My Suicide My Pain
Chapter 6: What, Crawford?
Believe it or not, I haven't got an idea how to start this idiotic detective business. Just fucking believe it. Somehow my mind screwed my telepathy that one day when I opened my eyes to the world like a newborn baby and the world naughtily screamed at me, the usual voices amplified one hundred times, and seeming to throw in too much treble and less bass. It's not my fault that my head isn't Dolby-surround!
I have found too much information in the internet, but the whole of it didn't mix my exaggerated confidence in solving the matter. And another thing, why would I damnedly help some old psychologist? Would I gain something positive from it? Obviously nothing, however, the buried memory in my head which I saw just yesterday bothered me. If I had that memory, surely, I had something to do with it, or I was involved at least. Rational enough, but not entirely convincing. My telepathy short circuited with my emotions that sometimes memories that entered me were buried permanently in my subconscious.
I sighed resoundingly, and stood up from the couch to get a bottle of beer. Argh, my house was totally uncomfortable. I was more at ease in a darkened room, with lots of skin... and lots of targets. Yeah... Might as well be going tonight...
I rubbed my temple irritatedly and walked lazily to the kitchen. Fortunately, I had drawn my shields up before anything drastic could have occurred to my poor telepathic mind. This was not really my day... I sighed.
Opening the fridge, three almost empty shelves greeted me. The only contents of the damned refrigerator were the beers in the chiller. It's not my fault that I'm not a house person, or an introvert. Opening the can hastily, I drank half of the contents without a pause, then, slamming the can on the kitchen table, I hauled myself on a chair near me.
Oh damn... why is boredom torture? Suddenly the phone rang, which startled me. I literally jumped from my chair upon hearing the phone, but anyway, I lifted the receiver from the cradle. I ran a finger on my temple. Hard.
"Schuldig," I said, eating my voice.
"Schuldig," A very whispery, soft voice echoed and I sighed, rolling my eyes. I surveyed the people outside my house telepathically, but it radiated nothing of the call, but only a slight throbbing in my head.
"Whaddya want?" I turned on the small kitchen TV, flipping the channels to search for a decent show. Waiting for the reply of the caller, I watched the discovery channel where it was discussing extreme engineering and building a bridge around the world.
"What do I want?" the whispery voice retorted and a slight noise interrupted
the communication. Hastily turning down the volume, I recognized the noise as some sort of rubbing into bushes.
Bushes. Deja vu.
/I stood up, but in the corner of my eyes I never failed to see the rustle of the bushes on the corner, eventually stopping. Without warning, a pair of large brown eyes appeared from the dark. Dark brown hair, too./
Before I was able to even say another word, the noise dispersed, and the
voice returned, now more familiar than ever. "What do I want? I want you, Schuldig."
"Nagi Naoe," as soon as the other paused, I took in my show. Mr. Hoffman remained in the pits of my mind, as well as my headache. I stared at the number on the phone screen, and memorized it. It was going to be beneficial for me some time, also to find out who Naoe Nagi really is.
"Do you need me as well, Schuldig?"
"I need you to tell me why you have been stalking me for the past few days," I snapped, shutting the television finally off. The look of people awed by a structure seemed to ignite fury in my blood more, intensifying the annoyance, and unfortunately, the throb in my head brought by this Naoe kid.
"Didn't you hear me? I want you... and your time," a deafening pause. "Do you need me?"
"Why should I need you? I have nothing to do with your fucking life!" My grip on the phone hardened, I gritted my teeth as not to lose control. This was positively annoying. I didn't even know what to do next; yell or slam the phone down.
Suddenly the whisper became normal in tone, causing a shiver to run up the length of my arm. Naoe's voice was deep, very mature, indifferent and... where had I heard that kind of voice before? There just seemed to be a thing that was buried in Naoe's expression of his vocal cords. Something terrifying; like he knew something I didn't. "Mr. Hoffman. You have to find out what's in your head," There was a pause and a slight noise in the background. Naoe's voice became faint and whispery again, for some reasons.
"You need me for that, Schuldig I -"
A busy tone. The fucking kid hung up with me, when things finally got interesting.
"He knew Mr. Hoffman... and me," I propped my chin on my palm and thought about it. It made no sense. If he knew Mr. Hoffman, then definitely, or probably, my invasion in his head days ago caused the memories to onslaught me. But again, it didn't make sense. If he had caused something in my mind, I should've seen it before he had done it. Or, perhaps, he was a telepath too?
Oh damn, damned thinking, made my head swirl, and caused a major earthquake inside... Poor brain, poor me, swirling in the uncanny cause and effect of life, but getting stuck in the fucking effect and never going back to the cause...
"Oh wow... the power of schizophrenia," I muttered, bland of humor, and went back to my beer. Picking up my cell phone, I dialled Manx's number.
"Yes, Schuldig?" Manx answered, sounding bored.
"Oh what the fuck, did I permanently got kicked off from the hospital and now you're disrespecting me? My, my, I'm perpetually hurt," I pouted, and I was sure it reached the other line for Manx sneered, and then some papers were shuffled.
"Well, well, put it up with me. I'm tired, working endlessly today. Aranging papers, documenting patients' records, cancelling appointments, answering thousand of calls, running around the building... And it's all your fault, if you just listened to me about not going out last night-" Manx's usually professional voice came out as tired and weary.
"It wouldn't make any difference. I received a call a while ago from this number," I walked to the living room, and plopped on the leather couch. Manx sighed on the other line, and I smirked while I told her the number.
"I suggest I'll call you later, this is going to take some time, all right?"
I clicked on the end button and closed my eyes. I wasn't going think this time, I was too worn out, and I didn't like the prospect of thinking again of that Nagi Naoe kid. Based on his previous actions, I wondered if it's appropriate to call him kid.
"Kid, kid, kid..." I whispered to myself.
I turned the television on again, and picked the channel where they were
featuring Hawaii as their destination for the week. White sands and clear blue waters slowly relaxed my mind, removing all my thoughts. Ah, naked women, oh damn that editor, they censored the most interesting parts. I flipped the channel and ended up in a psychological thriller. Now, that's more like it.
Settling on the couch, I eventually relaxed, while clutching my remote control and the empty beer on both hands. When I was finally drifting into a glorious nap, the phone rang.
Cursing with rainbow colours, I stumbled up and got the receiver behind me.
Yet before I could utter a single curse, a breathless Manx said her unique hello to me: her hushed gasps.
"Dr. Schuldig, you're not going to believe this, so I advice you to prepare yourself so as not to shock yourself. The number you have given me, I checked it with the security section of the hospital since any directories could not help me a bit. Having the security's section's information, we then can conclude that it is absolute."
"Save me from your flowery words, just get to the point. Who is it?" I muttered impatiently.
Manx took a deep, dramatic breath and blurted it out. "Crawford."
I chuckled throatily, visualizing Dr. Crawford bent down in the bushes calling me and giving me weird clues on these trivial things. "The rat is playing with the telepath again," I cooed, and proceeded to chuckle again.
"You think I'm lying? Think again, Schuldig. You do not know Dr. Crawford at
all. All you know about him is that he lends his time in the hospital to profit. Other than that, you are naive about his nature and his background."
I stopped chuckling and thought about it more. "Yes, it may be possible..."
"Did you recognize the voice of the caller?"
I stopped in astonishment as a thought occurred to me. So perhaps that meaned that Naoe Nagi had something to do with Crawford, that's why he used the doctor's number. "No, it was someone else."
"Oh," Manx said exasperatedly. "Well then I bid you good luck with your intruder. And if it were Dr. Crawford, all right, notify me. I cannot pass a very juicy news," and Manx hung up.
What? Crawford? This didn't make any sense.
I cradled my head in my hands, and felt the rush of pain splitting my head. All these thoughts were causing a wreck in my shields. The first bout of voices were coming in through the damage, and it was making my head throb all the more. Plus the words 'Naoe Nagi' and 'Bradley Crawford' made my brain scramble until the only rational thoughts were further messed up in my head.
Perhaps a visit in my comfort place might do me good... I thought off-handily and went to pick up my trench coat, not even thinking that the temperature could have risen up due to the fact that spring was almost over.
Opening the door quickly, I found myself face to face with a certain blonde blending in in the shadows of my front step. Adjusting my eyes to the dark, I recognized the slightly sunken dark green eyes, the wide lips and the outfit that once attracted me to him. How fascinating to see a person again in the darkness, so enticing and beautiful. And also the fact that he once shared his chaotic thoughts with me, which silently vowed now a destruction to my unguarded shields.
The effect rose twenty-fold as the being of such implied intentions stood right in front of my doorstep, impassive features sharp against the moonlight.
"Yes?" I articulated as casually as I could, but inside the confusion and the doubts were settling in. I wasn't able to enter his head in my condition, or else his thoughts would weaken me, and weaken my reasons and logic.
'Naoe Nagi, Bradley Crawford'
My head pounded like bass.
"I need to talk to you," His voice was grave, as well as his expression.
Tucking my hands in my trench coat, I refused to go in once again. But there
was something about him that influenced me to return to my house, and accommodate him nicely.
'Naoe Nagi, Bradley Crawford'
Somehow Kudou Yohji intrigued me. As well as Naoe Nagi and Bradley
Crawford.
TBC.
Author's Notes: Thank you Picaro for beta-ing for me and also test-reading! Thank you thank you! I hope you enjoyed reading this, as I have enjoyed writing it.