《The Girl On The Park Bench》 1 - Who Called My Name Soft lips blessed my cheek with a tender kiss as a voice cried out, ¡°AKANE!¡± The voice exploded in my ear like a thundercrack. My eyes jerked open upon impact and gazed up at the ceiling in a daze. I rubbed rough crumbs of sleep from them as my heart beat a brutal tattoo. Sweat-soaked sheets clung like a lover to my bare legs. The muscles of my thighs twitched as a shivery thrill raced up them. It was just a dream, I thought in an attempt to slow the painful percussion, But what was the rest of it? The air was rancid with sweat, but an undercurrent that lingered. Another aroma teased my nose. It was sweet and citrusy, but I couldn¡¯t quite identify the scent. My cheek tingled from the sensation of the dreamt kiss. How could it feel so real? The thought was stupid. Foolish. I had never experienced the real thing. A sigh slipped through my hungry lips, as I thought, No one has ever called my name like that. Dim blue light danced mockingly in the corner of my eyes. I bolted upright and barely managed to bite back a curse. ¡°Ugh. I forgot to charge my phone again.¡± I muttered to myself while snatching up the device. ¡°At least it¡¯s not cracked. 3:43 am. 3% charge.¡± With a disgusted groan, I kicked away my clammy sheets. AKANE still echoed in my thoughts. Adrenaline pumped through my veins despite my desire to sleep. My bare feet found the cool floor and I staggered upright. Cool night air wrapped around my thighs. I shouldn¡¯t have taken on those extra shifts. Shin splints pulsed up and down my calves as my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. I leaned over cautiously and fumbled around desperately for my phone¡¯s charger. A worried voice crept in from outside my door. ¡°Are you okay Akane?¡± it asked as the door slowly creaked open, ¡°Do you need anything?¡± ¡°Sato-san! I¡¯m not dressed!¡± I exclaimed as I leapt across the room in a single, manic bound and threw my body against the door. It slammed shut like a gun blast. ¡°Sorry,¡± whined Natsumi Sato. Her voice turned coy as she teased, ¡°Sleeping in the buff, eh?¡± My hand involuntarily smacked my forehead. This girl. Again and again. ¡°I¡¯m okay. Sorry for waking you,¡± I apologized tersely. ¡°Akane?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°You called me Sato again. Use my given name.¡± She sounded exactly like an excitable puppy begging for a treat. I forced a rising groan down and granted her wish, ¡°I¡¯m sorry Natsumi.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± trilled my incorrigible roommate. ¡°I¡¯ll try to go back to sleep,¡± I said, desperately trying to keep my tone even, but my heart was happily fighting back. Why does her voice do this to me? ¡°Thank you for checking on me,¡± I gushed. The words slipped out far more emotionally than I had intended. ¡°Of course! Anything for my beloved Akane,¡± replied Natsumi in that teasing, sing-song voice that I knew all too well. As she tip-toed away I slumped against the door. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you Akane?¡± I mumbled while the voice from my dream echoed in my thoughts. The kiss still tingled on my cheek. Maybe¡­no. I forced the thought down like bitter medicine and pushed myself back on my feet. Whatever. She¡¯s just a gyaru tease. The thought stopped me dead in my tracks. That¡¯s unfair. Clearing my head seemed pointless. My sheets were foul, drenched in cold sweat. I knelt on the floor, folded them up, and left them on the foot of my futon. I¡¯ll put them out to dry after the sun rises, maybe I¡¯ll have a chance to wash them tomorrow, I thought while knowing full well Natsumi would leap at the opportunity to aid me. My stomach dropped at the image of her happily handling my laundry. It had been two years since we became roommates. She never turned me down. How long until? A chill tingled down my spine. That would never happen. ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯m not falling back asleep,¡± I sighed as I threw on a pair of reasonably clean shorts. A foul stench punched my nostrils as I lifted my arms overhead to pull on a shirt. ¡°Wonderful I need to shower.¡± The beginning of a headache tapped at both temples. Once dressed, I gently eased the door open. My stomach tensed up as it let out a creak. Thankfully, Natsumi was a famously sound sleeper. It¡¯s not an exaggeration either, but I had to wonder how she had known to come to my door just now. A lock would be nice. The balls of my feet barely kissed the ground as I tiptoed towards the bathroom and hastily shut that wonderfully silent door behind me. A splash of cold water failed to slow my racing thoughts. The bleary reflection of a chubby young woman gazed at me solemnly. Even without my glasses, I could see the haunting aspect ingrained in her visage. ¡°Apple, apple, head like an apple.¡± The words spilled out unconsciously and caught me by surprise. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Nothing could ever make me forget that taunting refrain from my childhood. When my face burned with humiliation they found fresh barbs to hurl. Plum, plum, she looks like a plum. My reflection blurred as hot tears welled up. If only it had just been words. I could have lived with that. The pokes, prods, and pinches came next, needling acts to turn the stout apple red. A dozen little taunting fingers became hands that slapped and fists that struck. Apple, apple, why are you crying? Twin tears streamed down my cheeks and kissed my lips with salted hate. The fists became sticks that smashed and bruised. AKANE, the voice roared, Are you okay? Stop! Stop it! You¡¯re hurting her! Shocked by the memory I froze in place and realized that my hands were squeezing the sink so fiercely that my knuckles burst white. Silent sobs continued to rattle through my aching chest. Kimura-san, I recalled as I desperately fought back against them, That¡¯s right¡­Fumiko had stopped them. Her image flashed before me in perfect clarity. Perfect Fumiko Kimura with silky-straight midnight hair and eyes that never ceased to shine. Long ago she had heard my cries and blitzed over like an enraged tiger. Her fury evaporated in an instant once I was safe. Her porcelain hands gracefully guided me up and wiped away my tears. Did I ever thank her? The thought triggered a senseless chuckle. I stretched one tear-soaked finger toward that pitiful figure in the mirror. Maybe she¡¯d lift me up again. The mirror was frigid to the touch, a gnawing, hungry cold. I tried to pull back, but my finger remained frozen in place. A second, violent jerk pulled my hand back, but the mirror warped askew as it continued to cling to my fingertip. As I pulled back further and further it stretched and distorted more and more until my trembling back brushed up against the bathroom door. Without warning the mirror snapped back like a broken rubber band and rippled under the impact. For what seemed like an eternity I stood there dazed. The mirror looked unchanged. Finally filled with the courage of the brazenly dense I reached out once more and poked the mirror. Nothing happened. Great. Now I¡¯m hallucinating. Am I really that sleep-deprived? A great weight seemed to bear down on me. My limbs ached. My bones felt heavy. With great effort, I managed to wash my face clean with blessed hot water and limp back into bed. A much-needed shower would have to wait. The last thought to stumble through my mind before the darkness came was a desperate prayer for dreamless sleep. Someone, somewhere cried out in words I couldn¡¯t understand. Thump. Where are you? Thump. I sniffed at the air nervously. Thump. An acrid stench hung in it. Thump. Fire. Wait, fire?! Thump. A word cut through. Thump. I know that word? Thump. The next cry stole my precious sleep, and I bolted upright. ¡°Sato-san?! Turn that music down!¡± I shouted so violently that the words scratched up my throat and I rushed out of my bedroom to find that detestable gyaru grinning devilishly at me. ¡°Akane! Good morning,¡± she sang out in a falsetto while whisking away merrily at a bowl filled with a strange, yellow concoction. The sight of the mucous-like mixture brought a sneer to my face. As easily as a snake sheds its skin Natsumi shifted into a pout and asked, ¡°Did I wake you?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that!¡± I barked while dashing around the corner toward her precious stereo. ¡°What if the neighbors complain? Again?!¡± My clammy fingers wrapped around the power cord and yanked the plug free without a second to spare and sweet silence blessed our apartment. ¡°You know, you could have just turned it off,¡± she laughed. Nothing ever disturbed her. I couldn¡¯t respond coherently to her carelessness. Unable to think, I stared at the unfathomably dense young woman that some fool named Akane had made my roommate. Calculations justifying the strictly financial decision flashed through my head and I sighed in self-defeat. Desperate to fill the void I muttered, ¡°What stinks?¡± ¡°I¡¯m making omelets!¡± she answered joyfully. Her bottle-blonde hair seemingly shimmered as she spoke. ¡°First I cut up the filling, red bell peppers, mushrooms, and green onions. Then I decided it would be best if I sauteed the peppers and mushrooms and I did think about the onions but decided against it. Red or yellow onions would be good for it, but I don¡¯t feel the same way about green onions. Anyway, I threw them on the stove, but everything was so quiet I couldn¡¯t take it anymore and you weren¡¯t up to talk to, silly sleepyhead, so I decided to put some music on. I had just started whisking the eggs when you scared me half to death with your yelling, but don¡¯t worry your breakfast will be ready soon. And it. Will. Be. Delicious.¡± The sudden verbal onslaught reduced me to a void, an empty husk, an absolute shell of a person detached completely from any semblance of reality. It felt as if I was hovering overhead watching someone else stand statuesque while a beaming would-be housewife berated their complete and utter lack of appreciation. I should be used to her energy by now. The thought came out slow as sludge. Then it hit me all at once. The stench of oil-soaked vegetables simmering. The sound of eggs crying out in horror as they hit a piping-hot pan, the unbelievably detestable odor of bacon frying in a fatty pool of its own making. My stomach turned and lurched the worst possible response out of me before common sense could save my soul. ¡°I¡¯m not hungry.¡± Natsumi¡¯s eyes narrowed into predatory slits that could send battle-hardened men into instantaneous panic. She fixed her cruel gaze on me. Oh, that¡¯s right, I forgot she could do that, said a panicked voice in my head. Her usually bubbly voice cut through the air like a freshly sharpened blade. Goosebumps leapt awake across my body from head to toe. ¡°What did you say?¡± I¡¯d like to think I replied coherently, but in all truth, the only response I probably managed was a long wheeze similar to that of a deflating balloon. ¡°I thought so,¡± she continued in that eerie sing-song, ¡°It will be ready soon, my dear Akane, but you should take a shower first. You stink.¡± Defeated by her starry smile I slumped towards the bathroom. In two years Natsumi had never turned me down. The reverse was also true. Truly, I am a prisoner of my own design, I thought as steaming hot water rained down. 2 - The Girl On The Park Bench Breakfast had been flavorful. Try as I might, I couldn¡¯t deny that fact. A demon born of salt and fat ached in my bowels, they begged for the sweet release of expulsion. My gaze drifted towards the spidery fingers of my hands and their calloused knuckles. Natsumi would hear. You promised to stop. Apple, apple, round like an apple. Not one coherent thought went through my mind as my feet stumbled onto the scale and found a truth I couldn¡¯t ignore. ¡°I¡¯ll skip lunch,¡± I promised aloud. It was a lie. They came easier each time. A sudden knock at my door spun me around and I asked, ¡°Sa- Natsumi, are you ready to go?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± trilled that accursed gyaru. ¡°One second.¡± She can¡¯t know about the scale. Ever. I hid it away in a dark corner and hoisted a backpack over my shoulders. The straps bit into my bony shoulders, but it was a punishment I could bear, for now. Nervously, I eased the creaking door open only to be greeted by Natsumi¡¯s smirk and vaguely floral odor that stung my eyes. Her expression turned dour immediately. ¡°You¡¯re wearing that?¡± she asked as her bright eyes studied my outfit. Her tone made it obvious that she did not approve of my dark blue jeans and charcoal-gray button-down. Natsumi sighed dismissively, ¡°It¡¯s so drab.¡± My shoulders shrugged all on their own. ¡°So?¡± She crossed her arms over an oversized baseball jersey. It was red and white. I didn¡¯t recognize the logo. That knowledge lay well outside my interests. ¡°I¡¯ll never understand why you hide your legs,¡± she sighed as she brushed her golden bangs to one side and cocked her hips from side to side. Natsumi was adamantly opposed to wearing anything other than questionably short skirts or shorts. Hiding those perfectly tanned and toned legs would be a crime against humanity. Her words, not mine. Only a vestige of artfully torn jean shorts peaked out from underneath her jersey. ¡°You know I get cold easily,¡± I countered. ¡°Because you¡¯re too skinny,¡± she announced as she poked me with one immaculately manicured nail painted ombre red. Her finger may have struck my chest like a dart but the insult stirred my heart like a rising sun. She spun around and strolled away as her twin tails bounced with each step. I floated behind her, oblivious to every second of our usual morning trek until we were safely aboard our train. The subtle stench of warm bodies wedged against each other like sardines floated up and into my nostrils. A demon that refused to be ignored growled in my gut as I felt a slender arm wrap around my waist. Its fingers squeezed into my hip. Natsumi¡¯s soft voice burned against my ear, sending the delicate hairs into a frenzy. ¡°It¡¯s crowded today,¡± she purred as I felt my cheeks flush hot. My eyes latched onto a narrow strip of open floor as her playful laughter clinked like glasses. A slender finger tucked a loose strand of hair behind my beet-red ear. Surely it was hers because every muscle in my body was locked firmly in place. ¡°I¡¯ll protect you,¡± whispered Natsumi. The scent of her floral perfume flooded my nostrils as she inched closer. It felt like my entire body had seized tight, but I managed a reply. ¡°T-thanks.¡± My neck strained against what felt like a mountain crashing down. I met her gaze for a split second, just in time to see a hint of color rising in her cheeks, but the sight was too much for my throbbing heart to handle. ¡°Sorry,¡± she mumbled uncharacteristically, but her hand remained firmly entrenched on my hip. Her fingernails dug in ever-so-slightly, just enough to sting. I think I liked it. ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± was the best my vacant brain could manage as I gazed aimlessly into the crowd. She had been correct about the crowd. It was a rare thing for our morning commutes to be disrupted by such a horde. A glance at my phone told me we weren¡¯t running late for classes despite a remarkably busy morning. The weird were asleep or, at the very least, had the common courtesy to hide their faces from those ordinary souls afflicted with the curse called ¡®routine¡¯. If there was an oddity, it was hidden behind sleepy-eyed salarymen, put-upon office ladies, and energetic students not yet resigned to life¡¯s monotony. Against this backdrop of mundanity towered a woman in a long black dress. Her appearance caught me off guard and I wondered how I hadn''t noticed her before. Her height was notable at a glance, even from across the passenger car. She stood at least half a head taller than the nearest man. A wide-brimmed hat, akin to a crown, rested upon her head. It was a hungry black that devoured all nearby light. The shade contrasted brilliantly with the lily-white skin of her bare neck. Is she dressed for a funeral? I wondered as I unabashedly continued to stare at her. The woman exposed her profile to me as she turned to the side and I was disappointed to see that her features were obscured behind a long veil, but it was clear that she clutched something to her chest. Could it be a child? Surely not. ¡°Ubume.¡± The word fell from my mouth unknowingly. A firm hand squeezed me harder and Natsumi broke into my quiet world. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Say something, Akane?¡± she asked in a murmur that rippled against my ear. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing,¡± I replied but compulsion forced me to explain, ¡°I noticed a woman that reminded me of a story.¡± Natsumi chuckled softly as she somehow managed to shift even closer to me. She draped her arms recklessly over my shoulders and leaned in. ¡°Not a lewd one, I hope.¡± I pulled a face that she thankfully couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Of course not.¡± ¡°Well then, tell me the story.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure of all the details. It¡¯s an old legend. It varies from story to story.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to defend yourself,¡± replied Natsumi. Her hot breath caressed my neck like a lover¡¯s fingers. ¡°I know that!¡± I shouted vigorously enough to turn half a dozen heads in our direction. Eyes beyond counting cursed me with disgusting glances before thankfully turning away. ¡°Careful,¡± teased that wretched gyaru, ¡°You might find that you like the attention.¡± I ignored her and continued, ¡°Most of the tales I know are about a passerby encountering a woman holding a child. The woman always insists that the passerby take the child. If they refuse, the woman kills them.¡± ¡°Kills who? The child?¡± ¡°No, the passerby and if they take the child it grows so heavy they can¡¯t hold it and the woman vanishes. They look down and realize that the child is a boulder. Or rocks or whatever.¡± I finished the explanation with a shrug of my shoulders that failed to drive Natsumi away. ¡°What a weird story. Who told you about this?¡± she wondered as she wrapped her arms around my stomach and pulled me close. Words can not describe how grateful I was to have a backpack between us. ¡°My brother was playing some game about yokai and became obsessed with them. And-¡± Natsumi cut me off before I could finish my explanation. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you still talked to your family.¡± Her voice was a growl. Why wouldn¡¯t I? The words almost came out before I remembered. My parents didn¡¯t talk to me. Only my brother kept in touch and those conversations were rare. I couldn¡¯t recall what happened, there was surely a reason. I stared down the passenger car silently and knew that the woman in black stared back. ¡°Sorry,¡± said Natsumi listlessly, ¡°I know that¡¯s a sore spot.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± My reply was a barely audible mutter. I gazed into nothingness, ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Her hands released me, her nails grazed against my stomach as they departed, but she remained close. For a split second her fingers brushed against mine. They escaped before I could grasp them tight. She didn¡¯t notice. We passed the rest of our short ride in silence. A few minutes after exiting the station Natsumi surrendered to the urges of her soul and cut through the silence with a sudden shout. ¡°Akane!¡± I froze midstep at the sound of my name. ¡°Ha!¡± she laughed, ¡°You look like a flamingo!¡± Without a word, I shook my head and strode past her. Each footfall thundered against the sidewalk. It was unnecessary to turn around. I already knew exactly what she was doing at the moment. Her face was screwed into a pout, her fists were clenched, and in about three to five seconds her voice would pierce the heavens. ¡°Don¡¯t be like that!¡± she shouted. ¡°Sorry,¡± I lied without looking back, ¡°I don¡¯t want to be late.¡± ¡°We have thirty minutes before class,¡± she argued as she snuck one hand around the crook of my right arm. ¡°Let¡¯s go through the park.¡± Slightly abashed and devoid of the necessary energy for a quarrel I conceded to her demands and allowed her to guide me into the nearby park. It wasn¡¯t the worst thing that could happen. The autumn air was crisp and clear and overhead the sky bloomed a beautiful blue. I allowed myself a deep inhale that flooded my lungs with serenity and exhaled slowly. A sense of nostalgia hung in the air. Calmer, I squeezed her hand as I came to a stop. She turned around in a painfully slow manner. Confusion and anticipation danced as one in her shining eyes. My chest hurt. A dry throat swallowed up my words. Before I could make a second attempt she pressed one finger against my lips and gently whispered, ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m not mad.¡± Those five little words quickened the rhythm of my straining heart. The dam broke as my apology surged out in a single, unbroken breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ve been callous. Thank you for taking care of me.¡± I bowed quickly before a single tear could mobilize. Before I could stand upright her arms were wrapped around me, guiding me up, again and again. Her cheek brushed against mine, soft and warm. A glimpse of a memory, a single forgotten frame flashed through my mind too quickly to capture. ¡°I¡¯ll always be there for you Akane,¡± she whispered as she pulled me deeper into the embrace. Her words felt familiar, but the voice wasn¡¯t correct. This was enough to shock me back to my senses and I was momentarily grateful that the park was empty. We were alone, there was only a solitary bench off in the distance and a dark-haired girl sat upon it. ¡°There¡¯s someone here,¡± I hissed through clenched teeth as I wrenched myself out of her grasp. Natsumi¡¯s eyes swelled up like saucers. Her head spun around to survey the scene. When she spotted the stranger she cocked her head to one side and rolled her eyes at me. ¡°It¡¯s just some girl,¡± sighed Natsumi. Without a hint of warning, she suddenly narrowed them and said with devilish glee, ¡°I think I¡¯ll say hello.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± I pleaded, but my foolish roommate was already halfway to the solitary bench. The urge to flee rumbled in my gut. A shadow flitted in the corner of my eye and spurred me into action. As I approached the pair I noticed that Natsumi was oddly still and silent. I called out to her and she turned to face me. Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused. Her face was pale. She mumbled incoherently. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked. The sight of the stranger answered my question and stilled my lips. It was a young woman in tight, waist-high black jeans with a t-shirt haphazardly tucked in here and there. Straight black bangs hid her eyes and most of her voluminous hair was pulled back and tied up in a loose bun. Her skin was porcelain white, like a beautiful doll. It took me a moment to realize each of her slender arms was marred by blue-green bruises. Bile rose in my throat as I noticed one forearm was bent unnaturally. ¡°Call 110.¡± The order came out unconsciously as I knelt down in front of the young woman. A blue substance streamed out of one of her nostrils and trickled across her delicate lips. They were familiar. The smell of orange blossoms filled the air as a cold thrill ran like a razor up the nape of my neck. I knew this face, but it couldn¡¯t be her. It couldn¡¯t be Fumiko. The ground rushed up at me as my vision went black. 3 - After Image For the first time in nearly three years, I saw my parents. My father sat in a chair in a far corner of the room. His face was twisted into a grimace that was further distorted by the effects of age, time had not been kind to him. I recalled the last time I had seen him, the hair on his temples and crown had already grown sparse. Now it was in full retreat. A once flat stomach was engulfed in a thick layer of pudge that spilled past his belt. Glasses obscured amber eyes that had once smiled down at me. My mother remained regal. Her posture was impeccable, unbowed by time. She towered over the foot of my bed like a matronly goddess made manifest. Only her hair betrayed her age with its perfect black now besmirched by silver-gray strands. A vainer woman would readily dye the truth. Mother would have sneered at the thought. Her hickory eyes remained eternally distant. You can not draw water from stone nor could the sight of my injuries tug out an ounce of sympathy from her visage. I had anticipated such a reaction. It felt like a shiv had slipped between my ribs as she coldly gazed down at me. This was the price of my blasphemy. My lips parted. They were parched and eagerly drank up any sound I tried to emit. It could have been gratitude for them finally returning to my life. It could have been a curse for their rejection. It could have been a wordless cry into the void. Perhaps an apology. No matter. Their sudden appearance had rendered me mute. I shut my eyes on them and embraced sleep. I awoke to a brilliant white light piercing through my eyelids. I instinctively squeezed my eyelids tight and shielded my face in my hands. A thought intruded, Is the end? A chuckle shook my chest, At least it¡¯s painless. Fumiko Kimura¡¯s face flashed through my thoughts. The cruel brushstrokes of a perverse painter marred her skin with purple bruises. Her eyelids were swollen and caked with dried blood. My stomach ached. It felt as if a great claw had reached inside me and scooped out my guts. Only a choking sob filled the hollow. Did I ever thank her? Her voice called out to me. It was distant, muffled like a cry obscured by a closed door. A second voice rumbled after and then a third cut shrilly through the air, but their words were unintelligible. The unmistakable sound of weeping followed. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± I demanded as my heart thumped fitfully. My ears ate silence. The distant sobs faded. I was alone, haunted by visions of Fumiko¡¯s battered face. A viscous river of blue trickled from one nostril and welled between her lips. Her eyes fluttered. Before they could open, a soft voice ended the vision. ¡°Pardon the intrusion, are you awake?¡± I turned my head toward the direction of the voice and unshielded my eyes. Cerulean blue veins pulsed along the edges of my vision. I blinked them away. An ageless nurse in a white uniform stood in the doorway. The wall behind her was white. The walls of the room were white. The fluorescent lights beating down from above were white. The thin sheets on my bed were white. White and sterile. ¡°Yes,¡± I answered, ¡°What time is it?¡± The nurse glanced at her watch and said, ¡°12:11 PM. You¡¯ve been asleep since you arrived.¡± ¡°Is Nat-¡± I caught myself. ¡°Is Sato-san okay?¡± ¡°Hmm? Oh, your friend. Yes, she¡¯s been in the waiting room since you came in. Would you like me to fetch her for you?¡± ¡°Please. And thank you for taking care of me.¡± The slim nurse graced me with a white smile. ¡°You are most welcome,¡± she said kindly, ¡°I¡¯ll be right back with your friend.¡± My gaze drifted towards the IV drip nestled in the crook of my left arm. I didn¡¯t watch her leave. The image of my parents surfaced. I knew they hadn¡¯t been here. It was a stupid dream. My hands balled into fists so tight that my fingernails bit into my palms. I squeezed harder and embraced the pain. Out of nowhere, Natsumi burst into the room in a tsunami of tears. ¡°Oh my god Akane! Are you okay? I¡¯m so, so, so sorry,¡± she cried out breathlessly. Every word she spoke spilled out at a random volume between choked-back sobs. ¡°I tried to catch you when you fell, but I don¡¯t know if you got hurt or not and you didn¡¯t wake up even when the police came and they said you needed to go the hospital to check to see if you had a concussion and I don¡¯t know what I do if you were hurt!¡± As she rambled incessantly my precious roommate managed to stumble over to my bed and grasped both my hands in hers. They were warm and rather sweaty, but comforting all the same. In the wake of this outburst, the nurse spoke calmly, ¡°She does not have a concussion. She was dehydrated and, if you¡¯ll forgive me, experiencing shock.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I said to both of them, ¡°Thank you for your concern.¡± Without another word, the nurse nodded and exited the room. Natsumi continued to bawl softly into my shoulder. ¡°Hey,¡± I whispered to her, ¡°I¡¯ll catch a cold.¡± The faintest trace of a chuckle joined her song of sorrow. She punched my damp shoulder playfully. ¡°You scared me,¡± whispered Natsumi as she nuzzled against me. There was an edge to her tone I couldn¡¯t place. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯m safe now,¡± I answered. Absentmindedly, I gently patted her head. Her hair was soft and soothing. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± she paused momentarily, ¡°I insisted on coming with you immediately. I don¡¯t know what they did with that girl.¡± I interjected, ¡°Fumiko.¡± Natsumi froze in place and glared at me. ¡°You knew her?¡± she demanded brusquely. ¡°Yes, sort of,¡± I tried to explain but a steel vice clamped down frightfully on my hands. ¡°Hey! That hurts!¡± Unabashed, Natsumi flung my hands down and jumped off the bed. She turned away and said to the white wall, ¡°That¡¯s why you were worried. You didn¡¯t want her to see us.¡± ¡°What?¡± Her reaction was bizarre. I explained, ¡°She was a classmate in high school. I haven¡¯t seen her in years.¡± ¡°Are you ashamed of me?¡± Natsumi¡¯s voice was small. Infantile. My throat tightened, I shouldn¡¯t say it. I must not say it. ¡°Should I be?¡± Natsumi responded by silently storming out of the room. A vacuum of distraught lay in her wake. My eyelids slammed shut as I clasped both hands over my face. ¡°You¡¯ve really done it this time Akane,¡± I whimpered, ¡°What do I do? How do I fix this?¡± Tears welled in the corners of my eyes. I can never do anything right. They overwhelmed their basins, trickled down, and stained my cheeks salty with regret. As my stomach tightened I carelessly plucked the IV free from my arm, but before I could chase after my friend a shadow darkened the room. A tall figure stood in the doorway. ¡°You should rest,¡± it stated plainly as it stepped forward. A tall man emerged from the shadow. He was broad-shouldered, but his immaculately tailored suit clung closely to lanky limbs. An unlit cigarette dangled between his thin lips. He ignored my tears and asked, ¡°Or would now be a good time to talk?¡± ¡°Who are you?¡± I managed to ask as I reclined back against a stack of pillows. Without breaking his stride the man pulled out a badge and flashed it at me carelessly. He plopped down into a chair near the room¡¯s lone window. As he peered through cracked blinds he slipped the badge back into his jacket and explained, ¡°Detective Nakamoto. I¡¯m the lead investigator on the case.¡± I chose my words carefully. ¡°How can I be of assistance?¡± Nakamoto scratched idly at his chin. A pregnant pause came and went. The beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ¡°To be quite honest, I¡¯m not sure you can,¡± he answered. His response caught me off-guard. For a brief moment, I wanted to prove my worth. Is this a trick? I wondered as I chose to stay silent. The detective¡¯s gaze remained fixed outside as he blindly extracted a pen and small notepad from his suit coat. Without looking at me, he asked, ¡°What is your name?¡± ¡°Akane Kobayashi.¡± ¡°Your date of birth?¡± ¡°2002, February 3rd.¡± Nakamoto wrote nothing down as he continued, ¡°What time did you find the body?¡± The meaning was clear, but I had to confirm it. Shards of glass tumbled down my throat as I forced the question out, ¡°She¡¯s dead?¡± The detective fixed his gaze on me. I couldn¡¯t tell what was hidden in his eyes. Surprise? Pity? ¡°Yes,¡± he confirmed. My tears flowed freely. He callously asked again, ¡°Do you know what time you found the body?¡± ¡°Um, 8:40¡­AM, I think. I¡¯m not sure. Sato-san called.¡± ¡°And she called as soon as you found the body?¡± The room blurred. I squeaked out an affirmative. ¡°Did you know the victim?¡± His voice was distant. A lifetime away. The muscles of my throat screamed in agony as I tried and failed to answer him. Yes, yes, yes, ran through my mind, but the word would not come out. I nodded. ¡°Fumiko Kimura - ¡± began the detective. His voice faded away the second I heard her name. She called out as if she were curled up next to me, repeatedly whispering my name. Sobs wracked every inch of my body. I couldn¡¯t stop them. I wouldn¡¯t. They rang out like a reverberating gong. Filthy hot tears stole my sight as I succumbed. Two strong arms slipped underneath my shoulders and my head collapsed onto a muscled shoulder. Someone muttered an apology. Did those words come from me? My world was nothing but a stream of tears and aching chest. In that chaos, my arms found a broad back and they mindlessly wrapped around it. An eternity passed by in that embrace. My tears ran dry. A final sob seeped out. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± apologized Detective Nakamoto as he gently broke free of my embrace and slid off the bed. ¡°That was unbecoming of me.¡± I wiped away a tear and sniffled back another. ¡°No, don¡¯t be. Thank you.¡± ¡°She must have been a good friend.¡± A lone chuckle shook me. ¡°No,¡± I admitted, ¡°I didn¡¯t know her well. At all.¡± ¡°I find that hard to believe,¡± he said matter-of-factly, ¡°She had a photo of the two of you. In her wallet.¡± His statement struck me like a bolt of lightning. It left me too dazed to respond. An insane jumble of thoughts raced through my mind. Fumiko¡­had a photo of me? Of us? What?! ¡°W-we, we were just classmates, once¡­in high school,¡± I muttered absentmindedly as I met his stare. Pity was written in his eyes. ¡°Are you sure you didn¡¯t hit your head earlier?¡± he asked. Before I could respond he answered the question. ¡°No, they wouldn¡¯t let you sleep if they feared a concussion. Odd. Very odd.¡± A swift defense tumbled out. ¡°I don¡¯t understand either!¡± Nakamoto stroked the blue stubble on his jaw. ¡°You don¡¯t strike me as a liar. Heh, but I shouldn¡¯t tell you that,¡± he considered as he contemplated the ceiling, ¡°If you are, you¡¯re more skilled than most. We¡¯ll have to speak again. Yes, that will be necessary.¡± The detective abruptly met my gaze again. ¡°I¡¯ll be in touch, Kobayashi-san.¡± ¡°I-I understand.¡± Detective Nakamoto graced me with a stiff bow and took his leave. He left more questions than answers behind. I collapsed onto my back and pulled the covers over my head. This had been the longest day of my life. Sleep would have been a blessing, but a thousand maddening thoughts stirred within. What happened to Fumiko? Was she murdered? Yes, but who did it? And why? When? And the photo?