"I don't remember much of that night, if anything. I just remember getting in the car, my mom grabbing my arm, finding out about Rikka, if she was going to live or not. And that's it" Were the first words with my counselor.
It had been one week since the accident. Word spread fast that Rikka ended up in an accident, and I felt worse and worse with each passing day, my mother ended up putting me through counseling. Why? I'm fine and I don't really need help, Rikka was the one who needed it. Not me.
Well, that's what I told myself at first, then I noticed I wasn't smiling as much as I used to. My hair looked even worse, I mean, yeah sure my hair wasn't exactly neat at first but, I had just given up. By week three, I had lost some weight and my grades were dropping.
Who would have thought someone I had only known for a year could do that to someone? Am I weak willed? Maybe Rikka had a bigger impact than I first thought.
My friends were the first to notice what was wrong. After the accident I mean, Nibutani worried about me, showed concern. Which felt odd at first, but I got used to it. Dekomori's 8th grade syndrome softened the blow for her a little. She had claimed that the 'Tyrants Eye' needed rest after being active for so long. How much of that was her masking her true feelings about the matter and how much she believed was unknown to me, but I knew on the inside it hurt her. I feel guilty that I'm taking it worse than her, she's known Rikka much long than I ever have. It isn't..fair.
So, you're probably wondering about Rikka's sister, right? Touka? She ended up in the hospital too, pretty serious but she's 'okay'. A broken arm, a concussion, pretty much nothing compared to what happened to Rikka. Odd isn't it? Doesn't make sense? I mean, you would think that they were sitting next to each other, which they were, that she would get similar injuries.
I decided to bring it up to her one day, when I was feeling worse than I normally did.
"So, Touka I've been meaning to ask.." I paused, trying to think of the right way to form my question.
"You've been meaning to ask what?" She replied, her usual strength in her voice was gone, it felt wrong.
"I've been wanting to know, how did Rikka get worse injuries than you?" Is what I eventually said, it seemed the softest way of asking. The best way.
Touka was quiet, as you'd expect, probably doing the same as I had done. She had been quiet for about a minute or two before answering.
"She pushed me out of the way." She said bluntly. Pushed out of the way? On a bus?
"Excuse me?" Was the only thing I could say really, I mean, it was out of the blue, unsuspected.
"Rikka had seen the vehicle coming. And had pushed me as far as she could from where it had hit the bus. Which even though it wasn't far, it saved my life." Her calm demeanor on her face in place, not faltering.
It took me a little bit to process that bit of information. Rikka did that? She pushed her big sister, the one who always won, the one who told her to grow up? I had to think about this, so I thanked Touka and left. Just before I closed the door, I thought I heard her cry, and I felt guilty for talking about it.
And finally. Rikka. You're probably wondering 'Is she dead? Is she alive?'. Well I'm almost there, hold on.
The next day I decided to see the hospital where she was sent. She never left. I checked in as a visitor, and was brought to her room.
Room 403. That was her room number, the one she's been in for so long. The number feels integrated in my brain. Brandished. But it's only been a few weeks. It feels like a year.
As I turned the doorknob, I tried to bring some color back to my face, as if she might be waiting for me to open the door. I opened the door, and closed it, the room smelled of flowers. They had brought some air fresheners in the room I assume. The beeping of the heart monitor going rhythmically.
Beep...beep...beep..beep..
I took a seat next to her bed, and took her hand. She had lost a lot of weight since the accident. Her fingers were bony, and her face was not as full as it used to be.
"Hey Rikka, how are you?" Was what I said. What I always said. Every day when I visit her. She doesn't reply though, she stays quiet. I always wonder if she can hear me.
Her legs got broken in the crash, to put it bluntly, well, one did, and she'll have to walk with a cane for probably the rest of her life. She also seemed to have suffered some brain damage as well, but due to her current condition, they doctors don't know the effects it'll have on her.
Why isn't she speaking, you ask? Why do we act like she's dead? Because she's the thing closest thing to being dead but still being alive. In a coma.