Summer of Snow
By Rhino7
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, its characters or storyline. This storyline is mine. This is my first attempt at a non-OC and a first person POV, so bear with me. Kind reviews always welcome and appreciated! Kairi POV.
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Chapter One: Prelude
I should have seen it coming.
I should have known, should have suspected, should have noticed anything at all. There were signs, heaven knows there were signs, but I didn't see them. I hadn't paid close enough attention.
"I'm very sorry." The lady in the white coat was saying. The tag on her coat read Dr. Sue Young.
Sora's fingers closed more tightly around mine. He's just as terrified as I am. The right side of his face was still swelling, but he was refusing to put any ice on it.
"But, he's going to be okay, right? It…It isn't permanent, is it?" Sora stammered, swallowing several times.
Dr. Young's face softened sympathetically. It makes me want to slap the woman. She has no idea what we've been through. The stupid woman.
"The chance for recovery is slim at best."
"And at worst?" Sora immediately asked.
Her face softened further. I grit my teeth. "He never truly wakes up." She answered in what she apparently thinks is a consoling voice.
Sora looked at me. I looked back, tears burning in my eyes. I'm trying to contain them, really I am, but I was never good at concealing my emotions like the boys did.
"C-Can we see him?" Sora asked.
Dr. Young paused for a long moment, eying us both. She seemed to be sizing us up, trying to see how much she thought we could take. I just glared back until she looked away.
"I'd need to consult the other specialists." She said dismissively.
"How long will that take?" I asked.
She bit her lip, "Today may not be the best—"
"Please, we just want to talk to him." I pleaded.
"He—He can't hear you in his state—"
Sora jumped to his feet, kicking the chair back behind him, "Stop saying that! You make it sound like he'll never get better!"
His outburst wasn't startling or surprising, but I still clasp his arm, trying to get him to sit down again. The harder he fights the truth, the harder it fights me, and the harder I have to fight to hold myself together.
Dr. Young studies him carefully. No doubt she's been yelled at, threatened, and probably struck a few times because of her diagnoses. That didn't ease my anger with her at all.
"Schizophrenia isn't something you just recover from. It's a very complex and dominating illness that is both unpredictable and dangerous. It is beyond my control to allow you to see him right now."
I jumped up now, "Then talk to the specialists, right now."
"Miss—"
"Please." I'm pleading now.
The doctor exhaled and rubbed the bridge of her nose, "Let me see what I can do."
"Thank you." Sora nods to her.
She takes her little clipboard and leaves the office. Sora and I just stood there for a moment, staring at her desk before sinking back into the chairs. Sora had to set his right side up first.
It's too quiet here, in this office, this hallway, this floor, this building. There's a sense of foreboding and tension. It feels like any disturbance in the sound level might cause some terrible accident. It's white everywhere too. I can't stand white. It's so bland and inanimate and it covers all the walls, doors, ceilings, and floors.
"What if she's right?" I finally spoke my deepest fear.
Sora looked at me, "Right about what?"
"That—what if he doesn't—what if he can't…get better?" It hurts to even speak it.
Sora narrowed his eyes stubbornly, "He will. He always does."
"What if this time is different? This isn't a cut or a bruise or even a broken bone. This is deeper." My voice breaks slightly.
Sora put his arm around me and held me close. It hurts. My heart hurts. I lost my two best friends once, and barely got them back in one piece. I swore I'd never let them put themselves in that kind of danger if I could help it. Now, I was on the verge of losing one of them all over again.
We stayed like that for several minutes, with nothing but the unusually loud ticks of the second hand on the clock making any noise. The door opened and Dr. Young walked back in. We both immediately sat up straighter, awaiting her decision.
"I talked to the other doctors. They said it will be okay for you to see him, but visiting hours end in half an hour and you'll have to stay outside the room." She didn't mean to sound harsh, but her words still hurt. We had to stay outside his room?
We both rose and followed her out. The blinding white of the corridor took us off guard but we kept right on her heels. Sora kept his hand clasped tightly around mine the whole time.
It was an unearthly quiet in the hallways. Several windows gave views into the rooms beyond, but there weren't as many doors. I can't help but let my gaze wander through the windows. The patients are all so vacant and shell faced.
They wear white uniforms and glazed expressions. They sit in chairs or on the floor or stand near the windows to the hall or the outside world. Just staring. A few are moving their lips or running their fingers over some of the objects in the room. A few even look up as we pass. They cannot see us. The window is only one way. They see only themselves, if they see anything at all.
A choking noise escapes me and I bite it back, not making eye contact when Sora looks at me with concern. He should know by now what's wrong. It's all so wrong.
We walked down the hallway and up two flights of stairs. With every step, my heart skips and my lungs burn. I'm both terrified and desperate now. The whiteness around us throws Sora's face into sharp relief. The bruise on his face is round and purple and black. He should have gone to the hospital, but he couldn't, not yet. Just like me, he had to know.
Dr. Young stopped outside a white, windowless door. She turned to us. "I just want to warn you. This isn't who you remember. He can't see or hear you and won't be able to respond at all to you. The glass prevents that, if nothing else prevents that."
This woman's tone is really starting to grate on my nerves. Sora and I just jerked our heads in acknowledgement and impatience. She nodded in defeat.
"Prepare yourselves."
She unlocked the door and walked through. We still follow her. This hallway isn't substantially different from the one we just left. It's all still white, although the windows are much larger here, and the views beyond are much more disturbing.
The patients in here are confined in empty, white rooms lined with foam or cushions. Many of them are restrained in jackets. Some are thrashing around, screaming mutely. Some are just sitting despondently in a corner, staring blankly. Some are rocking back and forth, muttering to themselves with their eyes closed.
This is a memory I will take to my grave. It still haunts my nightmares and torments me even in consciousness. He just kept telling us he wasn't crazy. We'd never truly not believed him and even now, we still thought there was a slim chance there had been a mistake. A wrong diagnoses or mixed up test results.
Dr. Young slows to a stop outside one of the windows. Sora and I stopped as well, though neither of us want to be the first to look inside. Which will it be? Thrashing and screaming? Sitting and staring? Rocking and muttering? None of them are comforting. This isn't made any easier by the doctor standing there watching us, almost like deciding if we were schizophrenic too. Just the word raises bile to my throat.
Together, Sora and I turned and looked into the room. It looks more like a cell. Pure white tiles on the ceiling and floor. The walls are white and coated with foam. At first I don't even see him. Then I do.
He's sitting against the left adjacent wall, staring across to the right wall. He's in one of those horrible jackets, but he isn't fighting it. He looks terrible!
His skin is pale and sallow. His hair is falling, matted and unkempt, over his shoulders and across his eyes. His eyes look hollow, sunken in dark circles and bloodshot from all the white surroundings. He looks weak and dazed. I remember it had taken one shot from the tazer and two shots of sedatives to tranquilize him.
"I'll leave you alone. You have twenty minutes." Dr. Young said and walked off.
I release my held breath and peer closer into the room. Why? Why had this happened? How? Why had it happened to him? Hadn't he been through enough?
Thunk. Sora dropped his head against the glass, staring through it at his friend. The sound must have carried, because the patient looks up.
He looks bewildered at first, staring at a point somewhere three feet to my right, with Sora on my left. His jaw's slack and gives him a blank, despondent look. Then, slowly, he starts to sit up more.
"It's us, me and Sora." I whisper, barely audible over the air conditioning.
I know he can't hear or see me or Sora, but he slowly manages to get to his feet. He walks over, swaying heavily and wavering off course from us to the left, but he knows someone's on the other side.
His lips are moving, but it's too fast for me to pick up.
"Hey, buddy." Sora's talking more to himself than to him. "You're gonna be fine, right? Those doctors, they don't know what they're talking about. Schizophrenia. I bet they made all that up. It's a sick joke if you ask me."
I bite my lip. He's squirming in the white jacket now, and he's breathing harder. He knows it's us and not doctors. He knows his friends are here, even if he can't see them. He's starting to look frantic and hot tears spring to my eyes fresh and resolved. I can't hold them back this time.
The bubbles of moisture overpower my eyelashes and fight down my cheek. I hate it. I hate that I cry and Sora doesn't. I sniff involuntarily and feel the tears drip from my jaw. Sora jerks suddenly and I look at him. He's wiping his eyes furiously, but I see how red his eyes are. It doesn't help my emotional self control at all.
As we stand on one side of the glass, breaking inside, he stands on the other, staring past us, through us, beyond us, not even at us. His mouth still moves very fast and his eyes are darting around now too. I think I can see my name formed on his lips a few times and Sora's as well.
I can't take it much longer. My tears are blurring my vision now and he's just a grayish blur. I wipe my eyes once fiercely and look back at him. He's leaned his forehead against the glass, staring through it, almost at me, but not quite. His lips' movements slow and now I can tell what he's saying.
"I'm not crazy." He keeps repeating it, over and over, incessantly.
I leaned my forehead against the glass where his is, "Riku."
He doesn't hear me. He just stares and repeats, "I'm not crazy."