Mon. 04/09, 06:57
This time, the atmosphere was freezing. Something was chasing him. No, someone was chasing him, and they were armed. All Tora could do was run. Nothing was clear, as if he were trying to see through a fogged-up window. His legs didn't respond as quickly as his brain demanded.
Eventually, his attacker caught up to him, and he felt an object pierce deep into his abdomen.
A searing pain signalled that something was wrong. A warm, crimson liquid slowly seeped from the wound, bringing an unpleasant sensation. He pressed his palm against his stomach in a desperate attempt to ease the pain, but it only intensified. He also tried to move his left hand, but it no longer obeyed him.
When he lowered his gaze, he saw an arm lying lifeless on the ground. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he realized it was his own. The sensation of no longer being able to move a limb that had been his until now made him feel sick. Fear took hold of him, plunging him into an indescribable state of panic.
When he turned around, his attacker had no face, yet he seemed strangely familiar. The smell of cigarettes lingered around him. Looking closer, Tora saw in horror a knife lodged in his right eye, blood cascading from the wound.
There was no doubt, it was Daniel !
After losing an enormous amount of blood, Tora's legs began to buckle, causing him to collapse onto his stomach. He remained there, stuck in that position for a full minute that felt like an eternity. He wanted to convince himself that this was only a dream, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wake up.
A cry of distress escaped his lips, blending fear and pain.
He woke up in the exact same position he had been in during his dream and immediately stopped screaming upon realizing he had finally escaped his nightmare.
In one swift motion, he jumped out of bed, both to avoid falling back into an unwanted sleep at all costs and because the position he had been in was starting to make him feel uncomfortable.
He quickly noticed that he still couldn't move his left arm, which was now trembling with increasingly intense spasms. His breathing became erratic, then quickened, plunging him into a state of hyperventilation. An inexplicable sorrow overtook him, and in the blink of an eye, he found himself crying for no apparent reason. He remained trapped in that state for a good fifteen minutes. Only when he tried to regain control of his breathing, taking deep breaths and slowly exhaling all the air from his chest, did he finally manage to calm himself.
Once he regained his composure, he felt exhausted, with a deep sense of fear lodged firmly in his chest. It had already been three days since these kinds of dreams had started. Daniel seemed to have returned to haunt him, seeking revenge for the fate Tora had dealt him. Each dream was different, but all of them were equally painful.
He hadn't left his room since then, and he was starving. His body felt frail, and his stomach seemed to be pulling itself in from the inside, creating an unpleasant sensation and excruciating pain. It wasn't complicated, really. All he had to do was go down the stairs and drink the water from the sink, or even from the bathroom tap in the worst case. Was he a masochist ? Why was he torturing himself like this ? It made no sense. Tora didn't know the answer himself. He was his own worst enemy. Life had already been unkind to him, and yet he still managed to make things worse.
On all fours, he struggled painfully toward his door, staring at the handle for long minutes.
"I have to eat, or I'll die. I have to deal with it."
He managed, with great difficulty, to reach the kitchen. There, he drank five glasses of water before diving into the food in the fridge, swallowing it without even cooking it. Overcome with nausea, he ran to the bathroom and vomited everything he had just ingested. His stomach seemed to collapse in on itself, the pain was unbearable. He was starving, but his body couldn't handle so much food at once. It was a real puzzle.
Tora burst into tears, pain-filled sobs shaking his body as tears rolled down his cheeks, falling into the toilet bowl, while saliva dripped from his lips.
At that moment, Tora saw Zayn step through the door, rushing to his side.
— Tora, what's happening to you ? Here, drink this slowly. You should feel better in no time.
— Thank you… I knew you would come. No one else cares, but you're different. You see this ghost I've become and you heal the wounds I can't even see anymore. Thank you for everything.
— Are you out of your mind ? That sounds like the speech of a dying man ! Pull yourself together, you idiot. How are we supposed to keep messing around together if you let yourself fall apart like this ?
Tora wished Zayn were there, that he could understand him, that he could support him. But all of that was just in his head. Zayn was human, just like everyone else. He had only met him last Friday. He wouldn't be there. Not today, and maybe never. It was far too unrealistic.
Once he had expelled everything, he hurried to the kitchen, drinking water as slowly as he could. Though his stomach screamed with hunger, he forced himself to resist, pushing through it. He knew he had to take it slow, recover little by little. He had to, if he wanted to go back to school. He wouldn't make any friends by staying here.
Since the age of 9, he had spent most of his time locked in his room, studying under the constant pressure of his family, never taking the time to go out and play with friends. Eventually, they stopped asking him to go out, knowing he wouldn't do it anyway, and he gradually found himself without any friends. Over time, his room had become his only refuge, the place where he felt most at ease. To the point that he had reached a stage where even his own house made him uncomfortable. In Japanese, they would probably call his condition "hikikomori," a term his brother often used to mock him, to the point where it felt like that word had become his new name.
One day, he finally gathered the courage to talk to his parents, hoping to receive their support. But their reaction was far from what he had expected. Instead of helping him, they dismissed the seriousness of the situation and called him lazy. As a result, he found himself left to fend for himself, with a problem that no one seemed to understand.
He got ready and found himself standing in front of the door, but his body froze in fear. His hand remained still, refusing to move. At that moment, various excuses ran through his mind. This wasn't the right time to go out, not in this state. What if there were people staring at him strangely ? Maybe Zayn wouldn't like him anymore when he saw his pale face, or maybe he'd think he was crazy after hearing his story ? Was it a holiday ? Were the trains running today ? And the buses ? Did he have any important classes ? Anyway, it was too cold. Any excuse would do.
He shook his head to push all those thoughts away and turned the handle. But just as he was about to take a step, he stopped. He didn't take it. Instead he quickly closed the door and rushed back to his room. Once there, he curled up in a corner, scratching his head frantically, then yanked at his hair violently. He hit his chest, then finally lay down on the floor, exhausted, and fell asleep.