Untitled Project - "Chapter #1"

[Untitled Project]

CHAPTER #1

“... You know I'm always here... you know I understand exactly what you're going through...”

How well I do know.

As she laid on her bed, she thought this to herself while closing the phone in her hands. To be honest, she was secretly relieved that she didn't have to speak with Ken. Her nerves were making her enough of a wreck simply by placing the phone call. She had no idea how she would have reacted if she had to hold a conversation with the guy.

I probably would have been stunned to silence. I more than likely would have profusely apologized for every little sound that I made. I'm certain he would have assumed that I was being insensitive. He would have been insulted at my prying behavior and that would ultimately cause him more distress, I know it.

She nodded to herself. This was the best way for now. Regardless of what she said on the phone, talking to him would be too difficult with the mental and emotional state he was currently in. She didn't want to cause any undue offense. She needed to give him his own time to deal with the hurt he had been feeling.

She bit her lip as she thought about her own hurt in her past. She was young when the sting of death affected her life. It was important and devastating enough that it had lead her to the most important change in her life. How was this new loss affecting Ken? What will it do to his faith? She was dying to know, being the ever-curious intellectual that she was, but she knew enough not to pry unnecessarily.

She sighed and shook her head, disappointed by her insensitive nature. She couldn't help that she wasn't a naturally emotional or empathetic person. “Too much going on in the head to worry about the heart” was almost her daily motto, much to her annoyance. She didn't know how to change from a hard-nosed intellectual to an effectual feeler. It just wasn't her way. Even her motherly instinct was very rigid and clumsy, which obviously made her a hit among children.

I still have to approach him eventually, though. I might be the only one who can honestly empathize with his condition without being condescending about his hurt. It might bring up some pain in my heart to have to remember my experience, but if I can help him in some small way... that should be a worthy and noble goal, right?

She tried to psyche herself up for this impending event. She was so nervous around emotional people (or rather, people as a whole, in many cases) that it was a necessary exercise. She had to plan things out beforehand or else she would not be able to do anything correctly. It might be trivializing the situation, but she assured herself that it was for his good and that she was not benefiting from it in any way.

She tried working out plans in her mind, but it eventually drifted off into thinking about memories from that sorrowful day. She thought a lot about how Ken reacted to the news, as well as to the accident and events beforehand. She was so touched by how deeply he cared for that girl, and how much she had cared about him. In a way, she was envious, and she had a feeling as to why...

It wasn't that she didn't care about the girl's death. She, too, was grieving about their loss. But her personality was such that it didn't take that long to accept the inevitable. She reasoned through her mourning, explaining to herself that they will reunite again when they all eventually pass away. She knew that the girl wouldn't want them to mourn for an inordinate amount of time, especially if it caused such a dissolution within the group. She accepted these facts, and while she was still depressed over everything that transpired, she didn't let it bring her to a complete state of weeping and wailing. It was her phlegmatic personality at work, to be sure, but she couldn't help that she had one.

Her memories drifted back to the first encounter she had with Ken. By all appearances, it was nothing more than a chance meeting. Their mutual friend, Ryou, had told him to find her in her favorite place: the library. She remembered that she had been surrounded by stacks of books that she was perusing through while greedily snacking on her favorite snacks (something that is more than likely against library rules, but she claims ignorance on that front).

Ken had just walked in and was looking around for this mystery woman that Ryou had talked about. He had seemed a bit disinterested and reluctant, but he had kept searching all the same. Although she pretended to keep reading, she had actually secretly watched him as he clumsily made his way through the shelves of books. She was intrigued not only by the fact that someone else was in the library at this time, but because it seemed like he was searching intently for some periodical or reference book of some sort, which is a rare sight in that school. In a way, it seemed... cute. But she eventually decided to go back to her reading of advanced literature and left him to his quest.

Her ears had perked up as soon as he made his way over to her area, however. Or, more specifically, when he nervously attempted to get her attention. When she had looked up and gave him that curious, inquiring look that she always gave (while still nibbling on a piece of licorice), she remembered that his face had flushed quite fully, and he couldn't seem to find the words to explain himself. She chalked that up to mere nervousness around a female, which is to be expected by a lot of guys that age. In the back of her head, however, she was always curious as to whether or not it might have been something more...

While thinking this, she realized that she too had been blushing a bit, something she had not done at the time... before she had gotten to know him. She shook her head roughly, trying to get back on track with... whatever she was doing beforehand. She gave a frustrated sigh, trying not to be so intensely annoyed with herself.

She started remembering how she eerily went through a weird personality change during that time. For some reason, she was more naturally comfortable around him than with most people. She was quite bold in her approach, actually. She was quite excited that somebody else might be interested in the intellectual, theological pursuits that she was undertaking, so she naturally came on a little strong. She had given him supplemental books, theologically-rich biblical chapters and books to read, commentaries, written debates, you name it. She unfairly wanted him to learn as much as possible in order to engage her intellectually, and this eventually gave him such a burnout that it was a wonder as to why he didn't cut off the friendship right there.

But he was too nice to do something like that. They enjoyed spending time together, though she always felt like she was imposing on him and wasting his time. They shared a love for fiction and especially video games. In a bizarre twist in gender stereotypes, fighting games and RPGs were her specialties while puzzle and simulation games were his forte. She giggled to herself as she remembered the time they went to the arcade on a mere whim, and how spectacularly bad he was at fighting with the new characters. Why, he couldn't even throw an energy blast correctly! She had tried to go easy on him, but it was too much fun to easily trounce the guy.

Come to think of it, the new iteration of that game is going to be released soon... perhaps I could try to cheer him up with that?

She decided that it wasn't such a bad idea to do so. She rolled over on her bed towards her dresser, grabbed a tablet and a pen, and turned over on her forearms and started writing. Being the avid reader and writer that she was, this was her way of organizing her thoughts and getting her mind off of current events and situations. In her incredibly nerdy way, she wrote at the top in large, red letters:

-Good Ways to Cheer Ken Up and Help Him Through This Sad Period!-

It just barely fit. Barely.

She spent the next half hour brainstorming ideas, writing some down occasionally, but because she second-guesses herself on every issue, half of the ideas were either crossed out or meticulously modified to the degree of near-unintelligibility. But she understood what she had written, and that was all that mattered to her.

When she was finally satisfied with her plans, she placed the pen and tablet back on the dresser and stretched out the nicks in her body. Laying down in such a position for that long tended to wear on her body, so she decided to reward herself with a nice, hot shower and a relaxing evening with something she enjoyed. Perhaps the latest release from her favorite author on eschatology? Or maybe her most recent fighting game purchase? She would decide after her shower. It wasn't as if a good student like her would not finish her homework the minute she got out of school, so she had a wide-open and free evening.

The shower worked wonders. The new shampoo she had bought that day gave just the right touch and a wondrous scent that she loved. She was busy drying her hair and dividing it correctly for the tails when her cell phone let out a ring. She hurriedly finished and quickly made her way towards her bed, where she had left the modern technological marvel. She had expected it to be one of her friends trying to get a hold of her, anxiously asking how to answer the seventh literary analysis question that the teacher assigned. Instead, the digital readout displayed something quite unexpected...

Ken's mother? What would she want to talk to me about?

She had just gotten home from talking with her before she left that message on Ken's phone. His mother had asked her if she knew where Ken might have gone, and she assumed that he went out to visit the grave. They had spent some time talking about him and how he had been acting lately.

Did something else come to her mind that she wanted to talk to me about? Perhaps an idea on how to approach him?

She flipped open the phone and greeted her...

...And was hit with the devastating news.

She honestly couldn't remember all the details of the conversation, perhaps due to the fact that the person on the other line had difficulty speaking through worried tears. However, she distinctly remembered the words “Ken”... “accident”... “hospital”... “coma”...

She wasn't sure what to do with this information. She sat there in stunned silence for what seemed like an eternity and a half, not knowing how to express anything in any way. She just stared at the wall with the phone up to her ear, with nothing coming to mind but silence.

Suddenly, she stood straight up. Now was not the time to sit there like a speechless doll. She hurriedly assured the woman that she would go there immediately and hung up quickly. She dashed towards her closet and dressers and, like a flash, threw on whatever she had laying around. Now was not the time for the fancy and elaborate outfits she was used to wearing. She unconsciously went for simple items, a shirt, jeans, sweater, and raincoat, and flew out the door. She passed her parents in her rush and anxiously breathed out an undecipherable message while looking for her running shoes. She found them, yanked them on, and left without a parting word of any sort.

Due to the fact that the hospital was close by, she decided to go by foot. She dashed down the street, making good time due to being the tall, fit teenage girl she was. She barely had time to reflect on what she was doing, focusing on simply getting to the hospital as quick as humanly possible. She used whatever conscious thoughts she had left to pray for his very life.

God, please...! Please do not let another one of my friends die in front of me...!

She found herself tearing up at this very thought. The idea that so many deaths could happen so quickly in her life... this isn't something that she would ever have dreamed would happen. This wasn't a thought she wanted to dwell on as she was running, so she quickly shook her head and continued at an even faster pace.

Finally, when the hospital came into view, she slowed down slightly and tried to catch her breath. She blazed through the doors, running straight towards the desk. She hurriedly requested Ken's room number. She received it, but didn't even breathe a word of thanks as she hurried to the stairs, seeing as how they would be faster with the crazed mindset she was in rather than waiting for that abhorrently slow elevator.

She finally slowed to a stop when she found his room. Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob, unsure of how to approach the situation. She shook her head again, and firmly grabbed the knob and turned it quickly, allowing herself in. The first face she saw was of Ken's mother, who was sitting right next to the bed, holding her son's hand. She slowly moved her gaze over to Ken...

...The terrible sight she was greeted with... she could no longer stop the tears...

She could not find the words to describe what she saw. Seeing the bandages... the medical machinery hooked up to him... the sight of blood...

She wept. The tears would not stop flowing this time. The sight of her friend in that deathly condition...

A most horrific image has just been burned into her mind forever, never to be erased.

Untitled Project - "Prologue"

[Untitled Project]

PROLOGUE

I usually enjoy rainy days.

He expressed this thought in his mind. He had been wandering in this stormy weather for some time. Not that he did not have a place to go; he had been slowly meandering to his abode for some time. He simply needed some time away from the familiar memories that his room brought up. Photographs lined his dressers and his computer hard drive. These images contained a face that he did not particularly want to see, lest his heart feel that stabbing feeling that so typically accompanies the loss of a loved one.

This thought hit him hard, and he felt that oh-so-familiar feeling yet again. He clutched at his chest, but remained stoic, which was the response that he grew accustomed to making since that sorrowful day. He couldn't help feeling this way; it was normal to experience these feelings at a time like this, right? But the pain never lessened, and in fact, grew exponentially in certain situations.

He hid his torment from his friends and Mom. Surely they would understand, he had no doubts about that. But he was personally conditioned to never show painful emotions in front of people. He simply did not want the attention. What he wanted was to be left alone to his thoughts. His life was melancholy in that manner.

But his thoughts were what was hurting him at this time. It had only been a few weeks since that cursed day. It was one of the most painful days he had ever gone through. Instinctively, he felt for the memento dangling around his neck.

The cross necklace. The one she had given to him as a present. The most important object she had owned, the only reminder of her parents that she possessed... and she had given it to him before she passed.

He felt so wretched. Who was he to receive such an important item from her? It made him realize that he had been one of the most important people in her life. Perhaps the most important, after God. She had certainly become one of the most important people in his life, certainly his best friend. His other friends were certainly close, but they had not touched his life in the way that she had.

He had just come from visiting her grave, as a matter of fact. He decided to walk there instead of getting a ride. He thought it better to be left alone when visiting and reminiscing since he didn't want to cause an inconvenience to anybody with him.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps he selfishly wanted time to himself and with his memories of her. He certainly had no lack of support from his loved ones, this was a fact he couldn't dispute. But it became stifling. He almost felt as if he didn't have any freedom left, always being doted upon by them. He didn't begrudge them for that, as he did realize that they cared and only wanted to help him. But sometimes people need to be left well enough alone. They should have understood his personality by now.

Whatever the reason, he had left on his own. His silenced cell phone showed that he missed calls from each of them. He knew they were only looking out for him. But he could apologize later. They would understand. He decided to listen to a few of the voice messages they left.

*beep*

“Ken, dear, why did you leave without telling me? I would have taken you if you had simply asked... please call and tell me you're alright.”

His Mom. He had worried her, he knew. Simply leaving a note wouldn't suffice for her.

*beep*

“Ken... your Mother has been worried sick about you. We know you're hurting still... but you should come to us if you need someone to cry with. You know I'm always here... you know I understand exactly what you're going through...”

Naomi. She was a sweet girl, someone he had been instantly captivated by. He knew he could have come to her for help, but... he didn't want to be a bother to her. He didn't want his sadness to bring up the painful memories of the trauma she had endured in her past. She doesn't need to be burdened by his troubles.

He stepped off the curb and sighed. He surveyed his surroundings. He was close enough to home, but he almost wished he had procured a ride. This rain was relentless, and it didn't exactly consist of soft sprinkles. He wearily turned towards his home, the accursed apartment that he didn't want to see at the moment. It wasn't a bad place, but the memories...

He started getting lost in his thoughts again. He didn't quite understand how someone could be such a victim to her genetics. Because that was really what caused her death. The accident itself wasn't life-threatening, though the bloody image of her body that was forever burnt into his memory certainly looked serious. But she recovered fairly well, to the point where she was coherent and conscious.

So why did she die so quickly thereafter? Perhaps the loss of blood irritated her condition even more. She had been experiencing more frequent symptoms of dizziness and sickness moreso than usual. Perhaps these factors all played a part? It was a frustrating position to be in, not being able to understand the rhetoric that those doctors spun out from their mouths. He was no geneticist, nor was he a scientist in any sense of the occupation.

But he knew the ultimate reason for her early demise. God simply wanted her to come home, simple as that. He accepted this answer, and certainly held no ill-will towards God for doing such a thing. How could he be angry at the Almighty? But he still felt the pain, and he believed that God would understand the intense period of mourning that he was going through. He just prayed constantly that the pain would lessen over time...

Being so engrossed in his thoughts, it's no wonder that he never saw this impending disaster coming. He had not noticed that he had been slowly making his way across the street. He barely saw the near-instrument of his defeat at the last minute, swerving around on the unsteady street. Having toned his body over the years in the areas of strength and agility and having become used to quick-thinking, he was able to almost super-humanly dodge out of the way, barely saving himself from becoming a new hood ornament on the vehicle.

However, no amount of preparation could have prepared anybody for their skull having a direct, sudden impact with cement.

He honestly didn't know what hit him (or what he hit, for that matter). He simply lay there. He knew something warm was pulsating out of his head, but he wasn't able to move a muscle to stop it. His thought process wasn't exactly proceeding logically in a coherent manner. He just knew something hurt, but he was so dazed that he couldn't even let out a scream of pain.

He simply did nothing. He let unconsciousness overtake him. He fell to the peaceful slumber that it brought.

***

He did not remember being picked up off of the street. Nor did he have any recollection of anything before or after that. It was as if his existence was simply blotted out of his mind. All his memories were gone, replaced with a fabrication that only he knew and would understand, had he been himself.

He had awoken to mere confusion. People had surrounded his hospital bed. Two teenagers, a blond girl with twintails and a guy whose strange hair he could only describe as ash-colored. Another woman was there as well, who looked as if she had been doing a lot of crying recently. The guy had called for the doctor to come in, hurriedly proclaiming that he was finally awake.

How many days had he been knocked out? Who were these people around him? Why did they keep calling him this strange name? Fuzzy as his memories were, he did not have any of this person they were talking about. He remembered a life that was absolutely different from the one that these strange people were spouting. So why did they insist on calling him by that name?

He finally couldn't take it anymore. His anger had always been a problem, and usually got the better of him in situations like these. He grabbed the nearest object he could and furiously threw it at the wall, careful not to multiply the situation by hurling it at the people. He angrily demanded to know who they were.

“Who are you people!? And why do you insist on calling me 'Ken'!?”