When you think about it, my father is quite the amazing individual. He could kill a person, which he lived with for 12 years, and then drink beer next to the corpse.
The amount of denial necessary to do that is astonishing.
“Hey, father.”
“...”
He ignored me. I can't blame him. I mean, we drifted apart ever since he beat mother in my presence for the first time, 4 years ago.
I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. This was a long time coming, after all. Shame he did it so soon, though.
Is he even alive? His eyes look somewhat dilated. He looks in pretty bad shape. Well, I guess that killing your wife would do that to you.
...
...
I know it’s risky, but I’m a little too amused to pass this opportunity up, so I’ll test with him a bit.
“Had a rough night?”
“...”
"How was work?"
“...”
“Did you eat breakfast yet?”
“Mmmhh...”
Ah, a reaction. Mother always made our meals. I guess he’s awake enough to make that connection. Shall we prod a little deeper?
“What did you eat for breakfast?”
“...”
No reaction this time, huh?
Is he still in shock, I wonder? Or just wasted? Both?
Probably both.
Let’s count the beer cans, maybe the answer exists somewhere drowned in that pool of blood. How many litres of blood does the human body contain again?
Quite impressive, actually. If I didn't know any better, I would say that we're in Japan in a middle of a flood. The entire living room is covered in the stuff.
...
There is quite the number of beer cans laying around; thirty, perhaps? Looks like he’s been like that for a while. Since last night, maybe? The TV's on. It's showing white noise, though, but it's on.
Hm? Is that his phone in that pool over there?
I see.
I put a towel between the pool of blood and the door and took a paper bag from the kitchen. I took off my bunny themed house shoes and entered the pool of blood, keeping the illusion of normalcy. My father loved to buy me animal themed clothes. I wonder if he was compensating for something.
I picked up a can. I put the can in the bag.
Took a step.
Picked another can. I put the can in the same bag in which I put in the first can.
Took another step.
Picked another can a little further away. I put that can in my bag of bloody cans.
I kept doing that, until I reached the area with the phone, and then picked that up along with a can, so it would create that hollow sound, and keep the consistency of the illusion.
My father’s foot is bruised. I can tell his foot is bruised because I’m quite close to his foot and because father is only wearing boxers. My mother’s injury is on the head, though. How did he bruise his foot, I wonder?
I filled the bag with cans until it was full.
I got out of the pool of blood and wiped my feet. I made sure that my feet are clean of any blood that got on them.
...
*scrub scrub*
...
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
There, good as new. Shall I put on some perfume?
I put on socks and shoes to hide what I missed, put some of mother's perfume, and paused.
...
I left my parent's bedroom and went to my room.
I looked under the bed. Under the bed was a white box with black strings. I took the box, left the apartment, locked the door and left for the river.
It’s morning.
“Haaa...”
I sighed.
What a troublesome father. Couldn’t he wait until I left for university? Did he have to be so hasty?
I wonder if something happened at work for him to lose his temper that much.
“Haaaa...”
I sighed again.
This throws off my plans for early retirement.
I’m going to be forced into an orphanage. What a pain.
...
I wonder if this phone works.
I checked the phone while wiping off the blood.
“Huh..”
What a marvel, it survived that catastrophe. As expected of a Nokia phone. Truly a phone among phones.
I reached the river, cleaned the cans and threw them in the nearest recycling bin.
I called the police.
They’ll be there in a couple of minutes.
I wonder if father realized I’m not going to return from the garbage bin.
Not that it matters. I locked the door on the way out and took the keys from his jeans that he left lying near the door. He most likely threw them off straight after he got from work last night.
What a troublesome father.
...
I untied the black strings, lifted the white cover and looked inside the box.
...
It's a pendant.
Of a bunny.
A black and white bunny is hanging on a silver chain.
...I put it on.
I looked at the river,
"Haaaa....."
and sighed.
This is going to be a habit, isn't it?
Damn.
I think it will.
?
“Hmm..”
I looked at the two books that are in front of me. I want to take them both, but I can only choose one.
Ahhhh…. Choices, choices.
I ended up picking ‘Japan’s Imperial Army: 1853-1945 by Edward J. Drea’.
If someone asked me why I took that book and not the other, I could only answer that it was because it had a harder cover, so it would be easier to carry around.
Maybe I’m just distracting myself from my life. Maybe I just love reading books, with no particular interest in any topic. Maybe I love reading about all of the topics. I don't know.
I always used to hide in the library during the times' father was home, all those years ago. Is it because of that, I wonder?
I left the library and started walking towards the orphanage.
“Haaaa…..”
Night time, is it? Explains why it's cold.
Quite a few cars on the street. Where are they all going, I wonder?
…
Hmm?
Cars that once blurred past are now crawling like turtles.
People turned statues mid-step.
Leaves that have fallen from trees are hovering mid-air.
That dog over there lifting his leg and releasing an arc of frozen fluid. I can actually see individual drops of the stuff. Astonishing.
It appears that my perception of time has slowed.
It always happens when my subconscious decides that I’m in danger.
...
Where is it?
…
3 People, front. One walking the dog, away from me. Two lovers holding hands past, looking at each other. No danger detected. Left, empty parking lot, impossible to hide. Right, pavement blocked by parking cars, 1 person, facing this end of the street, looking ahead, centre.If people are hiding behind, then he would look at them, so no one is hiding behind the cars. No danger. Under street light 30m behind me, no shadows. No danger.
…
Where?
…
Where?
...
Where?
...
Ah.
The dog.
There’s a dog on the road.
The incoming car is going to avoid that dog, and since there’s no way it can stop from that speed that fast, and the other side is blocked, the driver is going to move this way by reflex.
…
Do I have time?
…
Distance, roughly 100m, velocity, roughly 80 km/h. ETA, 4.5 seconds.
Speeding? Night. No hospitals this way. Drunk driver likely. Reduced reflexes. A possibility to miss the dog and drive straight.
Will he hit the dog because he’s drunk or will he avoid the dog and hit me because he’s drunk?
I don’t know.
Well, I don’t want to die because I ran into a car since that would be an idiotic death; So I’ll move left and hope he isn’t going to break his driving wheel from panic.
It’s going to be a gamble.
Will I win or lose, I wonder?
...
Time perception reset.
Everything moves normally again.
The car is moving forward, the dog runs to the other side to the right, and I moved to the left.
Ah.
He broke left hard.
I lost.
.......
......
.....
....
...
..
.
Where am I?