a way, and retreats to my window in a fluid movement and a fluttering of cloak. He directs his gaze to the street below, unable to meet my gaze, if not just studiously avoiding it. I can, perhaps, hazard a guess as to why. Best not to, though, knowing how he would react to the insinuation. Kuwabara and Yuusuke pull themselves into the empty visitor's chairs near my bed, all their eyes on me. Unsettling but bearable, at least. Now, if only Hiei would look my way.
Silence befalls us, and it is not the comfortable, companionable silence that should fall between us, between friends. It is the painful, accusatory silence; the one where things aren't said, for fear of causing pain to one another, but they are thought — spoken, if you will, in the silence. Through the silence. What do they say about silence being the loudest sound, after all?
I assume they have had something to say — anything — but it seems I am wrong. They merely sit, watching me. Like I am some sort of lunatic who, once they have removed their gazes for so much as a second, will fly at them, knife in hand. Hardly flattering. But, I have nothing to say, myself. I have no reason to speak. That chore falls to them, though they are neglecting it as well. So what am I to do but accept their cautious gazes?
"Well…" Yuusuke mutters after a few minutes silence, his voice weak and coarse.
"Hmm?" I reply mildly, my attention lingering only slightly on him.
"What'd you do it for?" he asks. All at once his voice rises. I can tell he is trying to stave off his anger towards me, only partially successful in his attempt.
I had, of course, expected the question. I wondered myself why I chose to do what I did; yet I could find no tangible reason, and still cannot. So I stay silent, a mild expression held on my features. An expression that after years of perfecting as Youko, I know can be taken to mean everything or nothing.
"Damn it, Kurama, why?!" he repeats heatedly.
He reaches into his pocket and draws from within it a small, sleek metal fragment; its natural silver sheen stained a dull, but inexorably vivid crimson. My eyes fall as I see it.
So, he took it, then?
A moment of calm, rational thought on my part reasons that it was surely to keep the people at the scene now from finding it, and from discovering my truth.
For taking it, I should thank him.
For shoving the inexcusable proof of my sin right under my nose again, I would rather throttle him.
Kuwabara almost chokes when he sees the razor, which I find odd. But in his defense, I suppose he had not known about it, either. So, I cannot be so unjustly surprised.
"No way…" he gapes, eyes lingering transfixed on the blade, as though he has never seen anything quite like it. Or, like a child in a candy shop, for lack of a better metaphor.
I close my eyes and turn from them, much as I am able in the hospital bed, and sigh; such a weary sound pulled from my very soul. An interrogation seems unavoidable at the present, yet I would still rather pretend that it did not have to occur. I simply am not in the mood for the idle questions.
"Kurama answer me, damn it!" Yuusuke yells.
I turn to him then, mostly in response to his anger and rising core temperature. I can feel the heat radiating off of him. Dangerous. Best to keep my eyes on him. By time he has my full attention, he has half-risen from his chair and made an advance towards me.
I am spared the need to defend myself by another's eloquent words, much more powerful than his own building fury.
"Touch him, Detective, and you will know pain," Hiei snarls coolly from the window. He has his hand on the hilt of his blade, almost casually. Almost.
I know better than to entirely think so. Hopefully, Yuusuke knows better, as well.
He has not made a move to stop Yuusuke. He has not even turned from the window. But his words are more than enough to stop Yuusuke dead in his tracks, and cause him to sink back into the chair with an exhausted sigh.
Apparently, he does.
Hiei's words speak worlds when he will not. It is a quality of his that makes him almost transparent, but not quite. I am grateful for it, and I am boundlessly thankful for his friendship. Or, whatever the bond between us is. I know he, at least, understands me, on some fundamental level.
"Why…" I mutter thoughtfully, in part a response to his prior inquiries. "I do not know, Yuusuke." I shrug, wincing at the tug of the IV as I move my arms. "My reasons are far from tangible, and you would not understand them, yourself."
Judging from the look on his face, I warrant it is not what he had wanted to hear. He glares openly at me, but says nothing. Smart of him.
"Now…" I stop, turning to glance towards them, sincerely looking at them for the first time since their arrival in my hospital room.
"Yeah?" Kuwabara asks.
"Now, it is time I had my questions answered."
Yuusuke looks startled, the anger momentarily gone from him in lieu of curiosity, but nods regardless; Kuwabara says nothing, as he is as ever unaware. I catch Hiei's eye. He knows what I am going to ask, I can see it. But he does nothing.
"How did you know where to find me?" I ask. Indeed, I do not understand how he had found me. I know he had. The kind doctors had filled me in on that much. But as to the specifics, I do not know.
"You told me you'd meet me and Keiko back at my place at five-thirty, remember?" Although it comes out as a question, I do not answer. I know he is not looking for me to. "When you didn't show up, I figured I'd come find ya. And, I checked your school 'cause you're always there. I was right, I guess." In an attempt to lighten the mood on his part, he shrugs. It is a wasted effort.
I nod; it makes sense. I had told him I would meet him, and then I hadn't. I am not one to normally break a promise. In hindsight, you might say that I am the type, because lying can in a sense be breaking a promise. But, there is a difference, to the well-educated mind, no matter how subtle.
"I see." Then, I voice my second question, which had been nagging me since I awoke here. "Why did you save me?" I try to hide the unease in my voice as I say it, but I cannot. The words taste foreign. Save me. Honestly, I never thought I would ever, ever utter those words in my life.
I see him bristle in anger again as my words register with him. Again, I suppose the question I asked is one he does not want to hear. "Kurama… You idiot…," he voices through gritted teeth.
"Why wouldn't he save you, man?" Kuwabara asks in Yuusuke's stead. I suppose he intends it as a rhetorical question, but I am far from in the mood to play along with his attempted philosophical inclinations. I am ready with my calm retort:
"I did not ask why he would not save me. I asked why he would. I still await an answer," I reply tiredly, the beginnings of fatigue falling over me.
And as suddenly as the realization of my bodily weariness hits home, and all at once, I find myself longing for sleep, deep and drugged. I want to lie back in the antiseptic-perfumed, hypo-allergenic pillows and drift away. But, I will not allow my body to take control over me. Humans and demons alike have higher brain function for a reason, and I shove the inclination to the back of my mind. Later I will let myself fall prey to my lower mentality. Right this moment, however, I have things to see to.
I hear Hiei chuckle from the window at my reply. He knew all-to-well it was coming. Yuusuke however, did not find it nearly as amusing. Though, I suppose Hiei's lingering threat keeps him from acting on his annoyance. Otherwise, I have no doubt that he would have jumped me already.
"Why?" he spits, disgust evident in his tone. "Why did I?" he repeats. He falls silent then, his eyes falling to his knees, because now he too, cannot meet my eyes. When he continues, I hear his voice turn soft, almost saddened. "I really thought you were smarter than that, man, I really did. Especially after all this time. I mean, two years may not be much. But it should' a been enough."
He falls silent, seeming reluctant to go on, so I hedge, "Yuusuke, I'm waiting."
This prompts a bitter laugh and a half-hearted shrug. "I dunno. I guess it doesn't mean much to you. I guess your only allegiance with us is this whole teamwork crap Koenma and Genkai preach about. I'd thought it would' a been more, but I guess you've just played me for a fool like the rest of us, ne?"
My gaze lingers on him steadily, waiting for him to continue, but he does not. His voice merely falters into silent weeping; I can smell the salt on the air, mingling with the bitter hospital smells. Not an entirely pleasant mixture.
Yuusuke crying? What a new development.
Kuwabara is looking almost dumbstruck at Yuusuke's curled in form, not believing that he has been reduced to tears. I do not blame him. Even I had not expected this show from Yuusuke. Anger? Yes. Violence? Yes. Hysterics? A definite possibility. But, crying?
Surprisingly, I do not blame him for his reaction.
Actually, Kuwabara himself has not said hardly more than two sentences since their arrival. Rude as it sounds, it actually makes me wonder why he even bothered to come in. But I suppose the same holds true for Hiei, and I do not wish him gone in the least.
"Yuusuke, you have yet to answer my question," I remind him shortly, growing tired of his display and his lack of tangible answers.
He turns to face me again; red streaks on his cheeks, a few tears trailing down them silently. His eyes are liquid as coffee itself, full of unspoken loathing and grief. They reflect such pain and such disbelief, like he cannot understand how I can even ask such answers of him at a time like this.
"Forget it man, forget it." He shakes his head roughly, his bangs spraying his face wildly. "If you don't already understand "why?" you're beyond my reach." He shrugs in what I think is supposed to be a noncommittal way and wipes dry his face, his tough-guy act back with a vengeance.
A gentle knock on my door catches my attention making me turn momentarily from Yuusuke. It is an all-to-familiar knock, and a pattern that I recognized at once. My mother's knock. Followed by her timid voice asking if she can please come in.
Yuusuke takes this chance to stand and heads to the door. Kuwabara follows silently after him, still shocked into silence at his best friend's behavior. Hiei turns to the door, but does not move from my window. He scowls openly at the door as the two boys exit and Shiori — my mother — enters.
"Oh, Shuichi!" my mother cries, hurrying to my side as soon as she can lay her warm, chocolate brown eyes upon me.
As she advances, Hiei steps between us, loathing etched deeply, almost painfully, into each of his sharp, striking features. She stops, wary.
"Hn." Woman, don't give me that acting crap," he spits, glaring at her.
She actually recoils at the words as he spits them, almost like they are truly as venomous as he makes them sound. I want to tell Hiei to stop, that this is my mother he is talking to, but the hurt of the past day is too fresh and keeps me from opening my mouth just yet.
"I know damn well that this is your doing. No matter how much your precious son denies it, and in spite of the lies he's force-fed the other buffoons, I know otherwise. I know the truth. It's your fault he's here. And now you rush in here, ready to accept him with open arms? Don't make me laugh. You're such fickle fools; you damn ningens. If anything, he should forgive you—"
"Hiei," I cut across him gently, my tone firm. "That is quite enough, thank you," I finally intone, my voice stern. If I do not stop him now I never will. Best nip it in the bud while I can.
As much as I appreciate the words, and find myself stunned by the sudden truth and gravity of them, not to mention his understanding of the situation, it is not his time nor place to say so.
"Hn." He shrugs, turning from my mother to me. For the first time since his arrival, he looks me in the eye. There is some distant emotion in the fiery depths of them, but I cannot place it. Before I can ponder it, he speaks, to the point as ever:
"I'll be seeing you later, Kurama. The Detective and the Oaf got to speak their share, and I'm still entitled to mine." He turns and darts from the room, my door shutting with a slam.
That was… abrupt.
And quite to the point, unsurprisingly.
"Mother, have a seat," I offer, motioning to the now empty chairs occupying my bedside, shaking aside Hiei's departure and turning to her.
She nods and sits, dissolving into tears as she does. She takes one of my hands in hers and brushes her thumb over it gently in soothing circles — more to soothe herself than me — as she tries to compose herself. I suppose she has some trouble, as all her eyes find to linger upon are the bandages wrapped firmly, almost painfully, about my left forearm, stained the most vivid crimson, and my right wrist, the bandages stained the self-same rustic red.
Blood lets the most beautiful blossoms bloom across white canvases, I muse after finding myself staring at the bandages in time with mother.
"Shuichi… I'm so sorry… I could've… l-lost you… I'm so… sorry…" she sobs, taking one of my hands in hers. She continues tracing her thumb over the top of my hand gently until she can regroup herself.
Before I can prepare myself for it, she stands up and pulls me into a tight embrace, her tears falling onto my shoulder undisturbed. I wince in pain as she presses against the I.V. shoved into the top of my hand, but pass off my pain as an exaggerated cough. Years in Makai and hundreds of hard lessons learned have made me an expert at hiding pain. In Makai, showing pain could mean the end of you. Showing pain here could mean the metaphorical end of her. Not really a pleasant alternative.
With some fidgeting and careful maneuvering on my part, I manage to put my arms around her fragile form. I stroke her hair reassuringly, whispering reassuring words into her hair until she can collect herself. Awkward as I am at showing such displays, it is the least I can do.
After a few minutes, she pulls away. Her eyes are red and swollen, her face tear-streaked. When she speaks, her voice is weak and coarse from the tears. "I'm so sorry… Shuichi… I, I love you… I always will… You are my son… I…" She cuts off, fighting for control over a fresh onslaught of tears.
I look at her thoughtfully and slowly, hesitantly, nod. There had been a time when I had believed her words, believed her. But, now I know otherwise.
"I know, Mother. I know…," I reply gently, my gaze dropping from her face. Because suddenly, I cannot meet her eyes.
"I'm sorry… I just—"
"There is no need to apologize, Mother," I sigh, reaching towards the table beside my bed.
I am grateful for the potted plant gracing my presence. I guess it is a small blessing that hospitals recognize the healing nature that plants can have on people, and therefore allow them inside hospital rooms. It is no small miracle. And, it shall make all of this much easier. I pluck a dandelion-like flower from its planter, careful not to damage the young shoot.
"Shuichi…?" Mother's voice is weak, and I can see some of the terror of the forgone night mirrored in her pale eyes as she watches me. Apparently, she has not gotten used to my ability to manipulate plants. That is no small wonder, either.
I ignore her and hold the flower to the light. Partially to examine it and to assure myself it is the proper genus for me to utilize, and partially so that she will not catch its silver glow as I turn it into something more useful for myself. I pull it back into the shadows and blow on it gently, watching as a cloud of faint golden pollen spores drift through the air and dance around my startled-looking mother on the nonexistent, metaphysical breeze. Soon, the spores will take effect; they have already begun to disperse, which means it will work.
Dream Flower Pollen has served me faithfully when the time came to wipe Kitajima, Maya of her memory of me, and now, is working just as steadily on mother. The pollen sends them into a dreamless slumber and wipes their memories of whatever I deem fit. When they wake, they will not remember anything. In this case, she will forget having seen me manifest my powers and casting me out of her life.
Of course, that changes very little. She will still know about my escapades with the blade and the ancient art of blood letting, as will the others; or at least Hiei will still know. Whether or not he actually told, or plans to tell, Yuusuke and Kuwabara the truth, I do not know.
She falls limp, resting against my shoulder as sleep takes hold of her. Quietly, I summon the plants to draw an empty chair to me, so that I may shift her into it. Once I do, the chair moves back into place and I disperse the plants, my eyes falling sadly on my mother's face, calm in the peace of sleep.
"It is best that you forget, Mother," I whisper softly. "Because, at least you can."
A wistful smile turns my lips up and I find myself staring unblinkingly, once again, at the bandages. "The others know and will not forget, and neither will I. Life will go on with a semblance of the normalcy it once possessed for you."
I drag my eyes from the bandages and force myself to look at mother. And, for the first time in years, I know they eyes I am forcing myself to regard her with are not filled with love, but disappointment, as I whisper, heavily:
"You will continue loving me unconditionally, never knowing that you have disowned me." A thin, tight smile plays at the corner of my lips.
"You are entitled to forget…"
However, for me, it is another story. I must live in the face of these lies. Live, knowing all-to-well what has happened in the past of which you will have no more memory once you wake.
For you, it shall be no more than a dream, one that shall pass with the new dawn.
For me, it is a living nightmare, and a hell from which I see no escape.
Again, blame befalls the karma boomerang…
But, such is life, and at least one of us can escape it.
Shame it isn't me…