The police keep questioning me, about how well I know them, where did they like to spend their free time, whether they did drugs or have any enemies. They stop listening to my story as soon as I mention shadows or monsters or heartless. Already I've been put through an MRI to see if I have a concussion, and they are awaiting the results to see if I have a concussion. The x-rays from a little earlier lie forgotten on the nightstand.
My mother sits in a chair by the window, sleeping. She is oblivious of all the commotion. She doesn't even ask if I am fine. My father stands in the hall talking to the police and the doctor. They discuss my condition, whether I am well or not.
"Kairi, calm down," Selphie tells me, putting a hand on my arm as I ask for the fifth time if they'll finally listen to me. "People are still searching. Tidus and Wakka too. Don't worry, they'll find them."
I know they won't. They aren't in our world. "But they aren't on De-" I say, sitting up before getting cut off as Selphie puts a finger up. She places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me back down.
"Just rest right now," she tells me. "You can tell us what happened when you're feeling better." I give up, letting her fix my blankets. It somewhat annoys me how she's playing mother right now. Except for the police, no one will ask my opinion. They are too convinced that I am weak, unable to speak for myself.
Tidus and Wakka come in, something cradled in Tidus's arm. Wakka looks grim, not saying a word as they approach my bed.
"Kairi, we found this," Tidus says, handing over the bundle. It is cloth, bundled and worn. "Looks familiar? We thought you might know what it is. The drawing looked like something you'd draw."
I sit up before Selphie can tell me to rest again, unfolding their find. It is the white, tattered sail of the Highwind, the raft. The small thylassa shell I drew in the corner for luck is faded but recognizable. This is unmistakably the sail. The sail is torn, as if it had been ripped right off the mast.
"The raft," I say softly, stroking the material. "It must not have survived the storm." I remember all the time we took on making our vessel. Sora had stolen one of his mother's best sheets for the sail.
"Raft?" Wakka asks, confused.
"Yes," I reply, a tear sliding down my cheek as I mourn the loss of our hard work. "We made it so we could explore other worlds. We never told you guys." Tidus looks offended for a moment before remembering the situation.
"Take that filthy thing out of here," a nurse scolds, bustling in to grab out of my lap before I can protest.
"We'll take that ma'am," an officer says, startling us. We all look up as the nurse obeys and leaves. To us, he explains, "For evidence. This raft you mention. Did you set off in it and get caught in the storm?"
"No!" I yell. "I've already explained it! We never left the island by boat! The boats got washed away! So did other people's if you want proof! There was a black void and-" The officer looks startled for a moment as Selphie lunges to push me back down against the pillows.
"Sorry sir," she apologizes. "She's been through a lot. Now isn't a good time to ask her questions." Before I can say something, she sticks a thermometer under my tongue. Wakka ushers the man out and Tidus follows. Their voices fade off as they disappear down the hall.
Taking out the thermometer, I toss it across the room, pulling my blanket over me as I turn away from her. She doesn't understand how frustrated I am.
"Sleep for now, alright?" she tells me, closing the light as she leaves the room. I am pitched into darkness, only a faint light peeking in from under the door. Alone except for my mother's soft snores. Even after all the noise, she sleeps, unable to listen to me. No one will listen to me. They won't take the time.
"Nobody," I whisper, wiping a tear away only to find more running down my face and soaking my pillow. "Nobody." As sleep beckons, that one word echoes in my head until even it fades off like an old dream.
Chapter 4
Pale, ugly green tiles loom up at me as I scrub bathroom floors as punishment for my loss of temper. My knees ache as I dunk my sponge into the soapy bucket, the smell of old urine overwhelming. I am suddenly grateful my parents opted to pay more so I could have a small private bathroom in my room.
"Pass the bucket, will you?" says a black haired girl, her long locks tied back with a scarf. "Hey you, are you deaf?"
I ignore the girl, not bothering to look up. She's reputed as a troublemaker, constantly punished. Scrubbing bathroom floors doesn't seem new to her.
Irritated, she stands up, placing her foot on my sponge perilously close to my hand. I turn my stare upward, my gaze cold. "What do you want," I say, my tone frigid.
"Calm down," she says defensively, putting up her hands. "I just wanted the bucket."
"Anna! Kairi! You two, back to work!" scolds the lady supervising from a chair by the door. "You're being punished, so no socializing!" Forgetting us once more, she returns to flipping through her fashion magazine, chewing bubble gum. The other girl grudgingly takes the bucket and returns to her spot.
Silence hangs in the air save for the popping of bubbles and the shuffle of pages. I can see why she's chosen a fashion magazine. The lady needs much help with her makeup, looking a little like a clown.
"So, what are you in here for?" a voice whispers. I look up, unsure of the question.
"Huh?"
"What did you get in trouble for?" Anna says. A smirk hangs on her face as if she enjoys the thought of mischief..
"Oh," I say, as if it all makes sense now. "I lost my temper and smashed my door." I'm not exactly proud of it, but I don't regret doing it. "And you?"
"Broke some guy's arm," she replies proudly. I look startled. Who exactly is this girl? "It was just one of the other resident psycho's here," she says as if that excuses it all. "A nut who tries to exorcist everyone's inner demon in the name of the Lord. I guess my 'inner demon' was too much for him to handle."
She scares me a little. Why isn't she in the dangerous patients ward confined in a straight jacket? She flashes her feral grin again and tells me, "Don't worry. You seem okay." I relax a little, but not that much.
"Back to work, little ingrates!" the lady snaps again, standing over us as if trying to listen to our conversation. She kicks my sponge away with an evil sneer. I quickly resume scrubbing, quiet again for a moment.
"Do you always get in trouble?" I ask curiously, whispering.
"Yeah, though it doesn't seem like you do too often," she says. I don't say anything else, knowing it's true. Even in school I never was chastised. This is the first time I've ever been disciplined.
Anna breaks the silence this time as she says without looking up, "You know, you're not that bad. You don't seem as insane as the others." I'm not sure to take this as an insult or a compliment.
"You actually seem normal. I don't picture you as crazy. What are you here for?" she says. I am quiet for a while. Do I want to tell her my story?
"I'm not crazy," I say. "All I did was tell the truth on how my two friends disappeared one day and nobody believes me. They think I've been traumatized and is going crazy because of it."
"I see," she nods. I am amazed. She's the first person who seems to believe every word and not just agree to make me feel better. She doesn't even pry, just listens. I almost feel a friendly bond with her. "So how about you?" I inquire?
"Don't ask," she says, her smile vanishing. The bond of friendship is gone. Neither of us says anything as we work.
The task is tedious, the motions making my arms hurt. Soap stings in a blister on my hand from the work. The work seems to drag on, never ending. It is like the days here, one square tile after another, sometimes appearing different but still much the same as the others.
The light pouring in from a vent near the ceiling dims as the afternoon passes. Soon, it is too dark to see, even with the single dingy bulb dangling above. I can barely make out the ground in shadowed areas, and my hand aches, the sponge worn down from a day of scrubbing at rough grout.
"You two can finish tomorrow," the lady finally says. It almost seems too good to be true as I just kneel there for a moment in disbelief while Anna rises and collects my sponge and the bucket.
"Come on, we're free," she tells me. Scrubbing the floor is so mind numbing that I almost expect the attendant's sharp voice commanding them back to work. For a moment, I misunderstand and believe I'm finally allowed to leave this wretched asylum, but a second later I realize it's only the bathroom. I'm not truly free. And we still have to return for tomorrow. The results of a tiring day keeps me from thinking straight.
I rise on shaky legs as Anna helps me up, holding my elbow. "Thanks," I mumble, shuffling toward the door. My clothes are damp from the water, but the cold is welcoming on my throbbing muscles, numbing them.
I follow Anna to a closet where she pours the water down a sink, handing me a sponge as she begins rinsing the other. Doing the same, I can't help imagining the sound of the running water relaxing. After scrubbing, anything besides popping, page flipping, and the dull shuffling of sponges as they scour the floor sounds relaxing.
A shadow blocks the light from hallway as we turn around. It is an attendant, the one called James.
"Kairi, let's go back now," he calls. Anna gives me a strange look. Apparently she didn't expect me to be one of the "special cases," the ones who are constantly confined to their rooms unless an attendant is present.
"See you tomorrow," she says in a somewhat unbelieving voice. I give her the faintest of smiles, one that can barely be noticed. It was nice talking to someone who treated me normally, but it didn't last. Couldn't last. Nothing nice lasted. Why my parents requested the special treatment for me, I don't know. I'd rather have the company of other patients instead of being alone.
As I am left in my room, I pick at my dinner, mashed potatoes and meatloaf. It hits me how cruel life must be to let me have a small bit of companionship only to have it ripped away so I can return to my colorless world.
The food grows cold as I prod at it with my fork, my appetite gone despite all the had work I've done today. Eating alone depletes your appetite. Even the staff here are suspecting I am becoming anorexic.
Putting down the fork, I can't stomach another bite, lying on my bed and facing the wall, my back turned to everything else. Mary enters to collect my tray, clucking her tongue at the sight of my full plate.
"You have to eat more, my dear," she says in what she believes is a motherly voice. She thinks it makes the patients respect her like a mother. She reminds me more of a mother pig.
I don't say anything, keeping my back toward her. I pretend to be asleep. Mary sighs. "We're going to have to start pumping you full of nutrients if you don't eat," she says, knowing I am only faking. "And I don't think you'll like that too much."
As soon as she leaves, I sit up, resisting the urge to throw a pillow at the door as she retreats. I'd rather be alone than in a room with her. After a moment, though, I regret that decision. At night, I feel abandoned more than ever, not having even the sight of people passing my door to keep me occupied.
I look out the repaired glass on my door. Patients are returning to their rooms for the day. Workers are going home. Soon there are no longer people passing my door. Only an occasional glimpse of a janitor. The faint bustling from the halls is no more. I feel depressed and alone once more. No one looks at me anyways, though I always hear them whispering to each other behind my back.
"The poor girl," I hear. "Her mind was an awful thing to lose. Such a tragedy."
I think about the first normal conversation I've had in a long time, the talk with Anna. Though I've only met her once, she's the only one who seems to understand me, to see me as equal.
Lying back, I wonder how I am willing to be scrubbing floors than spending the day in my room doing nothing as long as I can talk to someone. I am that desperate. Holding the thought, I almost welcome tomorrow and finishing my punishment if I get to spend at least one minute feeling normal and understood.
Closing my eyes, I let slumber overtake me as I grasp the hope that perhaps I might not be as lonely as I thought.
Author's notes:
Okay, I had a friend request that I actually start putting these, so I guess I'll take the time. Thanks for the reviews I've been getting. I didn't actually expect anyone to like the story since it's the first thing I've ever written.
Yes, I know this fourth chapter has taken a bit longer than the others, but those I just had a lot of free time. I'm going to try to at least update once a week but not more than twice a week. It's just too stressful if I'm completely obsessed over it. I have a life you know!
Nanashi: It's been kindergarten since anyone called me chit chat. You're the only one who still does it! And no, it's not actually crossed with Final Fantasy. I just put the Yuna thing in the last chapter for fun.
I'm not sure if I plan to make it much happier in the future. I have to admit that of all the chapters, I hate this one the most. The ending just doesn't feel right, but I couldn't think of anything else. If anyone has suggestions or other comments, feel free to e-mail me at DrkShadowKittihotmail.com and I'll be more than happy to reply. And yes, this is the first time I've added anything for Author's notes, so I'm ranting a lot now, but feel free to flame if you don't like me adding them!