********
Foreword
********
This chapter is somewhat dedicated to a
comatose drug addict. He was a
great
person, a great bandmate, and above all else, a great friend. The
world
was there to help him, but, like how all sob stories go, he pushed us
away.
Many angry words were exchanged, wounds were dealt that would never
go
away. I've known him for eleven years, ever since fourth grade. I told
him to
get the hell out of my face, to never talk to me again.
Now, I only hope he lives to his next
birthday.
Disclaimer:
Everything associated with Sailor Moon is in no way, shape, or
form
owned by me. I don't intend to make any money off of this; that's up
to the
larger than life corporations out there. All that jazz about Sailor
Moon in
tons of disclaimers out there apply.
email:
doniswong@hotmail.com
Rating:
R (cussing and illegal activities)
"Clean"
Chapter 5
A fanfic
by
Don
He's really down. Always gets this way
when he comes back to the
palace.
Can I really blame him? To travel all over the world, your hopes
leaping
at every stop, then, to have it dashed like a ruined painting...
That's gotta suck.
"Cheer up, furball," I say,
carefully sipping my coffee, "We'll find
her;
you'll see."
"Right..."
Without another word, he curls up around
his bowl of warm milk suddenly
very
interested in the contour of the porcelain.
What else can I say to cheer him up?
Absolutely nothing, that's what.
Minako
is a friend to all of us, but she and Artemis, they share a special
bond.
They're more than protege and teacher, mentor and charge: they're
family.
Ever since the beginning, ever since those days in old England,
they've
relied on each other for help and companionship.
Artemis to Sailor Venus is like Tom to
Jerry, Donald Duck to Mickey
Mouse,
Mamoru to Usagi - the unsung hero. Yes, I said unsung hero, but the
importance
is by no means demoted: losing one is like breaking the spine of
the
other.
I can relate to that... with all the close
calls over the years, I've
sometimes
wondered if Michiru and I would ever see each other again. And
you
know something? That's the worst feeling a person can ever go through.
Death
of a loved one, death of oneself - child's play compared to the
torture
of the mind. To not know, to not have closure, to stand in one
place
spinning around in circles speculating like a worried little nerd...
Yeah, I can relate to Artemis all too
well. I know how the butterflies
flutter
in his stomach, how every remote symbol of her sparks false hope,
how he
thinks but cannot say a word about her fate, how he plasters his
face
against the window waiting for a sign, any sign.
"I know," I whisper after
finding the bottom of my cup, "Hang in
there."
Raising his tear soaked eyes, he glares at
me with an expression
between
annoyance and gratitude. He appreciates my help, but then again, he
has no
use for my pity. Guess that's my cue to make a hasty exit, to give
him
some time to think, time to forget about the rat races.
Besides, all this thinking has lured my
thoughts back to Michiru; my
consciousness
no longer resides in this room.
"Night furball."
He only grunts in recognition.
Halfway down the hall and about fifty feet
from Michiru's office, I
hear
the loud thump of a window closing.
Eh, must've been the wind coming and
going.
**********
Everything is so quiet now, so calm and
serene. I wonder how my world
could
go from a topsy turvy spill to a rooted standstill. While the wounds
still
sear and burn, they're not as painful anymore, not as big of a deal.
It's
like a wild fire: having consumed all in its path, the only choice it
has is
to simmer away, slowly but surely dying out.
I have nothing more to give, nothing more
to burn. The ashes are all
that
remain, ashes of hate, love, deceit, innocence. All that I've ever
cared
about is gone, destroyed by four whole years of mistakes.
I can care no more. I've experienced life
to the fullest, everything
from
its highest mount to its lowest ocean floor...
In all of those places, I've tried to make
my mark known, tried to make
things
better for people, but again and again I always come back to the
question,
"What's this life for?" If I cannot make the world better, if I
cannot
be remembered, if I cannot even respect myself, why do I live?
That's right. I cannot live. That's why
everything is so quiet now, so
calm
and serene.
The only thing I hear is the hum of
absolute silence.
It's a nice change of pace the silence,
but when night falls, that's
when it
becomes unbearable.
I get so scared... so, so scared. Each
night when I fall into bed, I
lay
silently awake, staring at every moving object, every glow in the dark.
My eyes
dart between door and window, window and door, looking for an
excuse
to throw myself from under the sheets. Each night I find a reason -
be it
song of machine or yawn of self - to have my heart race like a little
hare.
I dare not close my eyes, tired or not.
Midday my body feels light,
limp;
midnight my nerves bristle with untold energy. Any second now, any
second
now, and I all but wait for a sign, an omen.
Feet squirming, hands sweating, mouth
drying, I hold myself down,
nailed
to the mattress with godly fortitude. Quiet, much too quiet - I can
hear
everything. Maybe that's the source of my fear: knowledge. No one
knows
what happens at night, but I do. I have caught the spirits at work to
their
evil, vile deeds. Lie around and the in-tune will hear of a
mind-grinding
sound not unlike that of nails on chalkboard; they'll hear
that
high pitched squeak which accompanies absolute silence.
Slow to succumb, I begin to twitch, first
a muscle then a limb. I
fidget,
squirm... squirm like a desperate animal in the clutches of its
hunter.
I can't take it anymore... no more!
Desperately gasping for breath, I throw
off the choking blanket and
back
into a corner. My head touches the wall leaving a sweaty imprint on
the
glistening paint.
The room is silent no more, its quietus
shattered by my spastic heart
and
ragged breathing. Ringing of solitary torture leaves me, hidden until
time
once again. Ghosts of night's death retreat, off to haunt another
unlucky
soul.
Tired... so tired, but sleep will not
come, be it mortal or immortal.
Quiet... and so scared...
Without thinking twice, I lumber to the
nightstand and reach out for
the
little orange bottle with my trembling hand. The rattle reminiscent of
a
child's toy beckons my ringing ears, beckons it with seductive chatter.
Slowly,
I twist the lid open and dump the contents into my dry mouth.
Every pill feels like a stone in my
throat. Every swallow tears at my
insides.
Every capsule dirties my soul.
Then, it all goes away. Everything. The
trembling. The squirming. The
sweating.
The fear. The weariness. Even the silence.
Is this what heaven feels like? Nothing,
and yet at the same time,
everything?
No one is here with me, but I don't feel
alone. There is no sound, but
the hum
of silence is no more. I like this. I like this so much I think I'm
going
to go outside under the Hong Kong skyline and see how alone I can be.
As I exit the majestic confines of the
hotel, I am assaulted by lights
of all
shapes and sizes. Blobs of neon signs contort and spin around me
like
planets. Noises from cars and foot traffic sound like heavy metal
songs,
fast and furious. People bumping into me grow shorter, smaller, less
important;
I tower over them like a giant. Meanwhile, my arms and legs
limber
up becoming as light as feathers; I feel so graceful I think I'm
swimming,
swimming in a sea of people.
I look down at these little men and laugh.
Pathetic, aren't they?
Actually
no, they aren't pathetic. If I - the one who is the oldest, the
most
powerful, the most intelligent, and the most experienced - think
myself
pathetic, what does that make them? I'm guess something below that.
So I laugh at them, watching them speed
away in their cars, watching
them
push and shove by. They fight the waves of time, trying to accumulate
enough
of this so called happiness. They want to die in a queen's gown,
surrounded
by family. None of them realize that they will die alone,
unloved,
forsaken.
It happened a thousand years ago. It
happened the thousand before that.
Their
pathetic lives will continue to loop around this vicious mental
cycle...
... as will mine.
But I have an edge. While their lives end,
mine doesn't. Death is
barred
from entering my doors; he sits outside, tending to everyone else
but me.
Meanwhile, I take comfort in not becoming worm food, because,
that's
all we are - worm food. I will never lie in ground, cold and quiet.
I will always elude what I was fated to
become. Quite an
accomplishment,
no?
People start to stare at me. Grown men
hustle by, sparing a boggled
look at
me. Women give me a wider berth, pulling their children aside and
away
while they try to tear their eyes off of me. The younger people? Some
laugh
along with me, others walk by unoffended and unflinching.
Only I know the humor of the situation.
It's a cruel joke only I know, one only I
can take pleasure in.
I laugh harder.
"What's so funny?" one of the
younger people ask, one of the unoffended
and
unflinching.
Amidst the barrage of people, planets,
noise, and laughter, I notice
the
young man rot before my eyes. His flesh falls away, slimy parasites
burrowing
their way through his eye sockets. Bone - brown and brittle -
sees
the light of day as his clothing atrophies into rags.
I look at my unblemished hand.
"What's so funny?!" the walking
corpse repeats.
I put my hand on his shoulder bone and
spit out through my hysterics,
"YOU!"
Unoffended and unflinching, he walks away.
The lights seem to darken now. The further
and further I walk, a veil
of
shadows falls faster and faster onto the land.
What time is it? Oh, what the hell; I lost
track of time.
Shouldn't I be asleep right now? What is
this? Since when did I set a
bedtime
for myself?!
I'm scared. Oh grow up!
This is only a dark, lampless street
populated by corpses... bony,
sickening,
brownish corpses... and deadly... frightening...
... silence...
So alone all of a sudden - the bad kind of
alone. My legs automatically
give
way to flight, blazing down alleys of an undertaker's heaven.
Everything
is unmoving, scaring me to new heights. I know I shouldn't be
alone,
last I checked Hong Kong was suffering from over-population. What is
this
feeling in me?! I don't want it!!!
Oh my God! I felt something on my arm!
Rolling up my sleeves, I catch
sight
of a worm crawling through my flesh. It snakes up to my shoulder and
rappels
down my spine, caressing it with its slimy stomach. And there! On
my
other arm! More and more of them appear out of nowhere, slithering
through
my body!
In desperation, I slam myself against a
wall. No good, they're still
there.
A chill strikes me. By natural reaction I
curl up into a ball, trying
to keep
warm. My breath freezes just as it leaves my mouth; I can reach up
and
crack the icicles forming on my lips. Still the worms persist, never
leaving
me.
I look down at my rotting hand and scream.
All around me... things all over me!!!
So cold... so dirty... so scared...
Suddenly, I fall and tumble down a steep
incline. When I stop, I feel
no
pain, only that slithering feeling. I yield to the sensation and sit
there,
huddled up in a ball, tears falling onto my palms.
I tell myself I don't need them. I don't
need those pills. I'm only
this
way because I'm depressed. Surely depressed people feel sick to their
stomach,
cold to the touch, and jumpy. Right? Yes, of course...
"Minako?"
Abruptly, I whip my head about, eyes still
seeing all darkness... all
darkness
but a single, illuminating point.
"Minako?"
That voice! It's so familiar yet so far
off. It tugs at my heartstrings
and
blares at my mind. It drips with concern, uncertainty, and above all
else,
fear.
I hear a set of claws on gravel. The
illuminating dot moves downward,
closer
to me. The slight pitter patter of feline feet echo right next to me
as the
voice tenderly repeats, "Minako? Are you alright?"
I weakly smile to myself.
"Furball..."
**********
W... Wha...? Where am I?
Carefully, I try to sit up but stabbing
pain overcomes me. It's like a
thousand
needles stuck onto you, like an acupuncture job gone bad. I grunt
at the
sudden realization and fall back onto the... the... bed?
"Mina? Are you awake?"
Am I awake? Yes. Am I glad to be awake?
"No."
A little paw comes screaming into my face,
its fur making me sneeze.
Immediately,
I begin running through the scenarios in my head.
Artemis is definitely here, but are the
others?
I could be in Crystal Tokyo surrounded by
my group of "friends..."
I could still be in Hong Kong, detained
and chained by them...
Or it could just be Artemis and... and...
What better way to find out than to open
my eyes? One by one, I peel
them
open, a hazy film blinding them. For now, all I see are blobs of white
and
yellow, the white blob moving slightly on its own accord. A blanket
covers
me while a familiar weight rests upon my chest. Damn, why is it so
cold?
"Can you hear-"
"YES," I scream, the volume of
my bellow inducing a massive headache.
For the next five minutes, everything is
quiet except for my moans and
groans.
It hurts - my heart, my arms, my legs, hell, my whole body - but
the
greatest pain comes from the soul, from the anticipation of the moment.
What am
I going to tell him? What am my going to tell them?
Unconsciously, I reach over to the
nightstand.
"Looking for these?" asks
Artemis, his arms saddling my orange medicine
bottle.
I blink a few more times, enough to fully
focus myself on the situation
at
hand. "Yeah," I mutter groggily, "Now give..."
Instead of handing it over, the little
twerp leaps to the floor with
feline
quickness. I follow, hauling my carcass off the bed. My legs give
out
though, and I promptly kiss the carpeted floor of my hotel room.
"How the hell did I get back
here?"
There's a sigh from some random direction.
"You walked back here," he
replies,
"You CARRIED me back here! Don't you remember?!"
Really? Interesting. "No. Now go away
and give me my pills."
"Not until you tell me what they're
for."
"They're for my headache," I
spit at the no-good piece of shit cat,
"Hand
them over!"
"No."
I isolate the sound - it's to my left -
and get up, still staggering a
bit. I
brush off the pain and sprint his way, aiming to haul him up by his
throat.
No one - and I mean NO ONE - says no to me!
Wait a minute - where'd he go? I fly into
the wall, smashing my middle
and
index fingers, making a sizeable hole. Ah ha! Over there by the TV!
With
another leap I snag, his fuzzy little tail.
"GOTCHA!"
He struggles under my grasp but soon gives
up. Furball knows he won't
get
away from me even if he tried. I expect a rattle my way - oh that
heavenly
rattle - but it never comes. I open my eyes and see his white
behind
sticking in my direction. He is motionless, still.
Getting up from the floor, I circle around
to the front and bend down
to my
knees. He gazes at me with reddened eyes - agitated from strain and
stress
- and a pitiful face.
"I said 'Gotcha.' This is the part
when you give up the goods."
Something slides down his furry checks;
looks like tears. Removing his
stare,
he curls into a ball and starts crying like a baby. Hmph, would you
look at
that - a cat crying like a spoiled little brat.
Damnedest sight if I say so myself. If
he's going to be this stubborn,
I might
as well crack him open like a walnut: I'm getting pissed off at his
antics.
Before I bring my fist down on him, he
pathetically whimpers, "Why?"
Why? Why what? Why did I leave him? Why
did I leave Crystal Tokyo? Why
am I
going to beat the living daylights out of him if he doesn't ease up?
Why
what?
I'll assume it's why I left Crystal Tokyo;
maybe that'll shut his
watering
hole. Probably the million dollar question anyway. "Because THEY
make me
sick-"
"No, no, no!!!"
Huh? With determined, somewhat saddened,
eyes, the white blob recovers
from
his fetal position and props himself up on all fours.
"Why are you doing this to
yourself?" he hisses, pointing at the goods,
"I
could care less about what you think of me, the Senshi, and the world!
For all
I care, you could hate us for our very existence! What I want to
know is
why... Why are you fucking yourself over for some cheap high?!"
Because furball, "It makes me feel
good. Makes me feel wanted." I yank
him up
by the scruff of his neck and spit, "It's more than I can say for
the
likes of you!"
"What did I do?!"
"What DIDN'T you do is more like
it!"
My eye starts twitching in one of those
bad ways. First there, then my
leg.
No, it's not one of those quivering, earthquake sensations, more along
the
lines of a minute muscle spasm that just won't go away. I ignore them
for
now; there's a certain cat I need to deal with beforehand.
"Did you ever stop to think about
me?" I ask, "My opinion, my
happiness,
MY SELF meant nothing to you! I worked myself to the bone,
worked
myself dead to please that girl you call queen! I gave my life to
that
city-"
Damn!!! A bout of dizziness blind sides
me, dropping both myself and
Artemis
to the floor. The twitching only gets worse...
"... when... when will it be my
time?" I gaze at my cat with all the
fury I
can muster up. "It'll never be my time. That's why," with a point at
the
pills, "a girl's got to dream... seems real enough..."
"You're killing yourself!"
"I'd rather kill myself than live a
hollow life!"
It hurts again... My stomach is tying
itself in knots. Can't see
straight
anymore; so cold, I can't even feel the tips of my fingers. I let
a tear
or two slide by, and no, it's not because I feel sorry or guilty -
my legs
are cramped like the dickens. Add that to my vertigo and well...
you get
the picture.
Just one... just one of them and it'll all
go away...
Another frantic scramble later, I hear the
bottle roll under the bed,
courtesy
of that no-good-piece-of-shit. "Just give it up," I say, nearly
begging,
"At least let me die thinking I'm happy... It's all I have
left..."
He shakes his head in anger. "All you
have left?"
It's true, so I nod.
"What about me?! You're saying that's
all you have left! Oh-la-di-da
Minako!
What about me?! Forget all I have left! YOU," he shouts, leaping
onto my
chest, "are all I EVER had!"
Liar! I swear, I won't listen to his
desperate gibberish! He's trying
to make
me feel-
"Think about it you selfish junkie!
My life revolves around you! You
get the
glory, the freedom, the desire to do whatever you want! Me? Oh, I'm
in
charged of playing babysitter! That's all I've ever done and all I ever
will
know how to do!"
NO! Lies, all lies!!! "You're trying
to make me feel guilty!"
"As I should! No matter how much you
want to deny it, other people
depend
on you. If you're so dense you can't see that, then go on." He
strolls
over to the bed and points under it. "Kill yourself! You don't
deserve
to live! Being selfish is not a crime, but destroying other
people's
lives is! Come on! Die like the pathetic sap you are! The Minako I
love
died the night she ran away...
... I don't know what kind of sick trash
sits in front of me."
That sniveling, fast-talking,
manipulative- "Don't patronize me,
Artemis!
Don't say you 'love' me! No one in the world ever did! They want
to use
me, use my mind, my body, my soul. You - and that evil queen,
Serenity
- are no exceptions!"
No exceptions... NONE OF THEM ARE!!! They
aren't friends; no one is my
friend.
My only friend sits in a plastic bottle under the bed, rattling...
rattling
like a snake. Yes, my friend can cure me, comfort me like no one
else
can. My friend can get rid of these shakes, this cold, the hate, my
life.
Muttering some dark phrases I couldn't
understand, the cat saunters
away
from me and heads to the door. "Bitter, selfish ingrate," he whispers
with a
dangerous edge, "I went all over the world for you. Night and day I
sat by
the window, wishing to everything held sacred that you were ok. I
came to
Hong Kong as a goddamn stowaway! I cared for you, Minako; the
Senshi
cared for you too. What could possibly change that except for your
own
stupidity?!"
"My 'stupidity' is my
salvation!"
"If you're so holy, why don't you
tell that to God? Go on! Tell him how
you ran
out on your friends! Tell him how you became a slithering coward
who
sought comfort in some drug! Tell him how your friends care for you and
how you
hate them! Tell him how you broke the soul of the being who cared
for you
more than his own life!"
Stupid cat, he knows and he's mocking me!
"You know I'm not going to
see
God."
"Yeah," he nods, "That's
because you're a selfish glutton-"
I'll finish that statement for you!
"Because I'm a selfish glutton who
kills,
right? A damned murderer who could've saved the world but didn't,
right?!
A spineless, cowardly, dense whore who went along with the crowd
and
doomed herself, right?!"
His eyes widen to epic proportions. His
jaw drops to the floor. If you
ask me,
he can stop the act now. He totally...
**********
... wasn't expecting this.
Calming my fried nerves, I manage to
squeak out a hurried, "What?"
The day has already been a barrel of ups
and downs. I don't think my
poor
little brain can take much more of this... madness. Might be the drugs
talking
and I prefer to keep myself thinking it's only that.
"You need help, Minako." Yeah,
some professional help. Whatever she's
been
doing for these few years has knocked more than a few screws loose.
Maybe I should leave; coming here was a
mistake. For once, I genuinely
wish
Haruka was with me; at least I wouldn't have these long silences to
deal
with. Coming down to reality is hard, but I've got admit it - this
Minako
doesn't want me around anymore.
"Bye," I gently sigh while
turning around, "I'll leave you alone... for
good."
I'll be getting up from the roulette table
now, with me a barrel of
good
memories and ship-load of bad ones. Is this what closure feels like?
If it
is, closure sucks. Whatever psyche-major thought that having a friend
kick
you in the crotch felt good must've been some kind of sick
masochist...
or on whatever drugs Minako is on.
After giving her a "This one's for
the road" look, I pull open the door
and
step out of her life forev-
"Wait," she begs, "don't
go..."
Geez, please don't say that. Please just
let me go! I can't stand being
this
room for another second!
But my charge beckons me... and I can
never say no to her no matter how
stupid
she sounds.
Decisions, decisions, and a terrible
palette of choices too. What's a
talking
cat to do?
Huddling up into a ball, she buries her
face in her arms and mumbles,
"Stay
just a little longer... please?"
My legs move by themselves, plopping right
in front of her. On closer
inspection,
I see some fairly disturbing symptoms show up on her, stuff
like
pale lips, uncontrollable shivering, and strange eye coloring. How
long
has she been doing this stuff?
Too late to consider skipping out - I've
committed myself to keep her
company...
which wouldn't have been so bad if I knew her mood didn't go
from
zero to homicidal in 2.2 seconds. I don't think my poor little heart
can
take much more excitement.
Excitement which I know will inevitably
come.
I'm sitting in a room with a Sailor Senshi
in withdrawal: the situation
can't
get anymore volatile. I only hope that she gets her marbles together
and
starts talking rationally. Then, she can go back to the palace with me.
This
time, I might not even have to be a stowaway on a cargo ship;
certainly
don't want that ever again, the ride to Hong Kong was atrocious.
Like any good pet, I leap onto her
shoulder and scrunch up against her
neck.
Provides warmth and comfort, two things I know she lacks and needs.
For
now, I forget about those previous, hallucinatory yet disturbing
moments;
afterall, that's all they are, right? Hallucinations and
illusions.
She'll sound happier and more reasonable
when whatever in her has
worked
its way out... I hope.
Silently, I observe her through the corner
of my eye. Amidst the
barrage
of shakes and sighs, a faint smile cracks across her face, a
nostalgic
smile. Can't help but give a toothy grin myself as I think back
to all
the times we've shared together. At least, that's what I think the
smiles
are for - the good memories.
Chuckling, I playfully nudge Minako with
my paw, getting her attention.
"Remember
all that fun we had when we were in England?" I ask, stifling
some
giggles, "Those were the days, ne?"
"Hai," she replies, a wistful
look dawning on her pale face, "When the
days
were busy and the nights were filled with crooks and youma - I
remember
that like it was yesterday..."
"We made the perfect team!"
"We were the dynamite ditzes!"
At the realization of her misquote, she
breaks out in laughter. I
remember
when she used to get those wrong all the time... Guess some habits
die
hard. "You know," I mention, "It's dynamic duo."
"Baka," she says, pulling on my
whiskers, "Of course I know!"
The uneasiness rises from our shoulders, a
sort of mutual friendliness
remerging.
Perhaps this is part of her mood swings, but it is, nonetheless,
a
welcome change of pace. She reminds me of the person I want to see, of
the
person I came here to find. She has opened up to me once again, and now
is time
to take advantage of that.
I want her back. Everyone does.
If it takes my support to secure her
return, then she's got it.
Afterall,
what else are friends for?
"So... want to talk about it?"
**********
"So... want to talk about it?"
"Promise you won't take it too
hard?" I ask, more for my sake than his.
He ogles me suspiciously but relents.
Good, I need someone to talk
to...
anybody. But Artemis? I don't know how smart that choice is, but who
else am
I going find to have a heart-to-heart talk with? Who else is
willing
to help me with my problems?
Only choice in a cramped situation. I need
all this out of me, out of
me now!
The furball said he cared for me more than
his life: let's hope he
delivers.
I think about it, about my four and a half
years of life, about all the
change
that's been happening. I left because of guilt, I hated because of
anger,
I loved because of innocence, and I ran because of pain. Everywhere
I go,
pain follows... either pain or cavalier stupidity which eventually
leads
to pain. I have no place, no home.
I have nothing, but yet, I want to talk
about everything.
So hard to put into words but I'll give it
a try.
"Artemis, do you know what it feels
like to kill?"
A shudder erupts from his body. "No,
and I'm glad!"
Really? Maybe I should enlighten him.
"You feel so powerful when you have
another person's life utterly in
your
hands. As he turns and gazes into your eyes for one last time, there's
a sense
of God that flows through you, a sense of-"
"I get the picture," he rudely
interrupts, "You-"
"Hey! Just let me finish, ok?!"
That shut him up real nice. Alright, where
was I?
Ahhh, now I remember. "You get a
sense of superiority and omnipotence.
And
then... then it all goes away when the life disappears. You don't feel
godly
anymore, you feel dirty and wrong. You finally realize that the price
for
that ultimate, God-like emotion is eternal guilt and damnation. Then,
you
have two choices: seek the thrill again or be thrown into despair."
A sickened expression accompanies my
words. Artemis nearly doubles over
with
disgust. "What... in... hell... DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH YOU?!"
"Don't you see?" My God, he is
blind and stupid! "That tension between
ecstasy
and damnation is my life! It's the lives of those around me!"
A long pause, then, "How?"
I throw up my hands in exasperation,
thereby launching the white
furball
off my shoulder. I wait for him to gather his bearings before going
on.
He needs to hear this. ALL of this.
Wisely, I close my eyes so his unwavering
gaze won't disturb my
thoughts.
"Back... back in Tokyo..." Damn! Drudging up more unwanted
memories!
"There was war; somehow, even though I was scared and sick, I
never
felt more at home than on a corpse ridden battlefield. I had a sense
of...
of..." What was it? Self-worth? "... of accomplishment. I didn't like
it, but
I belonged. I didn't like where I belonged-"
"So you left?"
No... though now I wish it was. Less
problems that way. "No. I stayed,
but it
was after the Purging that I decided to go. I felt so dirty after
that..."
Artemis puts his paws over his head and
groans, apparently something in
him
stirring to life. "I've been down this road before," he laments,
"and
every
time it's the same..."
I twitch a little, my mind blaring at me
to close off my ears so I
won't
hear his false words. I want to comply, but curiosity allows me to
remain
open. After a moment's hesitation, "Go on..."
"You did what you had to do."
"Says who?!"
"Says me!" We glare at each
other, unsaid words of hostility brewing
like
they were housed in a witch's cauldron. "You never knew the
consequences
of your actions! Yes, I admit it was a mistake, but under the
circumstances,
what else could you do?!"
"We had other choices!"
"Like what? Huh, Minako, tell me:
like what? People were battering down
the
doors, our own troops were turning traitor, and we had a city to
defend!
I don't know if you remember, but a little issue called
self-preservation
was a big deal at the time!"
Fool! "We don't deserve to live - let
alone rule - if we're no better
than
our enemies! We killed everyone! Till years on end, walking corpses
will
litter the streets of Crystal Tokyo because of what we did in our
selfish
grab for power!"
"No, we're better than our
enemies..."
And
just how, praytell?
Anticipating my question, he launches into
the response. "Minako, we
can
learn from our mistakes. When there is a will, there is a way. The will
to do
good is there-"
Like hell it is!
"- and we will find a way."
"And whose words were those, Artemis? It definitely didn't come
from
the
power hungry mongrels I used to know!"
"Don't hate them for what they did.
You were part of it, you of all
people
should understand the reasoning behind the actions! Have faith in
your
friends - they will finish what they started and make everything
right..."
I don't believe him. I don't believe his
story. I don't believe the
Senshi
have the desire to correct their error. I don't believe he knows how
it
feels to have agonizing screams of dead men haunting your dreams.
I don't
believe that they are my friends... not anymore.
"Get out," I mutter under my
breath.
"What?!"
I said, "Get out!"
The cat doesn't know anything! If he did,
he would feel my pain and at
the
very least try to rectify the wrongs! He would see the tension of death
in my
life, how I separate myself from those bloodied whores with my pain.
They
kill and they don't know; they continue like nothing happened. I
wouldn't
mind so much if they proceeded down their road of damnation, but
to
kidnap me along with them?
I am this way because of them.
No friend would treat another friend this
way. No friend would drag
another
friend down their path of darkness.
I won't hear anymore! I can't stand it!!!
"You're in denial, Minako."
"I am not!"
A sudden, absolutely confident edge graces
his voice. "You ARE in
denial!
This isn't about pain or guilt: this is about your selfish desire
to push
all the blame away!"
"Who can blame me?! I'm another
victim!"
Lies! All of him just lies!
"You can't live with the knowledge of
your deeds - I'll give you that -
but
what makes it even worse is you can't accept that people can change,
people
can go back and correct mistakes! You don't want to hear about the
present:
you want the past because it's comfortable hating your friends!
Blaming
is so much easier than forgiving!"
"And I blame for a good reason!"
"NO! You blame because you are a
damned coward! You of all people
should
know that blaming does nothing! If your life is so bad because of
them,
why don't you tell them yourself?!"
.............
"No response, eh?" He walks up
to my slumped figure and pierces through
me with
his steely eyes. I shiver at the sensation. "You don't have the
courage
to tell them. You're afraid they'll change and then you'll have to
love
them again. You're afraid of having them for your friends, for your
family!
Just stop being stupid; wake up and smell the roses! The world is
here to
help you, but you're pushing us away."
I... I... "I don't want your
help."
"But your every action screams for
help! You may not want it, but you
sure
need it." Hopping a tad closer, Artemis puts a paw on my leg in an
attempt
to comfort me. "Come back and we'll make it right. Change comes
from
one foolish heart, and believe me, they'll listen to your foolish
heart."
"They... they'll listen?"
"Hai," he nods, "They still
love you, love you like a sister. Like I
said,
what they think of you will never change unless you change it for
them..."
Friends... Family... They've been that to
me for so long, but can I go
back?
Should I risk the pain of going back for the comfort it might bring?
Should
I stay where I am? Should I even believe Artemis?
It sounds so tempting and alluring and
somehow - some twisted way -
right.
I feel like I owe them that much: a chance at redemption in my eyes.
But
like always, there are complications - many complications. I still hate
them,
hate them so very much for the hurt they caused me, but like Artemis
said,
am I the one at fault or are they?
I've thought one way so long, but now, I
don't know if I was right.
Before
today, everything was clear: I was right, they were wrong. Why do I
have a
change of heart? Really, I don't know. How come I can I hate them so
one
minute then the next question myself? The furball has something to do
with
it; I guess it's the impact of having somebody from the past catch up
to you.
He... he... doesn't seem to have changed very much, and in truth,
that
scares me.
It scares me because it says I might have
been wrong. It scares me
because
it says I might have been the one who changed.
Is there another layer all of this? Is
there a reason for me to go
back?
Do I want to?
Wherever I go, my world turns upside down.
Are they the answer? Am I
suppose
to confront what I've been eluding? Many people have found closure
and
peace by facing their worst nightmare...
...
but then, how many more have been crushed under the nightmare's
weight?
Am I going to return, finding not a thing
touched, no actions taken?
A part of me screams for validation, but
another part screams for
companionship.
I've had years alone to think, but I have no answers. I've
had
years to be alone, and when I was truly alone, I hated it. I need
something
to hold on to...
And now I wonder if I foolishly threw it
away along my trip of life.
"Give them a chance," he begs,
"At least for me?"
"Maybe," I say,
"Maybe..."
***********
The thunder of waves crashing against the
ocean sound are drowned by
modern
life. Noise pollution disrupts most thoughts, droning on and on like
the
Volga Boat Song, making the inhabitants toil to a set beat.
She doesn't seem to care though; if
anything, she welcomes the noise. I
see it
in the way she reaches out to the waves, grinning from ear to ear.
Part of
me wonders why, but I don't care anymore; the results are what
count. Maybe
for once, she feels somewhat relieved; afterall, I gave her a
chance
at redemption.
Well, not really a chance, more like a
push.
But isn't that what friends are for?
"Minako," I ask gazing at her in
all seriousness, "Did you really mean
what
you said back there?"
Sighing, she absent-mindedly pets me on
the head, trying to avoid the
question.
In all honesty, I really don't want to know, but it bothers me,
enough
to rattle my cage. Guess this is another one of those "curiosity
killed
the cat" scenarios except the cat hasn't been killed yet... and I
much
rather it remain that way.
"Maybe," she replies, "It's
so clear and at the same time so
confusing...
I don't know what to say to you and them."
"That part about being a spineless,
cowardly, dense whore-"
"Yeah? What about it?"
I cutely nudge her in the stomach with my
head. "It's not true."
A sad smile comes across her face.
"Thanks furball."
We sit around the docks for a while,
passing the time by, not thinking
of
anything in particular. As the sun moves off into the horizon, it covers
the
entire Hong Kong island in red. A cool breeze blows by, accompanying
the
dawning night in perfect harmony.
Shivering from the slight cold, I huddle
closer to Minako for the body
heat.
"Are you ready?"
She looks at me with the weirdest
expression. "Ready for what?"
"To go back to Tokyo with me. What?
You think I'm going to hitch a ride
in some
cramped package again?"
Silence.
Setting me down, she turns her back and
says, "I'm not going back."
"Yes you are!"
"No I'm not," she gently rebuts.
"I'll go back when I'm ready..."
And, ahem, "When exactly is
ready?"
"When I'm at peace with myself...
real peace, not momentary bravery."
But that still begs the question,
"And when will that be?"
"When I know what to tell them and
what to tell myself."
So all my efforts are for naught? I've put
my heart and soul on the
line
only to come up with a pathetic "Maybe"?! What else does she want?!
What
else can't she see?!
"Stop being such a moron!" I
shout at the top of my lungs, "You won't
accomplish
anything by running! Haven't you learned that lesson after
living
a life of nothingness for almost five years?! Take a hint: you're
wasting
away and I'm trying to help you stop doing that!"
She steps away from me and nods sadly. She
knows I'm right and she's
wrong,
she just has to. I won't let her throw her life away, not again. One
of
these days, no one is going to be there for her and she's going to kill
herself
in every way possible: that's just how she is.
Minako, for better or for worse, is a
slave to her heart.
***********
He's right. I have nothing else to say to
him that'll seem reasonable.
The
only reason why I'm not going back is because of a gut feeling, an
unexplainable
repulsion. I need to know myself, I need to know the
unknowable
before I can have peace.
I'm one of those stupid people. I'm one of
those idiots who rather be
informed
than happy. What's the use of happiness if it is fake? But then
again,
what's the use of knowledge if it comes at the cost of happiness?
We all die; whether we die knowing or not
shouldn't matter...
But for me, it does.
I... I... I guess it's, "Goodbye
Artemis."
"Minako," he growls menacingly,
"Don't you dare run away from me."
Sorry furball... I really, truly, and
always will be, "Sorry." You're
the
only person to ever ask if I was alright. You're the only person to
ever
care.
"I'm sorry for all those things I
said back there. Please," I beg,
tears
free-flowing from my eyes, "Don't make this harder than it already
is."
I stuff my hands into my jacket pocket,
turn away, and walk. He stays
where
he is.
"Fine!" he screams, "FINE! Just remember, Minako,
don't blame them!
Don't
blame me! They did nothing wrong: you're the one who painted it that
way! If
you're going to hate them, break away! Take a thousand years of
existence,
spit on it, and shove it back in their faces! Don't stir up the
ranks!
If you're going to be a damned fool, get a clean break so when you
die,
your blood won't be on their hands!"
I continue farther and farther away. His
voice grows dimmer, but every
word
still hurts. Every word burns and maims like acid that just won't go
away.
At least I know I have something to live
for; I know that because I can
still
be hurt. The wild fire of these past years hasn't destroyed
everything.
"Do you hear me?! Go away! Get out of
our lives! If you think the world
sucks
this much, go die! And when you do breath your last breath, know that
you did
it to yourself, not me!!! No... not me..."
So far away now; I can barely hear. Think
he's stopped yelling by
now...
think he's had enough... The only thing I can make out at this
distance
is a bunch of sobs - tear-jerking, heart-wrenching sobs. I want to
go
back. I want to make him know how I feel. I want to make him
understand...
But then, this wouldn't be a clean break.
Something rattles around in my jacket
pocket - didn't even realize it
was
there till now. I take it out and see, see it's a little orange
bottle
with two white pills inside. What I wouldn't give for that sensation
right
now. What I wouldn't give to forget all this pain in one swallow.
What I
wouldn't give to drown out Artemis' sorrow.
What I wouldn't give indeed...
With a swift throw, I launch the rattling
snake into the sea, down into
the
thundering waves below. I know what I wouldn't give for that feeling:
My heart.
It's time to wake from my quiet slumber.
**************
Author's
Notes
**************
Friends will be friends. No matter what we
say to each other, deep down
inside,
we always will care. Sometimes, it takes a life threatening
situation
to see how many friends a person has. However, after seeing what
I've
seen, I'd never want to have all my friends crying in a room talking
about
the "good old days." I'd rather have them care and not say a word
about
it. Being hung between life and death is never fun... even if your
friends
are with you.
12/00
-Don.
