Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Ithought I would be happy when I finally remembered something from my past. I was euphoric when memories of me playing the piano resurfaced, my fingers itching to touch the keys, but it stayed with daydreaming about it since there is no piano or keyboard anywhere near Anima.
Walking around with the weight of a crime on my shoulders was the last thing I was expecting and something that maybe should’ve stayed in my past. I’m certain everyone has done something in their life they are not very proud of, but…
murder? I just can't wrap my head around it. It doesn’t feel like me, but who am I?
I avoided social contact, not able to face the judgment of others and even pushing Ami away. She allowed it for a week, until she burst into my room one night - which still isn’t allowed - and begged for me to tell her what she’s done wrong.
I told her eventually, after she promised a thousand times she wouldn’t look at me differently, although I would understand if she did. She said she has done things she isn’t proud of as well.
My back has recovered mostly, the muscles are sore, but manageable.
Unfortunately my sessions with Miss Sophia take place every other day now.
We try to learn more about the night that brought the damnation of my life.
But no matter how many hours of conversations, questions or tests, my mind doesn’t reveal anything else.
Miss Sophia said it’s important I move forward, find my routine again and learn how to live with what I did. Easy for her to say.
That’s why I try to read, but the book lays open on my upper thighs, untouched. The words blend together into one blurry mess. My thoughts drift off as I try to think of what happened that night. My mother flickers in and out of view, but every time I try to focus on her, she vanishes.
I close the book and ask for a piece of paper and a pencil. Those things might seem harmless to most people, but those people don’t live at Anima. Here, anything can be turned into a weapon.
Firstly, I try to write every single detail I can remember from the night of the accident. It’s not much, and seeing the words written in front of me makes it even more real. Questions rise, I write them down as well.
What led up to this fragment?
Why did I do this?
How did I get out of the house?
A scream echoes through my head and I close my eyes. I don’t know my mother’s name or what her voice might sound like, but that one was definitely hers. A shiver rolls down my spine.
Maily.
I look up and around, searching for whoever called out my name, but I am all by myself, even the guard left me alone in here. I shake my head and look down at the paper in front of me.
What if I wanted to light a candle and something caught fire. Maybe I didn’t notice it until it was too late and the biggest part of the house was already on fire. And when I finally noticed the flames, my mother was already choking on the smoke and —
You must hurry.
My pencil falls out of my hand and I look around once more. I am going insane. Visions are one thing, but hearing voices? Yet somehow I know there is someone here with me, that I am not in fact alone, even if I can’t see anyone.
There’s this urge inside of me, telling me to start walking. I’m pulled out of the seat by an invisible force that ushers me forward. I don’t know where my feet are taking me, but they are in a hurry.
A heavy feeling settles in my stomach, one that isn’t hunger. I pass a few other kids in the hallway, offering them a soft smile even though my heart is for some reason hammering inside of my chest.
You are running out of time.
Well, that isn’t helping.
I pick up my pace and know I am on the right path when the doors to the cafeteria come into sight. The pull inside of me gets even stronger and I have to restrain myself from running.
Hurry hurry hurry hurry.
The word is like a mantra inside of my head and as soon as I push open the doors and take my first step into the dining area, everything becomes eerily quiet.
The cafeteria is dark, the only light comes from a single emergency lamp. My heart pounds loudly in my ears and I take a few steps forward, not sure what to do now that I am here.
I try to turn on the light switch, but the cafeteria remains dark. Strange. There might be a malfunction or a storm passing by, but when I look outside of the windows, I don’t see any clouds that might harbor bad weather.
Another tug pulls me forward, I take a few careful steps and nearly slip on something on the floor. I manage to refind my balance and continue walking forward, but the glowing feeling inside of my chest goes ice cold. It returns when I take a couple of steps back.
After a couple of minutes of walking around like a mad person, I halt. I’m walking in circles. It’s a miracle I haven’t broken anything, because I still can’t see shit. The only thing I can see is —
My foot gets stuck on something and I stumble forward, losing balance for real this time and falling face first on the ground.
A soft grunt breaks the silence.
Not something, someone.
Shit.
“Hello?”
I move my hands in a waving motion on the floor until I touch what feels like the bottom of a shoe. I crawl closer to the person on the floor, moving my hand up the shin until I’m seated to what feels like the middle of the person's body. “Are you injured?”
I know it’s a stupid question since the person in front of me is lying in the dark and not responsive, but that way I can tell in what state they are. Sort of.
I lean to the left, my hand searching for the head. I feel short hair, a tiny nose and slightly damp skin. Whoever it is, they are unconscious. No way in hell would anyone allow themselves to be touched like this without reacting.
Continuing my path, I feel shoulders and notice the outline of a bra strap through the fabric of her tunic, knowing for certain that it is a she.
I follow the line of her waist, my fingers passing along wet fabric. I swallow audibly. Shit. I move my fingers a little higher, towards her ribs and feel the rough edges of her tunic and a sticky substance. As I touch bare skin, the girl under my fingertips gasps for air.
I jump up, nearly slipping on the wetness underneath my feet that I now know for sure is blood. “Hold on, I’ll call for help!”
I hurry over to where I think the phone must stand, bumping my knee into one of the tables. As a blessing from above, I find the phone instantly. I pick up the horn and press number one, Doctor Herbert's emergency line.
I wait for the beeping tone that signals a connection is being made, but the line remains eerily quiet.
Damn it!
I try the light switch multiple times, but to no avail. I rush back over to the phone and pick up the horn praying for a connection. But it doesn’t ring. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I leave the phone for what it is and search for the rack where they store all their towels, mops and dishcloths. Even though I can barely see a hand in front of me, I manage to find them and grab as many as I can hold.
Navigating back to the girl is a little trickier since my sense of direction seems a little off. Thankfully, she breathes heavily and I find her almost instantly.
I lean down next to her, searching for the place where the wound is located and apply pressure with one of the towels, hoping it will slow the bleeding. An ice cold, wet hand lands on top of mine, holding my fingers in an iron grip.
“It’s okay, I’m here. Help is on the way.”
A lie, or a thought that I hope will become reality. As my trousers become soaked with ice cold wetness, the girl next to me remains utterly quiet. My fingers find the pulse point in her neck. I wait for a couple of seconds. There is still a heartbeat, but faint. She doesn’t have much time left.
To my surprise, I hear the zooming of electricity above my head and the yellow lights around me come to life. I look back down, relieved to finally be able to see what I’m dealing with when —
Boom-boom.
Boom-boom.
The face of the girl looks serene, but her skin tone is too pale, little drops of sweat cover her brow and upper lip. But that’s not what makes my heart beat faster. It’s who is actually wounded.
“Ami?” I whisper, my voice barely noticeable.
Her eyes open only a sliver, the normally so vivid blue has dimmed, the spark that is normally always there nowhere to be seen.
“Hi babes,” she coughs, blood oozing from the wound underneath my hands, the towel unable to absorb it all. “What are you…doing here?”
I throw the soaked towel away, taking the opportunity to look at the wound.
A deep gash between the ribs, maybe four inches long.
There isn’t much leaking out of the wound anymore, which could be good, if not for all the blood that is surrounding her.
Us. I hastily grab another towel, applying pressure to the wound once more.
“What happened?”
I try to remain calm, panic won’t help me right now, but she’s running out of time. We both know that.
“I fell…on to a…knife…duh.”
My eyes are full of unshed tears. I blink them back, I can’t let my emotions overrule my rational thinking. “Now is not the time for jokes.”
She blinks slowly, her eyes remaining shut for a second too long. “There is always…time for…a joke,” she coughs again, longer this time, blood trickling out her mouth, her body twisting around itself. “Besides…I am…fine.”
She exhales, eyes fluttering shut. She isn’t fine, she is quite the opposite actually. My fingers tighten on the towel, but the blood keeps coming. There’s too much. Too damn much.
Her breath becomes more labored as the seconds tick by. “You’re fine, Ami, you can get through this, you are so strong.”
Her eyes open once more, there’s something in them that wasn’t there before. A hand covered in blood reaches out to cup my cheek. “No, my sweet Maily, you are strong.”
The tears I tried to hold back fall from my eyes and I cover her hand with my own, holding her as close as I can.
She takes a slow and deep breath in, followed by a labored breath out.
Then, nothing.
Her chest doesn’t move up again.
No.
No, no, no.
“Ami?” I whisper.
Her eyes look at me, a soft smile tilts the corners of her mouth up, but she is gone.
With trembling hands, I pull her close to me, clutching her tight against my chest. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there to save you.
I am sorry I was too late,” my voice cracks, but I need to voice these words.
“I am sorry that I failed you. I…I promise I’ll do better, be better for you.
Thank you for giving me a reason to live, for bringing me joy when I could not see the light.
Thank you for being…you.” I press my forehead against hers, rocking her gently. “I love you, Ami.”
A breath shudders out of me, something cracking inside, something that will never be fixed, no matter how many years shall pass.
Tears spill freely down my cheeks as I tighten my arms around her. I hold on, even as the weight of reality settles in.
She’s gone.
A part of me—maybe the best part—is gone with her.