Author's Notes: If you saw a story alert for this, nope, you are not hallucinating! I am actually back from the dead! Harhar. Relatively short chapter coming head with a long AN at the end.


My Dearest Morphine

Chapter 11: Punctured


There was something strange in his voice, something foreign that never flowed through his body before. There was a strange light in his eyes when he looked at me but the change was so subtle—or, at least, on the exterior—that I could not identify exactly what it was. He didn't seem at ease when he approached me and helped me up to the bed. I could see that part of him lingered on, still stuck on Kaho, while the other half moved on quickly.

"How long has it been?" I asked. I hoped wholeheartedly that it hasn't been more than a month. I had already neglected Rena before; if I ignored her calls and her brother's requests, I didn't think that anyone would be satisfied.

"About three months. Two months and twenty-eight days, actually."

I was left speechless, thousands of thoughts entering my brain at the same time. Three months? I had five appointments per day, five days per week. "I missed three hundred appointments?"

"I believe so," he answered casually, as if it was nothing grave.

It was extremely hard to suppress my anger but somehow, I managed it. I couldn't get angry at him; after all, it wasn't his fault that I was unconscious for that long. He couldn't have poisoned me to limbo, I laughed at the idea. But inside, I was aghast. Who paid the rent for my office, for my apartment? Were my patients alright? I—

"I need to go back," I said stubbornly. "Heal me better so that I can go back."

"You are in no condition to go anymore, Miss Daidouji."

The straightforwardness in his voice sent a chill down my spine. Only three months, he had been so kind, so gentleman-like. His politeness still remained but the coolness of his voice was simply intimidating, as if he hated me more than anything in the world. I shivered at the thought. Perhaps, he had the right to do so. I frowned and closed my eyes, attempting to calm my nerves. It was too soon to worry about everything that happened while I was asleep.

"Can't you heal me though? I'd feel much better," I asked for a favor. It should have been an easy task for a magician like him.

"I can't," he replied simply. A smile crept up his lips but it seemed so awkward that it seemed faked.

"Please," I began in a begging tone, "you are a powerful magician. Healing only takes concentration and a heart. I'm sure that you have both." I arched an eyebrow slightly at him. He certainly had concentration as I saw him cast spells before. Had he no heart?

"… Some people are simply not fit for healing." He rejected me again. I groaned in frustration.

"May I use your body as a vessel, then?" He gave me a slight nod in hesitation, as if I was going to harm him. "No, it's not going to hurt. It'll actually make you feel better too as you feel the energy flow. But you are going to feel a bit tired, nothing that some rest and food can't fix though."

I reached my arms and grasped both of his hands at the same time. He didn't welcome the physical contact at first but eventually his muscles softened and relaxed. Our bodies formed a complete circuit. The energy flowed abundantly through our bodies, recycling itself as it reached our hearts and our fingertips. Jolts of electricity sparked where our fingers met but he didn't withdraw. He seemed completely numb and somehow, that seemed to please him. I frowned at the thought but dismissed it immediately afterwards. Eriol Hiiragizawa couldn't be addicted to this, could he? I had one patient before who sought me only to relieve pain instead of healing. That was not what I did. I was supposed to heal people, change people for the better, not just serve as a physical form of morphine, as a pain suppressant.

The energy flow became more turbulent as each second passed. Soon, the electricity jolts were strong enough to heat up the room completely. Beads of sweat glided down his forehead from his hair but he didn't seem to mind. His eyes were completely closed and his scrunched face indicated perfect concentration. I let my mind wander elsewhere as I was already accustomed to these sort of energy transfers. I had done it with physically and emotionally weak patients before. This time, however, I was the one receive the energy, not giving it. Using my own therapy on myself felt strangely unfamiliar. I felt confident when I healed others but when I attempted to heal myself, the energy flow collided and slowly built into chaos. After perhaps a quarter of an hour, Mr. Hiiragizawa finally opened his eyes. His breath was heavy and fast, as if he was suffocating. He looked into my eyes in pain and indicated his suffering.

Immediately, I withdrew my hands and arms and sighed.

"Thank you. That felt good."

In return, he could barely mutter a "mhm", as if his tongue and mouth were still paralyzed and numbed by the physical therapy method.

I felt recharged, but not completely. Still, the feeling was satisfactory. My cheeks' normal warmth returned and my palms were saturated with red once again. I could move my fingers, toes, legs, arms, ankles, wrists and body with ease, although some parts still felt rusted. The final test came: I attempted to stand up. With much effort, I finally succeeded. It felt great to be weighted down by gravity and be able to stand up against it. It was a strange feeling, as if I had floated in vacuum before I stood up. The previous numbness in my legs disappeared instantly and I felt alive again. I tottered, clutching at the bookshelves, chair, and walls for support as I walked. But still, walking again felt simply invigorating.

I was a bit disappointed that Mr. Hiiragizawa did not acknowledge any of my efforts. With a thump, he fell backwards onto the bed, not caring if he had crushed something or if he had messed up his hair. He used to care before, I thought to myself. I hoped for the best that this change was beneficial to me. He had lowered his standards substantially; everything from living quarters to the food in the cabinet dropped in quality in at least three levels. Before, his house was filled with tiny pastries, like those you would see at exquisite dinner parties where each bite cost a fortune and were way too pretty and delicate to swallow; but now, he had no snacks at all except for the rotting apple sitting on the cutting board. I wondered why he had left it there.

"Do you work now, Mr. Hiiragizawa?" I asked curiously. If I remembered right, Kaho was the one who provided all financial support for him. She even admitted that the editors of the magazine and newspapers sometime took Mr. Hiiragizawa's articles only because she had paid them to. At the time, the thought of it was purely hilarious but now, it seemed so depressing. His writing, the one thing that he was genuinely proud of, was not taken seriously by others at all.

"I work in a flower shop."

Well, that was a humble job, I told myself. "Do you use magic to make the plants grow, like you made those plum blossoms grow, Mr. Hiiragizawa?"

"I'm not sure—I don't think so—I hope not. That would be cheating, wouldn't it?"

There was something disturbing about his hesitant statements. How could one not be aware that one is using magic? Magic didn't simply flow out of one's fingers. One had to concentrate and cast spells. I was sure that he had never considered magic a cheating tool before. We, people with magic, used it perhaps for granted, but we were gifted with it for a reason. Those of us who were willing to use it with consequences didn't follow any rules at all. Why was he questioning his motives?

"Are you feeling fine?" I asked, concerned.

He nodded in reply, as if so unsure that he could not pronounce his answer. I sensed something significantly wrong in his behavior but couldn't pinpoint it exactly.

"If I cannot go back alone, then will you come with me?" I asked. Again, he only shook his head in reply. Why was he so mute? Another groan of frustration came over me. "Why? I simply want to get my phonebook so that I can reach my patients and contact them. I will also leave you alone for the rest of your life, if you wish. I have burdened you for three months already; I wouldn't want to impose myself more on you. It'd be too much to ask. I would feel much more comfortable at home too." I paused to take a breath of air. Seeing no change in his expression, I sighed. "Please, Mr. Hiiragizawa."

"Call me Eriol," he said.

I arched an eyebrow in response. "Of course, Eriol. So is that yes or no?"

"I don't think that you'd be comfortable if you go back."

"Why?" I blinked in confusion.

"Because that apartment isn't yours anymore."

"Oh." I retracted from my position and leaned against the wall softly. A sudden fatigue and migraine conquered me. "Of course, you wouldn't pay my rent for me." My tone was not accusing but perhaps he took it the wrong. "I don't expect it. You don't seem to be very… financially adept right now."

"Indeed," he simply agreed.

"But really," I began again, probably touching one of his nerves of patience. "You can at least let me go get my phonebook from my office."

"I don't think that you'd want to go there."
"Well, I'm sure that, since you obviously haven't paid my rent for the office either, there must be a new owner there. But the owner wouldn't… throw everything that I possessed away. Perhaps the owner tried to contact me. I forgot my cell phone in the office. I could just go get it."

"No, that's not it," he sighed in exasperation. He finally shifted his body a little and sucked in a long breath of air, as if preparing for a long discourse. "Your office, actually, has been pronounced cursed."

"What?"

"Apparently one of your patients committed suicide," he looked at me straight in the eyes. I didn't know whether it was the terrifying news or his stare that scared me the most. "Her brother blamed it on you, saying that you caused the suicide because you treated his sister with utmost cruelty. It's actually a quite well-known story around town, more known that my divorce with Kaho. You shouldn't go out; I don't think that you would appreciate people's glare on your back. They think that you've killed her." He frowned at me in a questioning gaze. "I don't know what you actually did, but you do seem to be able to kill someone without much effort."

"Excuse me?" I exclaimed. Where did that come from? "I've never killed anyone in my life before! I—I—"

"Of course you have. You were born only because your mother killed others. You watched others being killed and showed no compassion for their torture. You killed Kaho. If it weren't for you, Kaho would be alive! And I, I wouldn't be like this! I would be in my mansion, writing, reading, and speaking calmly to Kaho." I was surprised that he managed to say so much, finally expressing what had been suppressed within him. So during this whole time, he had secretly hated me? Why keep me alive then, in his apartment? There had to be a reason.

"I'm sorry that I burst your bubble then," I spat, venom dripping from my voice. "I did not kill anyone. I couldn't do anything about my mother's killings either—besides, how do you even know about those?"

"I have connections with the magical community. Thoughts and words travel around faster than you'd think."

"Fine," I spat, "but my mother has nothing to do with me. I am done with her. I've erased all of her leftover sins. I am a good person now; I heal others for a living. I don't demand anything in exchange. I volunteered my time and services to you without any compensation and you accuse me of killing your wife? That's simply absurd," my voice did a crescendo after each word. My heart accelerated little by little and my wrath was so close to eruption. This man… this Eriol Hiiragizawa dared to accuse innocent me of committing countless sins? "It was your choice to come to me in the first place. I do not seek my patients."

"But it was your name who called out to me," he said stubbornly. Almost as he uttered those words, he could sense their stupidity and irrationality, but he did not back down.

"My name does not represent anything. My name merely contains two words. You can call me anything, anything at all. You can call me Kaho, and I'd still be the same person. That is a desperate excuse, Mr. Hiiragizawa."

A silence reigned over the room. I could hear his heavy breathing clearly, my heart racing faster as he drew in each breath.

"Do. Not. Insult. My. Wife's. Name. Ever. You. Cruel. Witch." Every word was enunciated with utmost clarity. A chill ran down my spine.

Before I could respond with a word or an action, I felt my back crash against the hard the floor. The carpet that I was disgusted at earlier was the only thing that prevented my skull from splitting into two. Eriol Hiiragizawa had shoved me on the hard floor with such a brute force that immediately, all the energy that I had gained earlier suddenly evanesced into thin air. I could have fallen into limbo once again but my conscious screamed loudly and refused to let me fall asleep again.

"Get. Out." He spoke in the same intimidating manner as before. "GET OUT!" That, that was an outburst, a simple outburst that was filled with nothing but absolute rage.

For the first time in my life, I was so scared that I could not move a centimeter. Even my chest was paralyzed… I could not breathe.

With all the force left in my body, I called forth enough strength to crawl weakly and slowly away from the fuming man.

"I… I'm sorry. I'm sorry to have caused you trouble for these three months, for everything, for your mansion, for Kaho—" I knew that these apologies wouldn't make anything better. But I had to try. I had no where to go.

"Just go…" His voice died down again.

Before he could utter another word, I crawled out of his apartment and shut the door. Relieved, I leaned against the corridor wall and sighed. My body ached more than ever and I felt a strange sensation overpower me. My heart wrenched in pain and my eyes stung. An unfamiliar salty liquid escaped my eyes. I touched it with my trembling fingers and blinked back in confusion. Were these… tears?

I dropped my head a bit backwards so that it hit the wall softly. For the first time in my life, the tears streaked down my cheeks like water fell in a chute.

I could not control these feelings, these strange feelings that overcame me as the most menacing image of his face appeared in my head. Not wanting to face him again, I could do nothing but slowly crawl away from his apartment. I did not know where I was but anywhere, I told myself, anywhere would be better than here. Silently, I prayed for someone to come and save me.


Author's Notes: WHAT? It's been eleven months since I've updated? *smashes head against the wall*

I swear, I had most of this chapter written already. I think that I waited because I wanted to continue the scene… who knows what I thought a year ago.

I even had to reread the last chapters and reviews to catch up where I was at with this story. Speaking of reviews, I just realized that I've done a crappy job at replying them. I usually don't put these in the actual chapters but since this one is so short, why the heck not.

SnowCharms – Kaho didn't have a will (yeah, I totally overlooked that, heh). But I honestly don't think that she'd have one because she wouldn't imagine herself dead in her late twenties.

Midnight Ghost - *blushes* thank you. I hope that you keep reading!

S – Kaho actually died in a car accident – her body was burned as an aftermath. Sorry if that was confusing. The last chapter was formatted very weirdly (fanfictionnet took out all of my quote marks). And yay, I'm glad that you agree with my thoughts on Kaho/Eriol.

tomoyo-amethyst – Oh dear, you must think that he's even more insane now!

boredjl – Tomoyo actually woke up in the last chapter. It's not exactly in chronological order because of the POV switch, heh.

twiinklestar – "5 months later" – oh gawd I did worse than that! :( But yes, Eriol is a very sadistic man. Writing his POV really cracks me up in the weirdest way sometime…

cheng – Yep, big change for him. It'll get better for him though. Won't torture him for that long… hehehe.

HyperMint – oh dear. It's funny that you mentioned Tomoyo as a witch and I used that exact insult in this chap… I swear, I wrote this a long time ago, haha. I think this chap kinda explains the title a bit more, where Tomoyo is compared to morphine.

James Birdsong – Thank you! (Ohmygosh, a guy reviewing this? Gasppp)

(Oh and I just noticed that Pinboo is reading this. My bad I didn't notice earlier – I suck at remembering pen-names. But dude, you are the God of ET. I seriously worship you.)