Untitled Project - Chapter #2

[Untitled Project]

[CHAPTER #2]

The next few days were an absolute nightmare which tormented her every moment.

It turned out that Ken had suffered a head injury. It was not terribly serious, but it had rendered him unconscious. Not only that, but he had suffered some injuries from his narrowly-escaped brush with death. They were mostly scrapes and bruises, minus a few bleeding injuries from hitting pavement (though he would be feeling plenty of aches and pains when he woke up). And on top of everything, he had developed a cold from being out in the rain for so long, which didn't exactly aid the healing process.

But he was still alive. As long as he was still breathing, Naomi was somewhat relieved.

If only he would wake up, though...

He had been unconscious ever since coming to the hospital. The doctor was puzzled by this, but he chalked it up to mere shock from losing blood. Naomi also believed that the trauma of his accident coupled with his recent psychological mindset might have attributed to it, but it was merely guesswork at the moment. She wouldn't know anything for sure until Ken told them himself.

Ryou had shown up soon after Naomi, and had also been hit hard by the sight and the news. He was optimistic, though, just as he always was. And because he was the more comforting of the two, he helped talk Ken's mother through it all, encouraging her through this difficult time. She seemed to be very worried, but she was holding up better than Naomi thought she would. She had expected her to be at a complete loss and, frankly, hysterical. But she held her composure, and didn't let the crying and the worry overcome her completely.

Really, the one who took the news the hardest... was Naomi herself. She had barely stopped crying since she had seen him in that horrid state. This was a strange experience for her, as she typically never let her emotions get the better of her. But this was a sensory overload, and she had no other option than to let the tears fall. She hadn't cried this much since, well...

That's right... this is how it was back then, wasn't it...?

She held the saddest memories back, not wanting to multiply the situation with more emotions. She wiped her face of the tears, making more dark spots on the back of her sleeve. They had almost become the default color of her sleeves at this point.

She actually hadn't left the hospital since she arrived. Her family had come to check up on her and on Ken, and they tried to comfort her. They eventually realized that she wasn't responding positively, so they thought it best to leave her alone with her thoughts. They brought her extra clothing and some of her things, and kissed her goodbye. She barely managed to squeeze out a word of thanks before they left, and was soon left alone again.

She decided to stay out of his hospital room for the time being. Seeing his hurt figure... it was too much for her to take at this time. She secluded herself in the waiting area, sitting by herself, staring at the ground...

How did this happen? He simply fell incorrectly? What kind of accident is that?

She was confused by this entire ordeal.

Why didn't he ask any of us to go with him? Even if it was just one of us, that would have been enough to keep him from that accident... he could have called me, I would have dropped everything in order to help him. Doesn't he know that?

In truth, she was starting to get frustrated. But she kept her exterior silent. She still had the same blank facial expression, while her eyes were filled with depression, distress, and fear, all mixed together in a silent gaze. She was simply staring into space, not moving an inch. She had curled her legs up on the chair with her and hugged her arms around them. Her glasses rested on her head, rendered useless due to the tears.

She sat there for many hours, sitting in the same position, keeping herself from everybody.

Could it be that he doesn't consider me a close friend? Have I not shown him that I care about him?

These words spun around in her mind. On the one hand, she felt like a complete jerk, thinking only about herself at this time. On other hand, her presence could have prevented him from getting into an accident, leading her to be concerned as to why he didn't feel comfortable enough with them to seek them out for emotional help.

She sighed quietly...

It's typical, isn't it? I'm turning everything around to myself, like the selfish, spoiled brat I am. I'm only concerned with my stake in all of this and feel personally offended because he didn't ask for MY help. I'm such a brat...

But still she sat, contemplating quietly... just like she always did.

***

However, even she eventually gets sick of thinking constantly.

She had no idea how much time had passed. Hours? Days? All seemed blended together, and the increments of time didn't seem very important at this time.

She was just hungry right now. Brooding does that to people.

She stretched out her aching legs, annoyed by how they hurt. She certainly had been sitting there for quite awhile, that much was certain. She noticed that there was nobody else in the waiting room that she was situated in, which puzzled her slightly. Not that she really cared if anybody saw her in this state. Normally she would be embarrassed if people saw her crying in public, but there was certainly no time for self-consciousness now.

She glanced over at the bag that her parents had left her. She paid no attention to it earlier, but now she was slightly curious, in an odd way. She opened it up and peered at its contents. Some of her clothing was inside, which may come in handy if she continued ruining the sweater she had on. One of her spiral notebooks, the ones she decorated herself with colorful markers and cut-out construction paper, also lay among the pile of items. Curiously, this was the blank one that she never got around to writing in. Perhaps her parents were telling her something? She rummaged further, coming across a simple set of coloring pencils, as well as pens for writing and her most recently compiled photo album.

She smiled slightly, in spite of herself. Her parents truly knew what she needed at a time like this. For sitting there in the bag, two items that she would put to use right away, was a brown bag filled with her favorite confections... and her personal Bible.

She took it out carefully, examining it thoroughly. This was such a kind gesture... she loved how her parents could guess exactly what she needed the most. They didn't pack all the theologically-ridden books, nor anything even remotely resembling the self-help volumes that drove her nuts, nor any portable games of any sort. No, they packed the one source of comfort that would help her through whatever she was going through during any time or season of her life.

She knew what she wanted to read at that moment. Interestingly, it wasn't a prayer of comfort for hard times, nor was it an expression of God's sovereignty through even difficult times. No, this was a personal admonishment that only she and God would understand.

Psalm 6
O Lord, do not rebuke me in Your anger,
Nor chasten me in Your wrath.
Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am pining away;
Heal me, O Lord, for my bones are dismayed.
And my soul is greatly dismayed;
But You, O Lord – how long?
Return, O Lord, rescue my soul;
Save me because of Your lovingkindness.
For there is no mention of You in death;
In Sheol who will give You thanks?
I am weary with my sighing;
Every night I make my bed swim,
I dissolve my couch with my tears.
My eye has wasted away with grief;
It has become old because of all my adversaries.
Depart from me, all you who do iniquity,
For the Lord has heard the voice of my weeping.
The Lord has heard my supplication,
The Lord receives my prayer.
All my enemies will be ashamed and greatly dismayed;
They shall turn back, they will suddenly be ashamed.

She understood that this was not the most applicable passage she could have turned to. Certainly this was not written for her, but she understood how it seemed to parallel what was happening with her personal thoughts. She was letting these feelings of anger and self-pity overcome her, keeping her from being beneficial in any way. How selfish was that?

She prayed to God to take away these bad feelings from her. She could cope with the sadness, but she didn't want to become bitter and angry, especially at God for letting this happen.

He has His reasons, and He has a plan. Who am I to argue with it?

She knew that this probably wouldn't comfort her immediately, given everything that was going on right now, but she knew that it was what she needed to do as soon as possible, before she let the feelings take over her.

She took out her notebook and paper, determined to write her feelings down. She may not be the most poetic or charismatic person, but she knew how to write. Her writing was her outlet for her feelings. A memory quickly flashed in her mind. That person... she had told Naomi that writing out her own psalms could help her deal with emotion, much like how it helped King David. She took that advice to heart, and never forgot what that woman said.

With pen in hand, she elegantly started putting words to paper, following no rule nor form... she simply expressed her feelings...

“...such is my name.”
I am a force with no use, nor need for use.
Unneeded... Unnecessary, but granted a purpose.
Offenses committed, a willingness and rebellion.
Yet pardon was made, snow-pure slate offered.
A slave changing masters, and a slave becoming a blessed one.
Such is my path, such was granted undeservedly.
Still falling, needed punishment feared.
But given peace, forgiveness felt instead.
Following a life, enjoying the good pleasure given.
Being blessed, a feeling that can never be replaced.
Take that away, and I am nothing.
Less than nothing, not a mark on the canvas.
An identity given its value.
Such is this existence.
Such is who I am.
Such is my name.

Perhaps it did not make very much sense. Perhaps it was confusing and not very poetic. But that was how she was. That was her “identity”.