v. souretsu
***
I received a strange e-mail this morning.
In which was written "The will to be born."
It says, Right now I'm struggling to exhale oxygen.
My remains have already been completely disposed of...
They say there's no such place as Shangri-la.
***
It had felt like she was falling. Shadows of reds and blacks: whole universes; seemed to flit about her as she fell through an abyss of ever-growing darkness. At first she had been scared, but after a second or two an odd feeling of contentment washed over her and she closed her eyes, seeing scenes of what her disjointed mind guessed was her life.
Had there been a thud, a feeling of crashing? Pain was suspiciously absent. Her eyes slowly opened to a blue-black light that filled whatever cave or part of the forest she was in.All she had been doing was running, but she guessed she hadn't looked far enough ahead and had fallen of a cliff.
Was she dead?
"No," a quiet voice answered from the dark. "You're still very much alive."
Nakuru sat up, the blood rushing to her head. "What?" she gasped. The cave (that's what she guessed it was) was very cold: pinpricks of icy air kept stinging her face. Nakuru knew there had to be a ground, and she could feel it...but where exactly was it?
"It's okay," the voice said. "I won't let you get hurt."
Standing up, Nakuru asked, fear creeping into her voice, "Where am I? Who are you?"
Her feet jerked out from under her, and she landed squarely on the rocky hard ground. Gasping slightly from the pain and sudden lack of breath, her heartbeat quickened considerably has the room whipped her forward, accelerating. A hot, white light flashed before her eyes, then was gone, leaving multi-colored spots in front of her eyes.
"Where am I?" she said again, this time to the figure on the large, white rock in the center of the room.
The figure looked up. The light brown hair was a little lankier, and slightly unkept, and the face a little thinner, and the green eyes looked tired, but Nakuru instantly knew who this older version of the girl she was so familiar with was.
"What you see," Sakura began monotonously, is the image of myself that you see, and what I see is the image of you that I see."
"Wha-?" Nakuru began, cocking her head to the left. "I don't think I understand..."
"That's okay," Sakura answered, petting her bare toes. She was in a long white flowing shift, and seemed to glow with an eerie light. Nakuru felt scared, and a little awed, looking at this skinny creature, so different from the sunny, exuberant girl of the past.
"As long as we understand each other," she continued, "then I guess we're fine."
Nakuru began to speak with a "But I don't think-", but Sakura but cut her off.
"What is love?" she murmured, examining her delicate hand, holding it close to her face to peer at the lines and dips and dirt. Palmistry...
Quizzically, Nakuru gazed at the girl. "What?" She didn't understand any of this; not at all-why was she here? Where exactly was she?
Sakura continued. "Can love truly happen? Is it a human-only affair?" She turned her head and gave Nakuru an arrow-sharp gaze. "Or," she said, still staring, "Can it happen to you, too?"
"I am human!" Nakuru shouted, standing up. Outraged, her voice contorted in disbelief, she cried, "I feel things just the same as you! I bleed, I cry, I love just like you!"
Sakura continued looking at the moon guardian. "Or," she mused, "is love only for a privileged few?" Pointedly, her gaze said not you. Love is never for things like you.
What the hell had happened? Breathing heavily, anger splashed on her pale, canvas-like face like so many abstract paintings, Nakuru strode over to the teenaged girl. "Sakura," she cried plaintively, "what happened to you? What happened?"
Sakura stared. "Nothing, Akizuki-san. I have just been part of something," her voice rose, "that I refuse to believe exists!"
Nakuru could not be stopped. She began shaking Sakura, screaming, "What happened? What happened?" Tears ran down her face. She was a person, she was human, she was, she was, she was!
No you're not, a tiny voice whispered in her mind. You are nothing, merely an it...
Nakuru barely realized it when Sakura disappeared without so much as a puff of smoke.
***
If there's no such place as Shangri-la let's make one of our own.
***
Are you human?
***
The girl sitting in the wooden fold-up chair murmured, "Yes," while wiping her tear-stained face with the torn sleeve of her gray school jacket.
***
Are you human?
***
"Of course I am!" she shouted. "Eriol made to look like one, to act like one, therefore, I must be human."
***
You are aware that you have wings?
***
Muffled, as her face was buried in her hands, and through the hair poking up at odd places, she whispered, "Yes. But..." she stared up at the ceiling angrily, "That's the other me!"
***
The true you.
***
"Must we discuss this?" she said softly, staring at her hands.
***
If this `other self' is the real you, then, of course.
***
She diverted the subject. "Where are we, anyway?" The girl glanced nervously about the room.
It was pitch black, sans for a spotlight shining in her face. She was sure she could hear the soft silken mumble of whispering around her, and the distinct whirr of a machine.
***
We are in your `core'; the birthplace of your psyche.
***
She shivered. "It's so cold..."
***
The reason I never take root even when someone devours me,
is that "all living things are alone"
A teapot hissed in the corner, blowing steam into Eriol's face. His glasses glazed, flashing slightly: his eyes were hidden from view.
In the other room, Kaho was on the phone with the police force, frantically trying to find out just where Nakuru was.
***
Now then, You hate that it's our nature to continue
this cycle of reincarnation. Of course you do.
You still haven't started construction on anything.
But you have plans to start from scratch.
***
Aren't you afraid that you can be replaced?
***
The question startled her. "What?" she gasped. "No...no, Eriol wouldn't get rid of me...he loves me..."
***
But, you're not human. Haven't you ever noticed how careless they are with their playthings? If you break, he can replace you...he is the creator, after all...
***
"I'm irreplaceable," she murmured. "I'm not a toy...I'm one of them..."
***
You refer to humans as them and yet you still believe you are one? That is idiotic, and incorrect. Don't be stupid; humans go through phases quickly, and once they are through with one...
***
"They go right to the next."
***
You're catching on.
***
She didn't want to believe any of this. The voice was so tempting, though; it tantalized her with horrific what if's and half-truth's.
At least, that's what she wanted to believe them to be.
A noise startled her. Looking up, she gasped slightly at the sight in front of her.
Three girls, all identical to her, stood in front of her. The one on the left seemed smaller, even though she was just as tall as the others, and meeker. Her clothes were rags, gray and lifeless, with bloodstains here and there. The second, in the middle, had a cruel air about her; blood was splattered all over her sweet white dress covered in lace and frills. Beside her, standing at the right, was dressed in a cape, and brown boots; a stopwatch and hammer were hanging loosely from her hands and belt.
She peered at the three through her hands, then raised her head quizzically. "Who...who are you?" she whispered.
The one in the cape bowed. "Hello," she murmured politely. Straightening, she said, "I am your superego." She smiled wolfishly, looking like she'd enjoy swallowing Nakuru whole. She waved to the others. "This is your ego," the shy girl smiled wanly, "and...your id."
The id was dangerous, Nakuru could sense: a murderer.
Slowly, she stuttered out, "W-why are you here?"
The superego smiled a half-moon smile, her eyes narrowing in unconcealed delight as she bowed, bringing her head close to Nakuru's:
"To examine you," she whispered, her breath, stinking of rotten flesh, washing over Nakuru's face unpleasantly.
***
The courage to give birth to then scrap something.
a knife cutting through thin air.
today, placenta, tomorrow
Floor met her startled feet. Shocked, she nearly fell onto the slick tiles; she caught herself just in time.
Wide-eyed, she peered around the sterile white room. "W-where are we?"
The girl that claimed she was the superego smiled again; sharp and a little frightening.
"Are you alive?"
The question startled her. "O-of course!"
"Do you feelings?"
"Yes!" She was about to say something more when the caped girl cut her off.
"Only humans have feelings." She turned to Nakuru. "You are not human, therefore, you have no feelings."
Nakuru slumped down to the clean floor. It glinted with a cruel light from the all-too bright florescent lighting overhead. Burying her face in her hands, she whispered, "I thought we already discussed this."
The superego continued on. Monotonously, she said, "And if you are not human, you have no soul. If you have no soul, you are full of sin." She turned to Nakuru, a hard shimmer of light caught in her eye. "And," she said, "If you are full of sin...you cannot be saved."
The room was suddenly empty. Nakuru gasped, tears streaming down her face. "No," she moaned. "No..."
Suddenly, she got up, and kicked the wall. The room was cold and hard and so, so white...it was worse then a hospital. It was a hospital. It was a sadist's image of a hospital.
Nakuru pounded her fists on the wall, screaming, again and again, "No! No! No!"
When a drop of blood splattered on the clean floor, the room suddenly was missing a life.
***
I became aware coming out from between her legs.
And here I found out "half the meaning",
that right now I'm in the process of holding in the oxygen.
The remains need no defending...
Kaho clutched the lacy bed sheets in her hand, wringing them out as if they were particularly stubborn pieces of laundry. In the bed, Nakuru lay silently, her face pale, a bandage covering most of her head.
They had found her by the river, holding a stopwatch, unconscious as the water rushed past her, spitting up flecks of foam onto her ghostly cheek. And, hurriedly, they had dragged her to the hospital, and a week later, home.
***
Let me see your face please.
***
This chapter was absolute hell to write. Oh, well. I'll live.
Reviews make my day.