I was conscious the entire time it happened. From when Ryou had the key to his head, to when I was kicked off Shadi. Shadi. He ruined everything. I had finally had someone, someone I could talk with, play with, I could touch him. Even if I couldn't feel him. I was happy. And it was all ripped away from me.
The feeling when it happened. Like something snapped, fizzled, cracked, and vanished. It was the first time I had been able to feel, and it was painful. Something inside us broke. I can't find our connection anymore. I can still use his body, but we aren't together anymore.
Shadi separated us somehow. He went inside the soul of Ryou, and cut me off from him. What I did in return was justified. It was alright. It isn't my fault. Shadi deserved it. He deserved to be killed. To be stabbed repeatedly, sliced open, and suffering. He didn't scream during the ordeal. He was shocked, of course, but the only sounds I heard were wimpers, gasps, and occasional sobs. Like he was trying to keep quiet.
There was blood all over our hands, arms, and clothes. His mom was horrified when she saw us, But she didn't say anything. She just took us home, helped us get clean, and put us to bed. There was a massive bruise forming on the side of our body, near the lower left rib, from when Shadi's older kid kicked us. A mighty kick it was. Shadi couldn't push us off despite being three times our size, but a kid barely older than us had no problem with it.
I wasn't in Ryou's body anymore. He was fast asleep, completely unaware of what happened. I plan to keep it that way. He likely won't see Diva or the other guy again, that's fine. That's what's best. This is what's best for us.
I stare at Ryou's sleeping face, tracing over his features, taking in everything that's happened. I need to figure out a way to communicate with Ryou. I could write to him, but my handwriting is awful. I wonder if I could use a ouija board. It'd be interesting, but Ryou would need to be more into ghosts to get one.
I bury my face in my hands. I hate this situation. I hate that Ryou and I aren't connected anymore. I hate that all of this could've been avoided if Ryou just listened to me. But what can you do? Ryou is just like that. Eager to be friends with anyone and everyone. Like an overly friendly cat.
The sound of footsteps resonates softly from the hallway. The door to Ryou's room opens, and his mom peaks her head in, a concerned expression was evident on her face. She walked in and sat on Ryou's bed, leaning over to brush his bangs behind his ear.
"Ryou," her voice wavered slightly, " I won't ask what happened, I don't think you'd want to remember. I still love you, but I am worried. I'll see if I can figure something out for us. I don't think we can stay here." She gave him a small kiss under his eye, and left the room.
When Ryou awoke the next day, his mom was sitting at the coffee table looking at a computer and drinking tea. His little sister, Amane, was messing with plastic blocks in the living room. After saying a pleasant good morning, he sat down next to his sister and immediately knocked down her block tower.
Tears began to well up in Amane's eyes and her lips began to quiver.
Why did you do that? No answer came. Only tiny snickers as Ryou got and walked to the fridge. He pulled out a milk carton while his mom went to console her daughter.
"Ryou, why'd you do that?" she chastised lightly.
While he was pouring himself a glass of milk, Ryou smirked and responded with a playful "Funny."
His mom shook her head with a sigh and put Amane back on the ground when her fit ended. I guess she really isn't going to bring up yesterday. Ryou pranced over to her computer, milk still in hand. "What are you doing mama?" He asked, "I thought you didn't have work on sundays."
"I don't," she responded, "But something came up and I think it'd be best if we moved closer to your grandparents."
Ryou gave her a confused look, "Don't they live on the other side of the world?"
"Yes, but you'll adjust. Papa has a museum there as well, and he visits it far more often than the one here. So we'll see him more often."
At the mention of seeing his dad on a more regular occasion, Ryou's eyes brightened and he hopped around for a bit. He set his cup on the table and sat on the couch next to his mom.
"I want to help!" he exclaimed rather excitedly. He was swaying, and bouncing in his seat. He's so precious.
His mom gave him a smile and shifted the computer so they could both see the screen. An image of a large apartment met our eyes. It wasn't very interesting. Just a white building with lots of windows. Ryou was equally disinterested. The interior wasn't even interesting either. It looked a lot more cramped than our current house. Ryou expressed a similar distaste and his mom switched to a different place.
This one was also an apartment, but the outside was black. The inside was admittedly better, less crowded, nicer colors, and it had more rooms. The problem was that it was too expensive, and wasn't exactly in an ideal area. Not exactly a lot of modes of transportation.
This process continued for a bit. Sometimes we'd see a house, apartment, condo, whatever and it was either nice but expensive, or ugly yet affordable. This was impossible. With a sigh, his mom turned the computer off. Clearly she had given up.
"I'll just get papa to help," she whined, "he should be back in a week." She got off the couch and went to play with Amane.
Ryou finished his milk, and went back to his room. He looked around for a bit before sitting at his desk and pulling out a sheet of paper and a pencil.
What are you going to draw? There was no response. Why would there? Disappointment washed over me. I really can't talk to him. Ryou began to sketch a few lines. They curved and spun around before connecting. The sound of his pencil gliding softly along the paper while comforting, didn't do much to help my newly found upsetting silence.
I can't go on like this. I need to talk to someone. I need to talk to Ryou. I should have been more careful. I should have been more stern. I should have actually explained my situation with Shadi and his fucking cult. Ryou would have listened then.
I bury my face in my hands. Could all of this been avoided if Ryou had more friends? I shake that thought from my head. It all still would have. It might have caused a delay, but it would have still happened.
As Ryou continued to sketch, I placed my arms above his own. I followed each and every movement, from slight to abrupt, and slipped myself inside of his skin.
Writing seems to be the only option I have to make him know I exist.