The last thing I remembered was Kazuo.
He was running toward me, shouting something I couldn't make out, waving his arms. And then… nothing.
I sank into something dark, thick, and revolting. I wouldn't even call it sleep. It was closer to hell. There wasn't any other word for the place I'd fallen into.
Fragments kept flashing around me. Pieces of everything that had happened, everything that could've happened, everything I feared. It was a tangled mess made out of pure nightmare.
Ed's face showed up the most.
He was leaning against something, smoking, letting out clouds of smoke that burned my eyes and lungs. His expression stayed calm, as if everything was exactly the way it was supposed to be, as if my suffering tired him more than it bothered him.
One moment, I saw him clearly. The next, he dissolved into the smoke he'd exhaled, and everything around me burst into flames.
Pain spread through my chest until breathing became impossible. I choked and tried to scream, but no sound came out. My heart clenched so hard I thought another second would tear it apart into thousands of pieces.
Then, somewhere, glass shattered.
Shards flew toward me.
Screams.
The smell of burned fur.
Heat.
Fire.
Pain.
Again and again.
And always his indifferent face. The face of the man I'd trusted not long ago. The face of the man who was supposed to help me, who I'd believed would be on my side.
But he'd just driven away.
Vanished into that cursed smoke.
Sometimes it seemed I was about to break free from it, about to surface. But something was dragging me back down, pulling me deeper, as if trying to drown me at the bottom of the hell my own mind had created.
When I finally came to, I was staring at the ceiling.
I didn't recognize it. I knew I wasn't home, but my brain didn't try to figure out where I was either. It just… stalled.
I lay there suspended, unable to move, unable to think, unable even to care how much time had passed.
Minutes?
Hours?
Maybe longer?
I didn't know.
Then something creaked.
At first, I didn't react. Then I registered movement. Someone with slow, heavy footsteps was crossing the room. Someone was there, but I didn't turn my head. I didn't even try.
It wasn't that I lacked the strength. Not really. It was the absence of desire.
The desire to move.
To think.
To live.
I felt hollow, like whatever was supposed to respond to the world had shut down.
Then a familiar voice broke through the fog.
"Hey. Hello. How long are you planning to lie there?" Kazuo's voice sounded oddly cheerful. "You know you've been asleep for three days, right? That's enough. We've got things to do. Come on. Let's start with coffee."
Three days?
His words echoed somewhere far away. That didn't make sense. I just woke up. I just—
I swallowed.
"So long?" I whispered.
"Yeah," Kazuo said, and something in his tone shifted. "It's been three days. Listen, kid, I'm gonna start worrying for real if you don't get up today. Come on. I'm almost done anyway."
"Done…?" I muttered.
"Lunch," he added. "We're late."
Lunch…
I'd been sure it was morning.
Kazuo gave a soft clap and walked off toward the kitchen.
I forced myself to move.
It took an unreasonable amount of effort to sit up. When I finally sat on the edge of the bed, the room tilted slightly, then settled.
Only then did I realize I was in Kazuo's bed.
Looking around slowly, I saw a small couch standing against the far wall. It was piled with rumpled blankets and pillows. It didn't take much to figure it out. He'd given me the bed. A heavy guilt settled in my chest.
I pushed myself up, slowly making my way toward the kitchen. One shaky step at a time.
Kazuo rushed from one side of the kitchen to the other, then to one cabinet, then another. Dishes clattered as he moved them around. Something boiled, something hissed. There was far too much energy in the room.
I sat down at the table and watched him fuss around.
Where did he even get all that momentum?
I glanced around the kitchen. It was a total mess. Kazuo was usually meticulous. The days I'd slept through must've been difficult for him, so cleaning clearly hadn't been a priority.
My thoughts drifted. I didn't even notice how long I'd been sitting there until a bowl appeared in front of me.
Soup, I thought. A spoon was pressed into my hand.
"Eat," Kazuo said.
"I don't really want to," I replied honestly, setting the spoon back on the table.
"You haven't eaten in three days." His voice softened, but not enough to let me off the hook. "I get that things are rough right now, but you still have to eat."
I picked the spoon back up and dipped it into the soup.