I'd never heard my father use a tone like that before. He wasn't angry, at least not yet, but he sounded cold. Very cold. Normally, he wouldn't get angry like this. While it was still scary, it wasn't nearly as threatening.
I guess I knew he was someone who cried easily.
To be honest, I haven't improved at all. I had no stamina whatsoever.
God, the reason why... that, happened, is because I couldn't hold back any longer without crying.
Taking a deep breath, in a seemingly calm manner, I put the glass on the counter, without even having drunk, and headed toward the hallway.
My father was there, waiting for me. When he saw me leave, he didn't say anything. He just looked at me with those eyes.
Then he walked into the living room, I suppose expecting me to follow him. He didn't even bother to take off his work jacket.
I had no choice. I followed him into the living room.
"Close the door, please." It was an order. He didn't even try to hide his anger in his tone. Judging by his face, he didn't seem that angry.
Sometimes, he'd come in with that same stiff, yet neutral face. The only thing different were his eyes. That's what scared me. Not just his voice, his eyes, it was as if, as if-
"I don't need to tell you why I'm like this, and I don't think you need to defend yourself either." My father stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed. I couldn't tell if he was expecting an answer or not, but I opened my mouth.
"I-"
"I've spoken to the principal of your school. I just don't understand..."
My father sighed during the pause, putting a hand to his face, covering his eyes and rubbing them, as if he were making an effort to understand what he was thinking at that moment.
"...You've excelled. I can't tell you anything else. It's just that... God..." I couldn't look at him. As always, I'm staring at the floor. Afraid. I couldn't help it. I almost couldn't control it.
"D-dad, I-".
"'Me' what?! You think you can just go around, settling anything with your fists?!" He raised his voice. He sounded indignant, as if he'd just killed someone, something. He sighed again.
"I understand the situation isn't right. But hitting someone?! Son, please, I want to know why."
"What t-what did they tell you?" I said, my voice breaking, my tone weak.
"...Is there anything else I need to know? Do you really think there's anything that will justify what you did?"
He even sounded surprised. He mixed surprise with that tone of indignation and disappointment. He tried to empathize with me, but the moment he remembered what he'd been scolding me for, he'd get angry again.
I remained silent. I couldn't answer, because she was right. My father, seeing that this wasn't going anywhere, decided to listen to me. After a brief rebuke, he spoke.
"…At school, they called me in to talk about what you did. Otsuki was there too, with her mother. She said she was asking you something in front of the whole class, and, in the middle of it all, you turned around, wanting to leave the class. She grabbed your arm, and you, screaming, punched her in the face." She says it like it's irrefutable. It's irrefutable, I know it , I know it more than anyone.
"You really don't know the shame I had to go through there…"
I was starting to break down. I wanted to cry, but I was still holding it in. I gritted my teeth and held it in. I made a fist and held it in. But I didn't look ahead.
The distance between us wasn't decreasing. He wasn't getting closer to me. What I was grateful for about all this was that he wasn't coming at me.
"...Did he say what he wanted to ask me?" I managed to speak again, although a lump was already forming in my throat.
"No. His mother didn't say anything either. I don't think she told him, but that's not the point." The more I let him talk, the more he tried to calm down. He was still angry, still furious, and he no longer bothered to hide it with his tone or his face.
"Everyone was in the class, Riku. Understand that whatever you're going to make up now is a lie. I've asked the parents of other classmates of yours, and they say exactly the same thing.
"You don't have the upper hand, and you know it. I want to support you because you're my son, but I can't support something you've done wrong.
"So, I want you to tell me, why did you do it?" Don't defend yourself, you know there's nothing to defend. Say you know, say you know because you know. Say you're sorry, because you're sorry. Apologize, do it.
I can't think clearly.
"…She, t-everyone was bothering me, and-" My father cut me off the moment I paused.
"So what?! Were they bothering you? You could have, I don't know, told everyone to stop, called a teacher. But hitting her?! You could have made her take her hand off you without, like, fucking doing something like that!"
"I really can't believe it. Are you stupid or something?! You've never done this in your entire life, not even now..."
"...I was feeling bad, like you said before, because of what happened..." My father stepped forward almost at once, and, in a much louder, angrier voice than before, practically shouting, he interrupted me.
"Don't even think about using your sister for this! Just because that happened isn't going to excuse you! Don't you understand what you have to do now?! I'm not the one who has to apologize, not to her, but to the whole class! You shouldn't say anything that isn't an apology!"
The moment he stepped forward and shouted, I looked straight ahead. I faced him. I looked into his eyes as he spoke. I was looking into his eyes the moment he mentioned her.
Have I used it…?
Just thinking about her broke me completely, and hearing her voice, her tone, seeing her approaching me… It was killing me.
As he spoke, as he told me what I should have done, I started taking steps back. I was trying to run away again. I only took a few, just a couple, but I tried to run away. Again.
I started to cry, not desperately, but tears ran down my cheeks, falling to the ground one by one.
I heard a noise, a babble. I knew my father was angry, that he was yelling at me. I could feel his anger.
The noise was deafening me. It was all voices, voices that transformed into noise. All with the same message.
"YOU HAVE USED HER" "YOU HAVE ABANDONED HER" "YOU DON'T LEARN" "YOU DESERVE PUNISHMENT" "YOU ARE A MONSTER" "ACCEPT THE CONSEQUENCES ONCE AND FOR ALL"
And in the background, a chorus played. "It's my fault ," it said. Over and over ...
At the point I was in, I couldn't understand anything my father was saying to me. He kept talking, as if he didn't care about my condition. I knew that, but I couldn't understand him. Nothing.
The only thing I understood was the fear he caused me. Every voice, every noise, had his tone of voice.
I couldn't stop crying. I was stressed. I was desperate. I tried to cover my face with my hands.
But, I don't know at what point, my father grabbed me. He grabbed my right hand.
He wanted me to stare at him while he cried. He was still angry. I had those eyes staring at me again, but now, so close.
It was impossible for me to feel more afraid, but I did. It was as if I was choking on my own tears.
I was hyperventilating. Both of my legs were shaking, I couldn't take any more. I was gasping for air. I was breathing as fast as I could, raggedly. The tiniest breath was enough.
The moment dragged on. Soon after, my father let go of me and continued talking to me.
I still couldn't understand what he was saying, but I could also make out another voice: my own. But I couldn't even understand myself. Was he saying something relevant, or was it all just crying? I didn't feel like myself.
I wanted it all to be over, I wanted to agree with him, apologize, just so this would be over. I already knew what had happened, I knew it was wrong.
I just wanted to stop feeling this way, to be able to stop crying like this. To stop seeing that shitty face on his face, like I wasn't his son.
I didn't kill anyone. I know I did wrong. Can't you, for once in your miserable life, give me a good lecture?!
The whole time, I was thinking, focused on my head, trying to relieve the crying that anger was causing me.
But as soon as I thought that, the feeling vanished. There was no more anger, but there was still crying.
My father wasn't talking. I wasn't looking at him. He wasn't even standing. He had collapsed long ago. It was all like a trance.
My body noticed it, anyway. That that authority was gone. That I was free.
I kept crying. I kept shaking. But I got up. I was able to get up. I knew it because the ground seemed farther away.
I couldn't seem to lift my gaze. I couldn't hear that low, weak voice, either, even with such deafening voices in my ears.
I left the room as soon as I could. I never stopped crying and hyperventilating.
Everything seemed so real, I was so aware of everything. I paid attention to every step I took.
There was no voice behind me telling me to come down. There was no one saying this wasn't over.
Since this was over, there was nothing more to talk about. What else could be said?
I've asked for forgiveness. A thousand and one times, I've lost forgiveness. Why can't you hear it? Are you ignoring me? Or am I the one who isn't loud enough?
My chest hurts again. A stabbing pain. Like a needle being stuck in my heart.
Step by step, I climbed. Everything about that brief interaction felt eternal. Why did I have to feel that way at that moment?
I don't want to be conscious of this. I don't want to live through this. I shouldn't have lived through this.
When will I calm down? How will I calm down? I don't know. By myself? What can I do on my own?
I've never been able to do anything like that. If I've changed, even a little, it's because of someone.
I'm only capable of doing what makes me a worse person. You can get worse alone, but you can only get better with others.
It's unfair. I want to stop feeling this way. Am I doomed to feel this way until someone eases it for me?
How can I...
" …"
Sleep. I want to sleep. Tomorrow is another day. I need to rest. Tomorrow, I can see someone; today, I can talk to someone, and then someone can help me…
I opened my bedroom door. I had to open it the second time, because I was shaking so much that I completely missed the doorknob.
I never thought about it until now. My room looked horrible. Not because it was messy, but because of the atmosphere it had.
There was no personality in it. There was no trace of it being mine. It was empty.
I remember having a shelf full of things, things I liked, that gave color to everything.
There were also posters hanging on the walls, which were also missing. What was missing?
And more importantly, where was I? These were questions I should have asked myself before, and I should have given them more thought, but I accepted that this was my room.
I closed the door behind me and lay down on the bed. Even the white ceiling looked darker, as if it had been stained. I didn't want to see it. I brought my hands to my face.
It covered my entire face. I couldn't stop crying. I was still upset, and I was short of breath, although less than before.
Everything kept repeating itself. It was a vicious cycle. I was never going to learn. I was weak. Weak people have no room to improve.
It's my fault I'm so weak. If only I'd lived differently, I wouldn't be such a crybaby.
I can't even be of use to anyone after what I've done. No one?! Not even my father?! To everyone else, I'm a burden. A burden that should fall on me a hundred times over.
Me. Always. I've always been a horrible person. I was driven by selfishness. By whim. I did everything for fun.
I never genuinely cared about anyone. I only cared about them because it would cause me problems if they left.
And now, he's gone. They'll probably all leave, everyone. This goes way beyond having no friends. I've been living like this for years.
Having no one. No one would want to get close to me. Even if they care about me, how do they plan to approach me? What do they plan to say to calm me, understand me, and comfort me?
No. That's impossible. There's no one who can do that anymore. Not in this world. Not now. Not ever.
No one will ever make me feel that way. No one will ever make me laugh like that. I'll never be able to talk to anyone like that. I'll never trust anyone that much.
I trusted. I trusted, and they left me behind. First one, and seeing that, the rest followed.
Or did I push them? Did I do something to make you leave? Tell me, what did I do wrong? I behaved as usual!
I didn't do anything wrong! I was there, just like I always was! I always tried to talk to you nicely! I tried to talk to you every day, even after Mom!
I never let you be alone! Never! I always let you know I was there for you, even when I wasn't in your room, even when I wasn't home…
...
What was I supposed to do? Should I have lived only for your sake? Should I have given up everything just to be with you one more day?
What if I'd hurt you? I can't control myself. Even when I'm not trying to hurt, I end up breaking the most important thing. If I'd stayed with you, I'd just be putting more and more weight on your shoulders, day after day.
You'd get tired, and after you got tired, you'd get fed up, and then you couldn't stand it anymore!
Did I have a choice? Did my life have a bearing on this? Was I part of it?
Was everything set? When did you think about doing it? When did you start questioning it?
How long have I left you alone? Since Mom? Since Grandma? Since always?
Didn't we say we could trust each other? Hadn't you promised me a thousand and one times that you'd come for me when I was in trouble?
Is it because you're the oldest? Is that what you thought? Did you think you were the only one who had to bear all this? Shit!
Are you an idiot?! We didn't even think about that! You were older than me, and I was younger than you!
You and I were brothers. Why didn't you come with me? Why didn't I see him?
Me, why?
No. I…
I…
Over time, I stopped crying.