Disclaimer: I don't own it.
Here I am, back again, with an early update! I'm trying to be quick about this, and hopefully wrap this puppy up before August. I'm half-way done writing the final chapter right now, and I'm really eager to start on the sequel to this...
So be expecting three more updates before July is over!
Chapter Twenty-Five: New Challenges
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"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand as I swing open the door to find T.K.
"Why, hello, Kari. How am I? I'm wonderful, thanks for asking. How are you? Oh, that's good," he answers sardonically. I glare at him. "What? A guy can't come see his girlfriend after a nice day of detention, which, by some miracle, he managed to get out of early?" Detention; what with everything going on today, I completely forgot where he was.
"Hi. You can't stay long," I say as I step back to let him in.
"Why not?"
"Matt's probably documenting every move you make, that's why," I explain.
"No, he's not. We 'talked' and he's cool. He won't even notice I'm gone," he protests. "Besides, I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to."
"Really? And what could that possibly be?"
"I can think of a thing or two," he mumbles as he kisses my neck. I tilt my head up to give him better access. "You got some time?" I open my mouth to protest, but he silences me with a kiss.
When he returns to my neck I whisper, "I think I can move some things around, yeah."
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"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"That thing on your arm, what is it?" I run my fingers over T.K.'s left arm, by his shoulder.
"Oh, that. It's a scar from where that bullet hit me, remember?" I don't really know why I didn't figure that out sooner. I was there when he got treated for it, and when he got his stitches. I just didn't think it would leave a scar.
"Yeah, I must have forgotten," I say.
He'll have that with him forever. And when he's older and his kids (maybe even our kids) ask him about what happened, he'll have to tell them. He'll have to explain to them that not everything out there is good, and sometimes, bad things happen to good people.
Every time he looks in the mirror, he's going to see that scar. He'll have to relive everything that took place in that school, everything he saw. And he saw some horrible things. He told me about a week ago that a girl died in his arms. She was Stacy, one of the most popular girls in our school. She was the girl that Mimi appointed head cheerleader when she graduated. And now, she was dead. T.K. was the last person she ever saw, ever touched. If I were him, I would be scarred for life. Maybe he is, and just doesn't let on.
I wonder how I would feel. I would be a mess, no question about it. I mean, he literally held someone as the life drained out of them. Could he feel her soul leave her body? Could he feel it when her heart stopped? I would be scared to touch anyone ever again. I bet he thinks about it all the time.
Hell, I wasn't even there and I think about it all the time.
But I guess something like that happened to me, too. I did watch as Anna died, so that kind of counts. It isn't the same thing, but at least it's something that helps me to sort of understand what T.K. went through.
"I think about it a lot," he whispers, as if reading my mind to know what I'm thinking. I look at up him and can feel the tears forming in my eyes at his expression. He isn't crying, but he looks as close to it as I have ever seen him be. "I think about her a lot."
"I'm so sorry that had to happen to you," I whisper back. He shakes his head and sits up a bit.
"It was my fault," he reveals with a sigh. "She stopped running. She stopped and looked at me and said 'thank you, I owe you my life.' And then she stumbled forward and clutched my arm before falling to the floor."
"No, baby, that isn't your fault," I insist, scooting my body closer to his. He stays stiff, not accepting my words. "You risked your life to save hers. Maybe she was meant to die, maybe there was no way around it."
"No, she wasn't. She wasn't supposed to die, Kari! She was only eighteen! If she hadn't stopped running to thank me...if I hadn't let her, then she'd still be alive right now."
"T.K., that's not true," I practically scream at him. I sit up and straddle him, grabbing his shoulders to emphasize my point. "You aren't responsible for what happened. You know who's responsible for her death? Davis and his friends are. They're the ones that killed her, not you. You practically got yourself killed, just to save her. You were a hero, and I don't care if you don't want to hear it, okay?"
"But I could have done something more," he persists. "If I had tried a little harder, she would be at home safe and sound with her parents right now. They wouldn't have had to bury their daughter. Her boyfriend and friends wouldn't have had to graduate without her." I remember her boyfriend. Scott, I think his name is. I saw him at the memorial service last Saturday. He looked pretty rough that day, to say the least.
I don't think words can describe what I feel right now. Just seeing him like this, like he's never been before, makes me want to break down and cry. But I can't. Countless times, I'm the one breaking down and he's the one being strong. This is one of the few times that I need to be the strong one. How long has he been keeping this inside? He's never acted like this before, about anything. Sure, I've known T.K. long enough to have seen him sad once in a while, but that's different. I've seen sad like when he loses an important basketball game, sad like when an old relative dies. But this...this is something new entirely.
"I didn't know Stacy that well, but I talked to her a few times, and she was a really wonderful person. It's a terrible thing that she died, and I'm so, so sorry for her poor family. I'm sorry for you, and what you had to go through, but I'm not sorry that things happened the way they did. If you tried harder, if you hadn't stopped running...God only knows what could have happened. I mean, maybe that bullet would have hit you instead." Despite myself, I can feel the tears roll down my cheeks. Shit. I was supposed to be the strong one. "I know it's terrible, and I'm sorry if you think I'm a heartless person, but I will never feel bad because it was her and not you."
"Kari, I don't think you're a heartless person. You're just glad that I'm okay, it doesn't mean you wanted her to be killed," he assures me.
"No, T.K., you don't get it. If you had...if it was...I would have died, too. I can't imagine what I would do if you weren't here right now. You can't even imagine how destroyed I would be," I choke out through a heavy fall of tears.
"I think I could. I would feel the same way if the roles were reversed. I mean, yeah, I 'risked my life' for her. But that was different. I was just trying to help her and do the right thing. I had to. But if it was you, I wouldn't just try to save you. I literally would have jumped in front of that bullet so it hit me instead of you. I don't think I would be strong enough to handle it if it had been you, if I had been in Scott's place," he admits. I nod and attempt a smile as he brushes away my tears with his thumb.
I want to tell him that I feel the same way, but I can't seem to get the words out. He already knows. At least, I hope he does.
I lean down and lay my head on his chest as he wraps me into a tight hug. Perhaps a little too tight, but I don't notice. All I can think about is how I don't think I could handle it if his arms weren't there to hug me, if he wasn't there to reassure me one day.
We'll never be the same again, none of us will be. We've all lost friends and family. We've all witnessed horrible things inside that school. Those of us lucky enough to make it out alive aren't really that lucky at all. We're just luckier than the dead ones, and that's about it.
I wouldn't be surprised if we all have to get serious, psychological help at least once throughout the course of our lives.
I learned something today, something that I should have learned a while ago: We all have our scars.
Whether emotional or physical, we all have our scars.
And scars are forever.
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I don't know how this happened. I don't know why Cindy has such an affect on me, but she does.
After she stormed out, I replayed out conversation in my head over and over. I analyzed it, trying to determine where I went wrong. I guessed it was because I didn't agree to visit her stupid reverend. So, after arriving at that conclusion, I was forced to make a choice: I could dig my heels in the sand and refuse to compromise, or I could go see her pal the reverend and humor her.
I decided, following much deliberation, that I would humor her just so she wouldn't hate me. I mean, let's face it, the rest of my friends are pretty screwed up right now. They're either not speaking to each other or are just never around to hang out anymore. Basically, right now, Cindy is the only real, reliable friend that I have left. Even Joe, who is probably the closest to me of all our friends, isn't around too much. He's always at the hospital or studying for the exams we have to take again. He's been going off the deep end about doing well on his exam, even though it's pretty certain to everyone but him that he's already got it in the bag, regardless of how long he studies.
I really like Cindy. Not that way, of course, but maybe one day I could even have those sorts of feelings for her. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.
That's another scary thought. Tomorrow could, after all, bring just about anything. It could bring Tai's awakening, or even Tai's death. Tomorrow, lightning could strike me dead when I walk out of my house. Tomorrow, a tornado could rip through Odaiba and kill us all.
So I figure I might as well make the most of the time I have left, and not get on anyone's bad sides.
"Reverend Toby?" I ask as I step into a small, square office at the church.
"Yes?" An American man, slightly older than middle age, looks up from his bible (I can't help but feel like he pulled it out when I knocked, just to emphasize his holiness) and waves me in.
"Hi, um, my name's Izzy. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time," I request.
"What seems to be the trouble, son?" he asks, motioning to the chair on the opposite side from the one he's sitting in at his desk.
"Well, I need a bit of guidance. Actually, no, that isn't really true. I suppose if I'm going to talk to you, I should be honest, huh?" The reverend nods, and half-smiles.
"Yes, I suppose that would be a good start."
"Okay. Well... I'm sure you're aware of what happened at Odaiba High a few weeks ago?" He nods once more. "I was there. One of my friends, Tai, was hurt pretty badly. He's in a coma, actually, and I just can't figure out why God would do something like that to him. He's a good guy. Everyone in that school was a good person, and yet he took so many of their lives."
"It was a terrible thing, what happened in that school. But what is your point, Izzy?" Reverend Toby asks.
"I look around and see so much injustice in the world. There's so much pain and suffering. Maybe God doesn't really exist, and people like you are just duped into believing that He does." I hope I'm not offending him but, really, that's the least of my concerns right now.
"Why would you think such a thing?"
"There's just no proof of the existence of God. Everything I have ever read about this subject all points to signs that God isn't real! I trust in things that can be proven through scientific processes. God doesn't fall under that category," I explain. "In fact, if you consider the law of—"
"—Izzy, you're smart, I get it. But sometimes, all the smarts in the world don't mean a thing when it comes right down to it. What's important is not what your science textbooks tell you. When it comes to the Lord, all that matters is what you believe. You need to have faith. Just because there's a setback, does not mean God does not look out for you. He loves you and is watching over you, as He is for all of His children," he preaches.
"Well, evidently not. Who was He busy watching out for when Tai got shot? Whose soul was He saving when Davis and his friends decided they wanted to blow our school away?" I demand. "If He does exist, God certainly isn't as good as He's made out to be." The reverend smiles at me, and I wonder what the hell could cause him to do so.
"God is cruel, yes, but he sees things that we cannot even fathom. Sometimes, he needs to do bad things to prepare you for things that are yet to come," he explains.
"So God putting my friend in a coma is preparing me for something else, something even worse? Tell God thanks, but if this is how he looks out for me, I think I'll pass."
"You don't know what you are saying, please don't deny God," he pleads. I'm too far past pleading now, though. God has infinite power, and yet he couldn't stop four asshole kids from hurting so many innocent people with their crackpot scheme.
"God is trying to kill my best friend! I hate God, and I will deny Him all I want," I insist.
"Izzy, everything that occurs on this earth is all part of God's plan for us. Your friend will die if it is God's will. Sometimes, things that we do not want to happen, will still happen. Sometimes, we must do things that we do not want to do, because it will benefit the greater good, in the long run. You must have faith. God loves His children, and wants only the best for them. But he is cruel, nonetheless."
God's will...Cindy mentioned that before, but I didn't really listen. I'm listening now. Could God's will really be to collect Tai and take him away from us? Does that mean that Tai really could die?
I have never felt so small, so unimportant in my life. My friend is hanging by a thread and all I can do is bitch about how God doesn't love me. He's tearing us apart and there is nothing I can do about it.
"God's really unfair, isn't he?" I whisper.
"Yes, He is."
"How can you work for someone like Him?" He chuckles.
"Personally, I believe that we are all put on this earth for a purpose. When your purpose is fulfilled, you are no longer needed," he declares thoughtfully. I never thought of it that way. What if Tai's purpose is 'fulfilled'?
When will mine be?
"So what was Davis' purpose? What about Ken and Cody and Jacob's? Why did they shoot everyone? What kind of a purpose is that?" I demand, my voice rising again.
"Part of what makes God so absolutely mysterious is that he gives us free will. He makes us in His image, and then lets us do whatever we like. As a result, sometimes, bad things can happen. Throughout our lives, we are all tempted by the devil. And, sometimes we surrender to the evil ways, because we do not have the strength to turn to God and ask for help," he speaks. "We make our own destinies and decide our own fates, just like we all choose to believe different truths. I can't tell you how you should feel. God wants you to choose to follow him, not be forced to. You must see the light yourself."
"How will I know when I do?"
"I cannot tell you that. When you truly believe, you will just know. Do not fight it. Have no prejudice, nor trepidation," he tells me. I must say, he's pretty insightful. Even if he did dedicate his life to someone who I'm still not sure exists.
"Thanks. I think that's all I need," I say, standing. In actuality, I think I need much more than what I've been given here. Or, perhaps, I didn't need anything at all. All I know is that I'm more confused now than I was when I got here.
"Go forth in peace, to love and serve the Lord."
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"Joe?" I glance up from my dinner to find my dad making his way over to my table. I've just finished my rounds, and now I'm in the hospital cafeteria catching a late dinner before going home. Despite what you might think, the food here is actually not that bad.
"Dad? Aren't you supposed to be in surgery right now?" I question. My father has been talking about this upcoming operation all week. There's no way he's forgotten about it, right?
"It was pushed back a little bit. The family needed a minute. I'm going up to prep right now, I just came down to see if you were going home," he explains.
"Oh. Yeah, once I finish eating I'm going home to study," I tell him.
"Would you mind stopping off at the store on your way home? I had a prescription filled earlier today at Sesu's that I need to pick up, but I'm going to be in surgery all night."
"Sure, I'll go right now. What are they?" I ask.
"Just some migraine pills," he shrugs. He reaches into his wallet and hands me some money. It seems a little pricey for headache pills but, knowing my father, the physician, they're most likely the best over-the-counter migraine remedy in all of Japan. I'm glad that he's finally doing something about his pain. Dad gets them from time to time, not often, but when they do occur, they really take a lot out of him. I can't imagine how he can get up and go to work with one of those migraines of his.
"Will you be home at all tonight?" I inquire as I put the money in my wallet, which is in my backpack. He shakes his head.
"No, probably not. I have to go now, though. I'll see you—well, not tonight...or tomorrow for that matter—but sometime this week?" He laughs and throws up his hands at his lack of availability. I nod and take a bite of my sandwich.
"Have a good surgery," I say through a mouthful as my dad turns to leave.
"I'll try. Have a safe drive home, and don't forget that prescription," he reminds me.
I take another bite of my sandwich as my dad disappears from sight, off to save another life. His profession has the craziest hours. He used to tell me stories about when he was an intern, and how sometimes, he had to pull 48-hour shifts.
How could you possibly stay awake for two whole days? Sure, you get the occasional break in which you can take a short catnap, but that doesn't really count.
It's just another thing that I'll never understand about my father. He's so dedicated to his job. And somehow, even after a 48-hour shift while he was trying to make a name for himself, he would come home and play peek-a-boo with me or catch with Jim before taking a much needed rest. Being a father was his other job, a job he was just as dedicated to, if not more so, than being a doctor. I don't remember seeing my dad much back then; maybe it's because I wasn't even a year old when he was running around the hospital like a chicken with its head cut off. But somewhere, on some level or another, I remember the games of peek-a-boo. I remember, and that's why I'm so close with my dad. We had a crazy bond from the start.
After his internship ended, he started working at the hospital, and is now the chief of staff in his field.
My dad is my hero, no question about it. I used to think it was because of what he did, the way he took charge and saved lives everyday. I only realize now that that isn't why I respect him so much. Don't get me wrong, that definitely makes me respect him, but it's different. It would be very easy for him, a father of two, to ignore his kids while working long hours at the hospital. But he didn't. Starting when I was about six, my dad would get called away in the middle of the night all the time. When he would come home, early in the morning, he would read the paper as I ate breakfast and then he'd walk my brother and me to school.
He was always there. It didn't matter how long he had gone without sleep, or how many patients he had lined up for the next day. He did everything he could to spend time with Jim and me. He really was amazing like that. He still is. He is a full-time doctor and a full-time father, all wrapped up into one person.
I throw the rest of my meal out, grab my backpack filled with books, and leave the hospital. I briefly think about stopping in to see Tai before going, but decide against it. I visited him earlier today and I don't think I can handle seeing him again. When I look in on him, I feel like I'm watching a tragedy unfold and I'm powerless to stop it.
Maybe that's exactly what's happening.
I get in my car and turn the radio up really loud. I once read somewhere that it's not good to blast your radio, and that while driving it can cut down on your reaction time, but I don't care right now. I just need something to drown out my thoughts, and this is the only thing I can think of on such short notice.
I pull into the parking lot, grab my bag off the seat beside me and walk into the store. Sesu's is a medium grocery store. It is named after the owner, Sesu, who started it himself, about sixty years ago. He passed away last year, and his eldest grandson now manages it.
I walk over to the pharmacy and get the prescription. I pay for it and as I walk away from the counter, I open the bag and read the bottle. Heart pills. Strong, medically prescribed heart pills. They're definitely not for migraines.
Why does my dad need these types of pills? It's a pretty hefty dose, too.
And why is he keeping it from me? Does my brother know?
I put the bottle back in the small paper bag, open my backpack and put it in. Zipping up my knapsack, I make my way to the exit.
"Help!"
"Somebody call an ambulance!"
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Woo, okay, kind of a cliffhanger...sort of? Trust me, it's good.
Also, I decided to try my hand at Harry Potter fanfics, so if you're into that, check it out! It's called "Just Going With It", and it takes place after HBP.
See you next chapter.