"I do not want to be here," I announce, crossing my arms stubbornly over my chest.
"But you are." Dr Ueda says passively. Just look smug damn you. I purposely missed my appointment last night. I didn't want to see him anymore after my week of pain and haunting dreams.
"My Grandad phoned and said I had to see you, happy?" I snap.
"I am happy you have come to see me Miki, less pleased that it's under duress." He looks a little disappointed. Damn him, this would be a lot easier if he acted more like my enemy.
"Could I ask why you didn't want to see me?" He inquires, using his normal trick of testing the water.
"You're not a teacher are you?" I ask, looking up at him. "You can't give me a detention?"
"I cannot, bu-"
I don't give him a chance to finish, instead I explode with a verbal out pouring that can only come from lack of sleep, a ghost hand and a mother who does not stop you watching late night television. I tell him about my dreams and my hand, making it clear beyond any doubt that these problems are entirely his fault.
Throughout my verbal assault he keeps up his calm and measured demeanour, nodding every now and then and even adding a few notes to a pad laying on his lap. At last I'm finished, laying back in the sofa I watch him intently.
"I can only apologise Miki," he looks truly apologetic as well. Damm him. "Your grandfather made clear to me your wish to remember the details of the accident yourself".
"What you spoke with him?" A hand is held up, silencing me.
"Please listen for the moment Miki, then you may ask me anything you like," He takes a long steady breathe. "I showed you a picture last week in the hope it may have rekindled some of your memories, which as you mention has happened. However, I fear that giving you such limited information has had a detrimental effect."
I nod slowly. For the last week I have been under the impression he showed me the picture as a kinda torture, to punish me for something I don't know i've done. Now it turns out my repeated dreams are a product of my own stubbiness.
"I would like to share with you the details the police managed to gather for themselves, my hope is that a clearer understanding of what has happened will help you more than vague reminders." I don't know how to react. He's right these hazy and painful dreams can't continue, I will go mad with lack of sleep.
"Okay," I say simply, bracing myself.
"If at any point it gets to much you are free to stop me and we will end this appointment immediately, Okay?" He gives me a sympathetic look. I nod once, my eyes flicker to the door.
"You were involved in a car crash, a black pickup truck hit a row of parked cars causing the truck to roll several times," He stops for a moment, waiting for any kind of response. I feel the bile rise to the back of my throat but say nothing.
"When the police arrived they found you unresponsive with your hand pinned under the vehicle," He lets this sink in. "They also found the young man whose photo I showed you, his name was Tatsuo Takahashi and I'm afraid he was declared dead at the scene."
I know that name, at least I think I do. It sounds very familiar. I rack my brain for any detail I might have overlooked. It's almost as if the harder I try and remember the further away the memories become. I have a name and a face, but nothing in-between.
"Anything… else?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady. Am I the reason this boy is dead?
"Yes, unfortunately neither of you were wearing seat belts, as a result you were found in such a position that either of you could have been driving," He takes a long steadying breath. "Normal practice in this situation is to test the steering wheel for fingerprints, unfortunately they found both yours and Mr Takahashi's prints."
What does that mean? It can't have been me. Can it? Why would this Tatsuo let me drive his truck? I don't even know how to drive. Perhaps I distracted him, but I don't even know why I would have gotten into his car in the first place.
"I… I'm sorry, I need some air." I get up walking unsteadily to the door, the doctor seems to expect this and makes no effort to stop me. Bursting out into the warm afternoon sun I struggle to take deep enough breathes. Too many thoughts are flying around in my mind, I feel dizzy.
I collapse onto the grass outside the medical centre, my left hand itching madly. I grind my teeth, forcing my stump into my lap. My bag buzzes, retrieving my phone discover a text message from Ryouta.
[Smart-arse]: "Come to my room 134 you don't want to miss this! =D"
It's stupid, I have more important things to be thinking about than whatever surprise Ryouta has in store. But I don't want to think about anything that has just happened. If that makes me a coward then so be it. I need a distraction.
Still wobbly on my feet I walk into the boys dormitories. I've never been inside before, the whole building has the faint smell of a locker room. I count the room numbers as I pass 132, 133 and aha 134. I knock on the door, thankfully remembering to use my right hand today.
"Its open!" Ryouta yells from inside.
I compose my face before I open the door, there is no reason for him to be worried. To my surprise my plump friend is not alone, sitting on his bed is Ikuno, looking quite out of place in her immaculate school uniform.
"Did a bomb go off in here?" I ask looking around with raised eyebrows. The floor is covered in clothes, books, DVD cases and is that a pizza box? Ewwwww. The walls are decorated in English movie posters and his desk is completely overtaken by a large television set. This would explain the constantly late homework.
"How rude! This is just what a well loved and lived in room looks like." Ryouta grins at me, behind him Ikuno rolls her eyes.
"You should clear up if you expect guests," Ikuro states matter of factly, she rummages in her bag and pulls out a small black case. I have seen her do this a few times, but it's always fascinating to watch. She deftly unpacks her supplies and with practiced motions sterilises then pricks her finger. Squeezing a drop of blood onto a digital tester she waits for the results.
"All good?" Ryouta asks. Ikuno nods, blushing slightly as she realises we were watching. Diabetes looks like a pain to manage, but my blue eyed friend takes it all in her stride.
"So dare I ask why you wanted to see me?" I ask Ryouta, who smiles delightedly, handing me a DVD case.
"What's a 'Pump futon'?" I ask, both of them burst into laughter.
"It's Pulp Fiction, your English is terrible," Ryouta sniggers. I cross my arms over my chest.
"It's an American movie Miki," Ikuno points out quickly, thankfully not laughing at me. "It's really good."
"See I had to wait for one with Japanese subtitles for the slower children in the class," Ryouta nods at me, opening the case one handed and striding over to me, I sit down on the bed beside Ikuno, rolling my eyes.
"You like all this English stuff too?" I ask her, she shrugs.
"I spent quite a bit of time with my cousins from New york," she pauses for a moment, her nose scrunched up in a disgruntled frown. "They were never really interested in learning Japanese, so everything we did together was in English."
"Shhh you two, it's starting," Ryouta settles himself beside me.
— — —
The movie is a little boring if I'm honest, I don't really get what's going on. My two companions seem to be really into it though, perhaps something gets lost in translation. I watch absent mindedly, letting my thoughts wander. Perhaps he just let me sit behind the wheel? That would explain the fingerprints. All of a sudden there's the screech of tyres as two onscreen cars smash into each other.
"I have to go," I stand up, not looking at the others. "Homework." I say simply, its a bad excuse. I leave before they have a chance to offer much protest, Ignoring whatever they try and say to me. I practically run back to my room. So this is life now? A movie will be enough to make me feel sick to my stomach and drive me away from my friends.
Fumbling with my key I burst into my room, slamming the door behind me. Throwing myself on top of the bedclothes I hug my stump to my chest, Face pressed into a pillow I sob, The first stab of pain racks through my non existent hand and into my chest. I stay whimpering into my pillow until the room grows dark.
"Miki, can I come in?" Ikuno asks from the door, I say nothing. She's known me less than a week and now look at me. I'm a mess. The door creaks open and I feel the bed sink beside me, her hand rests gently on my shoulder. My instinct is to shrug her off, but I don't.
"Is the reason you're here, something… Something to do with a car crash?" I roll over quickly, looking up at her.
"How did you know?" I ask, voice croaky.
"You left at that part of the movie."
We sit in silence for what feels like a long time. Ikuno gently strokes my arm, she's still here. I'm confused. I can't understand why she's still here, why she still cares. But it feels nice. I realise I've told her hardly anything about myself, her or Ryouta. That has to change. What did grandfather tell me? Friendship is a two way street.
Slowly, very slowly I tell her about what I learned today. I tell her someone died in the car crash that took my hand. I tell her I can't remember all of the details and how I'm in an uphill struggle with my own mind. She just nods. I half expect her to get up and leave.
"I'm sorry…" she trails off, this is the part where she leaves.I know it. "I've not been a very good friend, I stayed watching the movie, I should have been with you." She looks away from me, her cheeks red.
"Hey, hey this isn't on you," I try and smile, but fail. "Just something I need to deal with."
"But you don't want to do it alone, do you?" Ikuno turns those bottomless sapphire eyes on me.
"I never really thought I had a choice." I say.
"I will be here for you, if you want me," she smiles softly. "I think Ryouta will be as well, if you let him." I sit up in bed, hugging my arm to my chest. I can still feel my left hand, but for once it doesn't hurt. Its content.
"So do you really have homework to do?" Ikuno asks, eyes wondering to my desk.
"Maths, but it sucks" I grimace, Ikuno giggles.
"I will go get my textbook, this is something I can definitely help with!" I laugh as she hurries out of the room. So much has happened my first week. I slip out of my uniform, pulling on a comfortable old tshirt and pyjama bottoms. I know remembering what happened is going to be hard, filling in the gaps in my memory feels like a impossible task. But at least I won't have to do it alone.