In society, many horrors await behind the curtains of formality, of normality.
One example would be the reality of having a job. Sexual harassment, workers' exploitation, demoralizing environment are just a few things that go on behind the scenes.
In that same vein, some has decided to go down the path of criminality, to pursue the "finer" pleasures of life, or should I rather say, morbid.
The man I just killed was no exception. He was a high ranking member of the Yakuza, and enjoyed assaulting women, as well as committing multiple other crimes such as fraud, robbery and drug abuse.
Even if a shitty human like him dies, it doesn't matter right? Hahaha...
Yeah, no.
Even after all these years, I can never get used to the sensation of killing. That feeling of your hands going cold, the smell of metal, the sound of bones cracking.
The only thing left after the act, is a cold, lifeless body near your feet.
It's sickening. I could only pretend to hold in my disgust on the way back.
The moment I reached the door of my apartment, I rushed to the bathroom and vomitted everything in my stomach. I was crouching on the floor, leaning on the toilet.
My head feels fuzzy, my heart seemingly going haywire and my breathing becomes unstable, even to the point of hyperventilating.
A shower will probably clear up my head, but I get trapped with my thoughts too often...Best to just change and go to bed.
I took off my shirt and threw it in a bag. It was a black, plain T-shirt. You could find these anywhere, so I always wore these dispensable shirts for cases that required blood on my hands.
I'll throw it away in the morning... I just want to rest.
I moved from my bathroom to my living room. I don't have a bed, as most of the time I sleep on the floor, but it was winter, and sleeping without cushions wouldn't do good for my health, so I sleep on the sofa.
I turned on my TV and quickly skimmed through the news. It's best if the body remains hidden for a week, but somebody is bound to notice the irregularity, either from his disappearance or the leftover marks from the fight. Either way, I have an alibi to eliminate myself from the suspects list.
Kuromori Hotoke is supposedly staying over at his friends' house tonight, so the police won't have anything to link me to the murder.
After confirming that the cops hadn't caught wind of the murder, I switched to my deep ambient playlist and closed my eyelids.
Darkness came, closely followed was drowsiness. It didn't take long for me to enter the abyss.
My sensory deprivation soon got replaced by the sound of buzzing lights and broken radio. I was in a dream. I have a tendency to lucid dream after "that incident". I opened my eyes to a small apartment. Messy bed, empty wardrobe, dirty dishes. This was my apartment back in high school. My parents had long died, and I was living with my uncle. Well, until I got myself a part-time job and decided to move out.
I explored around in my old apartment, cleaning up the mess that old me left behind. I even found some old adult magazines that I bought for a dare and never saw why people made a big deal out of them. After tidying up the bedroom, I moved to the bathroom.
The moment I opened the door, a putrid, sickening smell attacked my nostrils.
Akin to that of a rotting corpse. In the tub was black plastic bag, seemingly placed in view for everyone to see.
I opened the bag and let the horrifying scenery unveil itself. A badly mutilated corpse, severed arms and legs,...
And a decapitated head of a young, good-looking man staring right at me. Suddenly, his mouth whispered words to me:
"Why did you kill me? Why didn't you kill her? She was the problem wasn't she?"
Suddenly, the scenery around me warped, the floor I was standing on suddenly vanished. And once again, I was casted into the deep dark.
It didn't take long until I began to feel my body again. Looking down, my torso and limbs looked ethereal, like a ghost. I was on a street at midnight. The city looked slightly familiar, but I couldn't recall what was the name.
Out of the blue, I heard the sound of a car approaching. Turning around, I saw the headlights of a Benz, it kept moving, even crashing into me, but I don't have a physical body to feel anything. Instead, the car parked next to an abandoned park.
I got closer, and noticed that there were 2 people in the car. One of them was a black-haired teen. His features resembled mine a bit. Decent looks with a hint of feminitity, that same fashion style of just plain black clothes. The only difference is that he doesn't have bangs, whilst I had one hanging on my right, as well as his hair being noticeably messier.
A more striking feature is that his eyes are bloodshot, like he had stayed awake for 12 days straight. On the passenger seat was a girl, probably around the same age as the boy. What's more noteworthy is the color of her hair and skin. Pale white. Albino? I felt some kind of emotion inside me that I can't put into words when I tried to peek at her face. For some reason, she is always obstructed by the boy talking to her, as if trying to hide her from me.
They looked as if they were arguing, with the girl seemingly in distressed, and the boy having an expressionless face. He shoved two bags into the girl's arms and pushed her out of the car. There were signs of resistance from the girl, but the boy was able to drive into the night, far away from the girl's reach. She collapsed on the road, trying to reach the car, but ultimately failed due to her frail physique.
The lonely night was filled with the silent weeping of a girl.
As I tried to get closer to get a closer look at her face, my head seemingly blurred it out, forcefully shutting down my vision. Despite not having a physical body, I felt as if my entire being was suddenly pumped with lead, halting my movement completely.
It didn't take long for me to blackout, like a virus triggering a shutdown of a system.
I waited in the darkness for a few minutes, until I felt some lights shining on my eyelids. Upon regaining my sight, the most evident change was that I had a physical body again.
...but I didn't feel in control of it. Like a puppet on strings, I am forced to observe my host body move on its own. I was sitting on the balcony railings of an abandoned office building. Beside me were some empty cans of beer, as well as a pack of cigarettes. By the loosening grip on the railings, I could tell this body was contemplating suicide. Amidst my chaotic stream of thoughts, the sound of police sirens reverberates around the building. Accompanying the blaring horns is the sound of stomping, most likely by a whole squad of policemen, quickly rushing in the premise to secure an arrest: Me.
I finished the remaining can of beer in my hand. The slight bitterness and austerity of the liquid streaming down my throat seemingly cleared my head a little bit. I take a moment to take in my surroundings. The booze and cigarettes earlier helped clear my head somewhat. The interior of the building is most likely already swarmed with Special Forces ready to gun me down the moment I move one step out of place.
That means the only way out is to jump off the balcony. It was a 10m fall, but there are ledges on the walls so if I can utilize them, I might have a chance of escaping.
...or I could just jump off the balcony.
The fall wouldn't be enough to cripple me completely, and if I do a roll, the impact of the fall would be distributed evenly throughout my body, keeping my ability to move.
...but is it really worth it?
From what I understand the cops already know how I look like, and they are playing it safe by bringing in the Special Forces. Even if I can escape, where is there to escape to?
I wouldn't be able to get a job without credentials, and my movement will be limited because I can't use public transportation.
And it seems like this body doesn't want to continue either. A fall like this wouldn't kill me, but at the right angle my neck can snap, killing me instantly.
...
...
...
But it feels like it wouln't change a single thing.
...what drived me to this corner in the first place anyway? Trying to make sense of what happened just hurts my head even more.
"This is Division II, ready to apprehend the subject." I heard a cold, ruthless voice behind the door. Seems like my time is up.
At that moment, I remembered thinking to myself: "It's time I put an end to this tragedy."
...and opened the door.
The scenery gradually fades away after my apparition got out of the boy's body. The only scene that was clear enough to see was the boy being detained and escorted to the armoured van.
When it became pitch black again, I expected another vision to follow, but only silence prevailed. I walked straight ahead and saw a familiar sight.
A monotonous room, the walls seemingly one with the black void surrounding them, yet feels like they're warping around space itself. A desk, with a laptop and notebook.
A door, which was always locked.
A bookshelf, filled with incomprehensible books, scribbled notes and cryptic drawings.
A bed, painted white, eerily contrasting the environment, as if it was my only same place in this unknown.
But more noticeably, on top of the bed, was a boy.
"What do you think about that little show?"
With a devilish, slightly mocking and shit-eating grin, that "person" sits defiantly, clearly entertained by my reaction.
I took a step inside the room, and replied:
"Let's get this gig over with, Hotoke."
The person who had always haunted my dreams: Hotoke.