Worlds Apart

Chapter 2: Numb

Disclaimer: If I owned Love Hina, why the hizzell would I be writing this!?

I got home quicker than I wanted to. As I opened the door, silence greeted me. I smiled; no one was home yet. I had some nice quiet time to myself so I decided to spend it in my room.

Walking in, I dropped down on my bed and sighed. The day had been weird at times but overall good. Yumi was a stalker as usual, things were boring at lunch, and once again I pretended to be like everyone else. Yumiko was.interesting.. My "fan-group" were creepy like they always were, my friends were unbearably naïve once again, and everything else was normal.

As I lay on my bed I thought about going to the police station getting a restraining order as a gift for Yumi. Then Yumiko suddenly popped into my mind. A few verses of her song still stuck in my mind. I smiled unconsciously. She was dressed in a figure showing white gown- goodness only knows how she got it-and her voice was like.birds singing after a storm. I quickly shook these thoughts away. Yumiko was the new school nerd. What would they think.?

A door slammed and interrupted my thoughts. Then came a flow of curses and complaining. My brother is home. A feminine voice disrupted the whining with a, "Oh be quiet! Man, you never shut up!" My sis is home, too.

Then another voice spoke up. "Will you two SHUT UP!? You're worse than little kids!"

"Why don't you shut up?"

"Why don't you all SHUT UP!!" I yelled. I was getting a migraine. A curly brown head popped into my room.

"Yoshiaki? When did you get home?"

"About ten minutes ago. Where's Mom?" I asked. My eldest sister nodded her head toward my parent's room. Mom was probably resting from dealing with my older siblings. I decided to check in on her in case they upset her or something.

I walked through the hallway adorned with family portraits. Quietly, I stepped into her doorway. "Mom?"

"Yes, Yoshiaki?"

"Oh, nothing. Just wanted to check in on you."

"Can you close the door on your way out? Your brother's on a whine-athon again.."

I smiled and closed the door. The front door opened unexpectedly and in rolled my father. He was bald and had squinty eyes. His skin wrinkled as he said, "Whew! It's cold out there!" loudly.

My sister squealed, "You don't have to say it so LOUD. I have a stinkin' headache!"

He paid no mind and continued into the kitchen. I walked in while he was there and he ruffled my hair, messing up my perfectly placed brown spikes.

"Woo! You use too much gel! I can cut my hand on your hair!!" he laughed roughly. I grimaced and tried to fix my hair, which was now white from the disturbed gel.

"At least I have hair." I was mad now. My hair was one of the only things I could be proud of.

"Not if you keep putting gel. Why don't you get a hair cut?"

"Why don't you get a life?" I blurted this out unexpectedly. I could see his face falling and he turned away. I slapped my forehead and went to take a bath. As always, I never think before I speak. As always, I had to live with the guilt.

I stepped into the white tub filled to the brim with steaming hot water. I rested my head on the wall and tried to let the guilt and pain wash away. My skin was turning redder by the minute but I didn't feel it.

I never feel it.

It burned, sizzled, and reddened, but I was oblivious to the pain. I dunked my head under for a few minutes and let the hot liquid soak into my hair. I tried to wash the guilt away, but it could not go away. Once again, I had to live with the guilt..

Just a few more minutes, and the air would be cut off from my system.no more air for me.I don't deserve it..

Finally, I couldn't take it and brought my head back to the surface. I gasped for air and filled my lungs with the sweet substance. Sweet air.it's so nice..

But someone as horrible as me doesn't deserve air. Someone who can't feel the burn of boiling water..