I don't know exactly how much time passed, from the moment I was crumpled to the ground, to the moment I finally heard people coming and going in front of me in the small apartment.
I had heard the police arrive, then handcuff the real stalker before leading him outside. I thought I recognized the man's voice, but I couldn't see his face very well in the darkness, so I couldn't be sure.
I had also heard the detective quickly explain that the homeowner had tasked us with finding her stalker, and that the suspect had eventually attacked us.
Then, once the questions were over, several people had then entered, starting with the young man I had caught earlier.
"Are you okay, sir?" He asked, visibly distraught by my condition.
I didn't answer anything, still with my head buried in my arms.
"What's that?" Asked then the detective to the young man.
"Ah... He... Well, he forgot them in the street over there..." Answered hastily the high school student.
He was probably talking about my shoes. I must have looked really crazy to the neighbors; banging on the door of the apartment while wearing socks.
There was a moment of silence - perhaps while he handed her my shoes - before the detective spoke again.
"You're Sagawa-kun, right?" She asked.
It seemed from the tone of her voice that she already knew the answer to this question. I didn't hear an answer - at least, a verbal one - from the young man. But I was willing to bet that he recognized the person in question.
"We'll need to have a small talk; all of us together," the detective said.
I heard clothes rustling, then the sound of a pen scratching paper; and I pictured in my mind that she was giving him one of her business cards.
"Meet us at this place tomorrow," she said curtly.
It seemed that the high school student didn't have much of a choice, as to whether or not to come. The detective had already made the decision for him.
"Go home now, before your parents get worried," the detective added.
I heard more rapid movement, then the sound of footsteps moving away on the wooden floor.
"Excuse us! Make way!" Exclaimed a male voice that I did not recognize.
There were several footsteps - two, maybe three people - letting me know that people were entering the apartment in small groups.
"We were told that there were injured people," said one of the newcomers.
"Yes, Nijima-kun here," replied the detective. "But he's only injured in the arm and hand."
A man then crouched in front of me, and I heard him looking for something in his bag.
The paramedics must have been called at the same time as the police, or just after, to have arrived at the scene so quickly.
"Sir? I need to see your hand," he asked.
I complied, and still with my head buried between my knees and my left arm, slowly held out my right hand.
I felt his hands running over mine, but also something soft and smooth soaked in liquid starting to run over the palm of my hand.
"You're going to need stitches..." He observed.
That meant they would probably take me to the hospital. But I knew for a fact that there was still blood on my arms and hands.
I really felt like I couldn't move.
"The sight of blood triggers him into having severe panic attacks," the detective said calmly.
"Oh, I see. That could indeed be a problem..." Said the paramedic.
The sudden intervention had surprised me, especially since she had understood what was wrong with me.
I felt my stomach contract and my chest tighten.
What was she going to think of me after finding out?
Would she feel sorry for me? Think I was useless? Or weird?
Maybe I was starting to panic again, because soon the detective spoke again.
"Wait a moment," she said and walked away.
I heard her go to the entrance of the apartment, and rummage around in what seemed to be folds of fabric. Then the noises stopped. She had surely found what she was looking for, and I heard her come back to us.
"Nijima-kun?" She asked with the same calm tone as before. "Can you close your eyes for a moment and look up?"
Why was she asking me to do this? Did she have something on her mind?
"Nijima-kun?" She repeated, seeing me still motionless.
I wasn't sure what exactly she wanted to do. But I didn't really have any other option at the moment.
So I closed my eyes - or rather, my eye that wasn't hidden behind a pad - and slowly raised my head apprehensively.
I then felt cold fingers graze the lobes of my ears, before the sensation quickly evaporated; giving way to a slight weight on my nose and ears.
"Open your eyes, Nijima-kun," she said.
No. If I opened my eyes, I would see that color again. That was out of the question.
"Nijima-kun, you can trust me, so open your eyes..." Insisted the detective.
But I really had an unpleasant feeling that if I opened my eye, I would see the blood on my arms again. And I wanted to avoid that at all costs.
I was about to lower my head again, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. And just then, the detective whispered something in my ear.
Her words surprised me, but I accepted them without flinching.
It was totally crazy, and I wasn't sure what she meant by that. Well... Maybe I was. Maybe I knew exactly what she meant by that.
And strangely enough, those foolish words made me trust her enough to open my eyes.
I was astonished to discover everything around me - people, and objects - colored by a brown cameo. There were no more bright colors, and even the light from the ceiling lamp was greatly muted. And this color scheme was not unknown to me.
I had my own sunglasses on, whose tinted lenses had changed the color of everything I saw.
Venturing to look down, I saw that the blood was now just dark brown spots on my arms. It made me shiver a little, but thankfully it didn't affect me any further.
"Can we go?" Asked one of the paramedics.
I could finally see everything around me. There were three paramedics surrounding me, in addition to the detective. But I also noticed that she wasn't wearing the same clothes as before, which made me frown. She had probably taken advantage of the locked door to remove the knife that was stabbing her, and swapped her shirt for a white t-shirt.
But even doing that, there should have been blood. She should have bled, after a blow like that to the chest.
I was dragged towards the exit of the apartment where a crowd of curious neighbors still stood, and I had to face the facts; thinking back to what she had just whispered in my ear.
"To make you trust me, Nijima-kun, I'll tell you a secret..." She whispered.
It was grotesque, really.
But still, it was the only explanation that made sense.
And as I gave the detective one last look behind me before I finally lost sight of her, her words echoed in my mind.
"I can't die."