I do not own Beyblade…

-oO08( Nine Days Waiting for the Sun )80Oo-

by Kiray Himawari

Chapter III Day three; Every Suffering is Trace of Life

My head was spinning and my vision was blurry, I suppose it was because of the anesthesia. Now the pain was something different; it was not as sharp as the pain in the past days, it was like if that pain was a relief. In some point in that moment I believed that all the suffering was over, that life was going to be ok; and how wrong I was. I started to take notice of my surrounding; white walls, white sheets, white chairs, a white sofa, white bandages… even my clothes were white now. Some memories of the past started to come back as my heart began to beat faster.

I think I felt panic or terror, I do not understand the difference between them very well, but I know that it doesn't matter because my heart ached, just as my soul. The smell of death was everywhere and the sensation of the end was starting to become harder and harder; I was going to die there, in a hospital. As my brain tried to take control over my feelings I heard a cry. It was the cry of a child, I suppose, but that sound began to pierce my timpani. I knew that cry because time ago I cried in the same way, it was just like a lonely boy who is looking for his parents who were killed for an accursed accident.

But they did not die in an accursed accident, I am conscious of what had happened to my parents to not be with me in my childhood and that reason is as simple as the fact of humidity when it rains; they left me behind because I was not supposed to born it that moment of their lives. I remember Grandfather telling me the truth, and I have to admit that I called him a liar because I refused to believe in his word. As time passed I learnt that sometime life is never fair, but that didn't stop me then, just… Why now? I learnt no to feel hate for them, I don't hate or loath them, they simply mean nothing to me. On the other hand, my Grandfather is a figure that I respect even if he was not the type of grandfather that hugs you or tells you stories before going to bed, I love him because he was there for me, just for me.

Sometimes all people ask themselves why I "defended" him in the trial, and I have to say the truth always and it is that I love him and that I have nothing against him; he gave me education, a roof to be warm and a figure of authority, what more did I need to ask? At the end he had to go to prison because of financing illegal experiments, I am not aware of what they were talking about and it doesn't matter. My heart continued beating faster and faster and the beep of the machine was following the rhythm. A nurse came quickly just to see me awake. Immediately she yelled at someone to come to help her I did not know why until the air was lacking in my lungs.

I was desperate because I could not breathe and my eyes were wide open while my pupils were changing and my vision become blur. That pain came back, I just could feel how my body turned limp and the darkness wrapped me again. My mind was blank, I could feel or think nothing, like a child that doesn't know what to do in an adult meeting. When I opened my eyes again I saw a familiar face, he was smiling between concerned and happy. Why didn't he give up?

I am the kind of person who shows hostility, rudeness, sharpness and all those things that people hate, but there he was, he was always there and I cannot just accept it. I cannot accept that he pities me; pity is for weak ones. I am not weak, I am not weak, I am not… I am sorry, the rage built up suddenly, I don't know why the thought of being weak scares me that much and why I am so frightened of death, because it is not natural to me.

To be honest I am hurt, but I don't know why. People always say that pain is trace of life, but I think that maybe pain should not exist.

~oO080Oo~

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